Benny Reed came back to Waypoint to rebuild a baseball team, not to fall for Quinn Logan, the hometown girl turned global pop sensation who once wrote songs about him. Keeping their distance should be easy, but unresolved history, explosive chemistry, and nonstop attention from everyone make it nearly impossible. Readers who love missed connections and return-to-hometown romances will fall head over heels for Lineups and Lyrics by Tina Gallagher, a steamy, small-town sports romance.
Benny Reed has a plan. Quinn Logan isn’t part of it.
Managing an MLB team means building something from the ground up, and that challenge is exactly what drew him back to Waypoint. He knows the game. He knows the job. And he knows one rule that’s always served him well: baseball and his personal life don’t mix.
Then he meets Quinn Logan.
She’s Waypoint born and raised.
She’s also a retired pop star with a name the world recognizes.
He doesn’t remember the quiet girl from high school.
She remembers him—and the crush that inspired her first songs.
Getting close is risky.
The town is watching.
The media won’t stay quiet.
And some connections don’t care about timing.
Lineups & Lyrics is a steamy small-town sports romance about missed connections and unexpected love.
Excerpt
Copyright 2026, Tina Gallagher
Benny and I stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut. The car moved maybe two feet before a dull clang sounded and the motion stopped dead. A single, half-hearted ding followed—less “arriving at your floor” and more “I tried my best.”
I stared at the panel like it might offer an explanation.
Benny pressed one button, then another.
The lights flickered, then dimmed into a steady glow.
He hit the red emergency call button. A few seconds later, the speaker crackled to life.
“Building security,” a tinny voice said. “Are you stuck in an elevator?”
“Sure looks that way,” Benny said.
“All right. Maintenance will be there within the hour.”
The speaker clicked off, leaving only the hum of the fan.
Benny looked at me and exhaled a slow breath through his nose. “Guess we’re not going anywhere for a bit.”
“Guess not.”
“Might as well get comfortable,” he said.
He pushed off the wall and sank to the floor, one leg stretched out, forearm resting on his bent knee.
I hesitated for a second, then slid down the opposite wall. The space between us felt smaller sitting like this, our legs only a couple of feet apart.
“I like Dane and Marin,” I said.
“Yeah, I think they’ll work out well.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m glad Dane recommended her. She’s not someone I would’ve normally looked at.”
“Because she’s a woman?” I asked, feigning a gasp.
“Partly,” he admitted, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “But mostly because her résumé isn’t what I’d usually go for. Most of her experience is in travel ball and D3 college—not exactly the traditional path to the majors.”
“Then why’d you hire her?”
“Because I trust Dane. And after talking to her, I believe him when he says she’s the best.”
“She comes across calm and collected,” I said. “Like nothing shakes her.”
“That was true until you walked in.”
“She was sweet.”
Silence stretched for a beat before he spoke again.
“I take it that happens a lot.”
“More than I ever knew how to handle,” I admitted. “And it still feels strange. Underneath all of it, I’m just me.”
“You ever miss it? The stage, the spotlight?”
“Sometimes,” I said honestly. “I loved my fans and performing for them. I loved the feeling of a song connecting with a stadium full of people. The way a show can feel like everyone’s heartbeat syncing.” I scratched lightly at my wrist, searching for the right words. “But the noise, the scrutiny, the feeling that every breath had to be on display wore me down, and I needed a break.”
“Everyone thinks they want the spotlight until they realize how hot it gets.” His eyes met mine. “Still…walking away takes guts.”
“Or weak knees.” His brow lifted, amused. “I’m serious,” I said, smiling despite myself. “Those final tour workouts nearly killed me. Dancing in heels under stage lights at forty? That’s an Olympic sport.”
He laughed quietly, the sound low and easy. For a moment, it felt lighter between us, like the conversation had traded its weight for something simpler.
“You know, sitting here, it’s hard to picture you as the same person who used to be on all those magazine covers.”
“That girl had a whole team behind her,” I said with a small laugh. “The lighting, the styling, the editing—none of it ever felt like me. I just look more like myself now.”
“Looks good on you,” he said. “The real version.”
The words landed softly but lingered. His gaze held, not sharp, just…intent. Curious. Like he was trying to see all the parts of me I kept tucked away.
“Thanks,” I managed, though my voice came out thinner than I meant it to.
“You make it easy to forget you used to fill stadiums,” he said.
“Good. I just want to be plain old Quinn.”
His mouth curved, slow and sure.
“There’s nothing plain about you, Quinn.”
My heart did an unhelpful fluttery thing, and I tried to steady my breath. He didn’t look away, and I didn’t want him to.
“Benny—” I started, but whatever I meant to say vanished the second his knee brushed mine. Funny how something so insignificant could change the temperature of a room. Or, in this case, an elevator.
He leaned in, close enough that I could catch the warmth of his skin and the faint, clean scent of his cologne. His gaze flicked to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and for a beat the world felt balanced on that breath between maybe and almost.
“Quinn,” he said, my name coming out rough, like gravel and hesitation all at once.
The sound of it was enough to undo me a little. I shifted forward just a fraction, and for a heartbeat, the world went perfectly still. Then the elevator jolted hard. A metallic thunk echoed through the car as the lights flickered back to full brightness.
The jolt sent me off balance, and I caught myself against the wall. Benny blinked, then let out a short laugh.
“Perfect timing,” he said.
“Yeah.” My voice came out breathier than I wanted. “Impeccable.”
Wait until I tell Erin the elevator cockblocked me out of kissing Benny Reed.
About Tina Gallagher
Tina Gallagher grew up and continues to live in Northeast Pennsylvania. As a tween, she and her best friend would create happily ever afters for their favorite soap opera couples. Eventually, the soap operas lost their appeal, but the writing never did. Before living her dream as a full-time author, she worked a spectrum of jobs ranging from baking and cake decorating to marketing and project management. In between creating memorable characters, traveling, and taking pole dance lessons, Tina enjoys spending time with her two grown children and Golden Irish named Thea.
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