From USA Today Bestselling author Liv Morris comes a sexy standalone romcom where cocky chases sassy around the bases.
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Meet Brady Luck…
Slugger. Hot shot. MVP.
I’ve been called it all.
I was the real deal, baby.
The diamond was my battlefield.
Women were the victory celebration.
My “Lucky” streak was a given.
On and off the field.
Then I slept with the wrong woman,
And she cursed me.
Turned my game upside-down,
In the ballpark…and bedroom.
Now my team is paying the price.
My last hope is Cali Jones,
A smart and sexy physician assistant.
Her Midas touch may fix my swing,
Repair my equipment.
But will it be enough to cure my hard luck?
“Come on, Cali, baby.” Oh great, here comes the sweet talk. “Just a quickie. No one will notice.”
He places a finger under my chin and I look up at him. Blue eyes twinkling, blond hair a sexy mess, a deadly smirk on a killer jawline—yeah, I’m shit at saying no to that.
“Okay,” I agree, but hold up three fingers. “You have three minutes.”
“Two,” he starts to undo his belt and the bulge at his crotch tells me two minutes might be enough. “Take off your panties, but leave everything else on.”
“I can’t believe we are doing this. Fucking in the Lincoln Bedroom is probably against the law or something.” I pull down my panties and Brady stuffs them in his pocket.
“I’ll give them back later. Now, get on the bed,” he says while whipping out his nine inches, and I grin knowing they are all mine.
“What do you want?” I breathe.
“I want you in my bed,” Brady murmurs back, as his fingers trail along my cheek, then he pulls the covers off me with a snap of his wrist.
“Brady, what are you doing?” I bring one hand up to my chest.
“Taking you to my bed,” he growls while lifting me up and throwing me over his shoulder Viking-style. “I hope you’re ready to be fucked senseless,” he says as we walk out of my bedroom and down the hallway toward his suite.
“Yes,” I say while exhaling. He’s taken my breath away and I can hardly speak.
“Good,” he responds on a growl, “because I plan on keeping you up all night.”
I close my eyes at the thought of opening myself up to him—all those glorious nine inches. I can’t wait.
I toss my bag onto the back floorboard and climb in after it. The second I’m in the car, an arm grabs me and pulls me to the backseat.
“What the fuck?” I gasp, and look up to see Brady holding on to me.
“Hey, baby,” he says, pulling me into his lap, which I end up straddling. And as usual, he’s as hard as a rock.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” I kiss the smile off his face knowing this was his idea to get me alone before the game.
“I wanted a quickie on the way to the studio. The limo is closed off and Stuart is none the wiser.”
“Problem is, Stuart is too wise. He’ll know you’re fucking me.” I continue to kiss his jawline and begin to take off his belt buckle. “We better hurry.”
“Fuck yeah,” he whistles as he pulls my dress down to reveal a shear lace strapless bra. He pulls my breasts out of each cup and sucks a nipple into his eager mouth.
“Turn up the radio. You know how I love to scream.” I think Brady’s nine inches has flipped my nympho switch. I’ve never come on dick alone until him.
I ease off Brady’s lap and take his cock into my mouth. We only have a few minutes before we arrive at the studio and I can’t disappoint my favorite appendage.
USA Today bestselling author, Liv Morris, was raised in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri. She now resides on the rock known as St. Croix, USVI with her first and hopefully last husband. After relocating twelve times during his corporate career, she qualifies as a professional mover. Learning to bloom where she’s planted, Liv brings her moving and life experience to her writing.