A New League Volume 1 (Print)

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Blurb

 

Sliding into Home  

Can an injured ex ball player convince the woman he wakes up married to in Las Vegas to take a second chance on him? After spending the last four months drowning his sorrows over the end of his baseball career?

Jack Bishop finds himself winging through the blue skies to Las Vegas, not so ready to spend the weekend with some woman his best friend set him up with. He expects a paid escort. What he gets is the woman he walked away from ten years ago to pursue his passion, and she’s not very happy to see him.

Devyn Tate believes she’s quite capable of finding somebody to take her out to dinner. She’s no longer looking for a lifelong promise. She has a commitment only to her battery-operated toy to fulfill that particular need. Yet her friends have managed to talk her into spending the weekend in Las Vegas, on a blind date of all things. They promise the guy is trustworthy. They insist that she should have fun. Unfortunately, fun is not what she envisions when she discovers Jack Bishop lying on the floor of her suite in nothing but his underwear that’s on backward, and she has a wedding ring on her finger.

 

 

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The Final Quarter

A quarterback facing the end of his career must come to peace with his past, and accept his present, before he can move on with his future.

Mitch Ryland accomplished what his father said he never would—he made something of himself. When his wife suggests she’d like to start a family, Mitch is thrown for a loop. He’s never told her about his life before he ended up with his foster parents, or his plans never to become a father. So when he’s taken out of the game, his failings from the past come back to haunt him, and Mitch blames his injury on his loss of focus. He’s unprepared for his career as a professional quarterback to be over. Nor is he ready to tell his wife about why football is so important to him. He’d rather put emotional and physical distance between them and focus on getting back in the game.

Serena Ryland has dreamed of becoming a mother. But when she mentions the idea to her husband, he freezes her out and she has no idea why. She’s worried that if they don’t start talking soon, she’ll lose him forever. When he refuses to come home to mend from an injury, she takes matters into her own hands, determined to spend more time with him, hoping to reignite the romance in their relationship. But she’s unprepared for the things she learns on this trip. Her husband has been carrying a few secrets that just might change the outlook of their future.

 

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Excerpts

 

Sliding into Home

 

She felt no pain. Not the physical kind anyway. Here she sat, in an exquisite hotel suite, in Las Vegas, with… Jack. The boy who had left her. But he didn’t resemble a boy anymore. Oh, no. He looked like a man who could do all sorts of naughty things to make her feel wonderful. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make the naughty suggestions disappear, so she’d given up about two glasses of wine ago, after he’d announced his intentions.

She pictured herself swinging on a pendulum. She swayed to one side and was reminded of the day he’d left. Wasn’t she worth sticking around for, or at least coming home for? Then she swung the other way and focused on the opportunity in front of her. He’s so fucking sexy. And he’s available. And what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Right? It’s not like it’s forever.

She was getting dizzy. She must be going insane if she was even considering it.

Her nipples stood on alert. Her pussy pulsed. Must be the wine. Her friends had brought her to Las Vegas to have sex. But sex with Jack? A mistake? Oh, yeah. She squirmed on the couch, and with as much nonchalance as possible rubbed her arm over her nipples. She suppressed a groan. Okay, maybe a little bit of pain. The kind only a good hard round of sex could relieve.

Devyn glanced up from where she’d settled into the overstuffed couch after they’d moved back into the suite. She watched Jack, but didn’t really see him as he moved about the room. Instead, she pictured him bending her over the arm of the sofa, while the kaleidoscope of colors from the Strip played across the darkened room. In her daydream, he slipped inside her, his cock rigid, thick, hot—stretching her wide, to the pleasurable edge of painful. He paused to place tender kisses down her spine, before pulling back and plunging hard and fast back into her body—relentless in his endeavor to hear her scream his name.

In her mind, she begged him, repeatedly, to make her come.

“Dev, did you say something?”

Startled, she blinked and looked up at his question. “Ah, no.”

 

 

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The Final Quarter

 

Mitch sighed and shifted in his chair. The knee he could handle. Bruised and sore, he’d limp for a few days, but it was his shoulder he worried about most. This was the third time he’d dislocated it. The first official time the team doctor knew about. His fingers itched to massage the joint, but he didn’t dare. No way in hell would he show any sign of weakness. The one thing his father and grandfather had drilled into him from a young age. A lesson he’d learned well.

“It’s more than just a simple sprain or a bad bruise, Mitch, and you know it. This is potentially career ending, especially if you don’t do as I’ve instructed. You need to rest it. Whatever you’ve been doing to keep this from us isn’t helping. Today’s proof of that. And it’s not going to get better until you do something about it. And you can’t do something about it until you’re not on the field every day.”

Noah took a deep breath, his expression full of compassion. “Apply ice to reduce the swelling three times a day for fifteen to twenty minutes. That shoulder needs to be kept stable. We need the swelling to go down so we can take a good look at it. I want you to wear an arm sling for the next three weeks.

“I’ve scheduled an appointment for you three days from now then we’ll have a better idea what we’re dealing with. You’ll probably need to go through some therapy regardless of whether you end up heading down the surgery path or not. With some rest, maybe some therapy, and a light training regiment, we’ll see if there’s been any change.”

Panic swept through Mitch. He clenched his hands into fists on his thighs. “And if it doesn’t get better?”

“We’ll discuss that when the time comes.”

Mitch, well aware of the consequences, filled in the blanks. Surgery. Rehab. Months off the field. If he ended this season on the injury reserve list for next season, he’d miss training camp and wouldn’t be allowed to practice or play until the doctor cleared him. And if he did practice and aggravated the injury, or possibly made it worse, he’d be out for the rest of that season. Or longer.

On top of that, he’d have to deal with his standings. Out of play meant his rating would be affected and his stats would tank—and not only his. The team would take a hit as well. He’d disappoint the fans. He’d disappoint his friends and family.

He might never be the same afterward.

He’d end up a nobody. Just like he’d been told.

His football career may already be at the top of the spiral, just waiting for that push to send him off the edge and into the vortex. He’d always compared his life to a house of cards. Painstaking to build, easy to destroy. The king sits perched at the top, but then one slip, one tiny tug or poke on one of those cards and the whole thing would come tumbling down.

A tremor now rocked the house beneath his feet.

 

 

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