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Boys of Summer
Pitch Perfect
Coming Soon:
Secret McQueen
Cold Hard Secret
A Secret to Die For
Boys of Summer
Perfect Catch
She’d be the perfect catch if he could take his eye off the ball.
Pitch Perfect
© 2013 Sierra Dean
Boys of Summer, Book 1
Emmy Kasper knows exactly how lucky she is. In a sport with few opportunities for women at the pro level, she’s just landed her dream job as head athletic trainer for the San Francisco Felons baseball team. Screwing up is not an option.
She’s lost in thought as she pedals to the spring training facility, her mind abuzz with excitement as she rounds a corner—and plows head-on into two runners. The end of her career dances before her eyes when she realizes she’s almost run over the star pitcher.
As Tucker Lloyd watches the flustered Emmy escape with his bandana tied around her skinned knee, the view is a pleasant change from worrying about his flagging fastball. At thirty-six, the tail end of his career is glimmering on the horizon. If he can’t pull something extraordinary out of his ball cap, the new crop of rookies could make this season his last.
The last thing either of them needs is a distraction.
The last thing either of them expects is love.
Warning: Contains a down-on-his-luck pitcher, a good-girl athletic therapist, chemistry that’s out of the park and sexy times that’ll make them round all the bases.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Pitch Perfect:
What was she doing?
Tucker’s fingers caressed the sensitive skin along her jaw and followed the upward curve of her face until he was holding the back of her head, his hand buried in her hair.
He’d told her she could say stop whenever she wanted, but she didn’t want him to stop. She never wanted him to stop, and finally she could let him follow through without the guilt.
Tucker kissed her cheek softly, and she let out a little sigh. He paused for a moment, but when she made no other sound aside from the exhalation, he continued the task at hand.
His delicate kisses moved with practiced slowness from her cheek to the dip where her jaw met her neck, and there he gently licked her skin. The shocking warmth of his tongue on her made a thrill shoot through her, piercing her groin and taking her from mildly aroused to downright horny.
Emmy no longer wondered what she was doing. She wondered instead how she had gone this long without doing it.
She raised her palms to the front of his shirt and clasped two handfuls of the cotton into her fists, tugging him closer. Since he couldn’t physically come nearer to her with her legs in the way, she parted them and made room for his body between her thighs.
The heat of his skin was evident even through their two layers of clothes, and once his body was flush against hers, his kiss moved from her neck to her lips. He seized her mouth in such a way she momentarily questioned if he really was the nice guy he seemed, because no nice man should kiss with the owning, demanding power Tucker was using. The way his lips parted hers and his fingers clawed at her hair was needy and insistent, full of something far more primal than she’d expected from her mild-mannered pitcher.
She was intoxicated by it. Wanting her had made him this crazy, and she wanted to know how wild he could be.
Her mouth yielded to his kiss, lips opening so his tongue could meet hers, teasing, playfully nipping with his teeth, deepening the kiss each time she hesitated until she was sure she might melt into a puddle on his floor. He had a robust taste of dark coffee and something else that was masculine and entirely Tucker. She’d kissed him before, but never so much and so deeply. It was as though this embrace were an abyss and he was willing her to fall into it with him.
Releasing her hair, he braced one hand on either side of her against the counter and leaned into her so she was forced to bend backwards, the countertop meeting the small of her back.
