Play
Author
Holly Roberts
Author Bio
USA Today Best-Selling Author Holly S. Roberts is a retired sex crimes and homicide detective who managed to retain her sense of humor. She writes under three pen names dreaming about stories from life on the street as a beat cop in an unflattering blue uniform to erotic romance.
She married her high school sweetheart at the age of eighteen after experiencing love at first sight at age twelve. Her husband took a little longer to realize he couldn’t live without her but came along nicely after he stopped fighting fate.
D’Elen McClain is her paranormal romance pen name and Suzie Ivy her tough crime fighting alter ego pen name.
Her two dogs, Dizzy, a Rottweiler with anxiety issues, and Duchess, her overweight Chihuahua, sleep at her feet while she writes steamy fantasies at her home high in the Arizona mountains. She also keeps her pen in blue ink as a contributing writer for UniformStories.com, Below The Salt News, and Bad Luck Detective blog.
Description
When Killian MacGregor, the hottest quarterback in the NFL, eyes the perfect pair of female legs, he spends an hour tracking the gorgeous woman in a room filled with rowdy teammates until one gets out of line.
Rebecca Cavanaugh, a long distance runner for the state team, intimidates boys and men with her quick wit and majestic height. The pre-season jock party isn’t her scene, but she’s roped into attending to provide her sister a sober ride home.
Hiding in the kitchen to avoid the athletic sex fest, a drunken thug forces Rebecca to her knees, and waves a giant ding-dong in her face. Before Rebecca can extricate herself from the hairy situation, an unknown champion saves the night. When Killian assists Rebecca off the floor, she’s stunned into silence while staring at the sexiest man alive.
Will Killian’s bad boy rep and Rebecca’s need for commitment, make this the most impossible “Play” of the season? Or, will Killian’s haunting past and need for victory destroy the most important game of his life?
“Play” is intended for mature readers 18+. Enjoy with caution… this book contains adult situations, sex, and more balls than a girl knows what to do with.
Book excerpt
He didn’t comment, just pulled around the long circular drive and headed out to the main road. The campus was twenty minutes away without traffic, and for once I wished there was a mile-long pileup. I wanted to breathe in his scent for the rest of the night; hell…the rest of my life. Sable-haired babies; tall, coordinated athletes. We’d make the perfect children if they looked like their father. A laugh escaped my lips. Crazy. I was absolutely certifiable.
“Do you want to share the joke?” In the close confines of the car, his thick, molasses voice made me fidget.
My good-girl sense of honor got the best of me and I spilled part of the beans. “This is unreal. I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but really. You…Killian MacGregor, driving me home.”
He gave a low, sexy chuckle. “My mother would be proud.”
“Oh gosh…you even have a mother.”
This time he laughed and every nerve ending I possessed went on high alert. My nipples tightened, my breathing grew shallow, and I clenched my thighs tighter.
“Yes, and I was even created the old-fashioned way.”
He. Did. Not. Just. Say. That.
His next words drew me out of my fantasy.
“How old are you?”
I turned and looked at his profile—the line of his jaw, the curve of his nose…still perfect even in shadow.
I took a long a breath. “Twenty-one and old enough to know better than to let my sister drag me to a party like the one we just left. Sorry, no disrespect, but that’s not my scene.”
I had completely blown it now. Given away the fact that “slutty college girl” wasn’t my thing even if, for the first time in my life, I wanted to qualify for the slut Olympics. I couldn’t help thinking about what he saw…my favorite skirt, a tad too short, but it accented my legs, which were my best feature. Unfortunately, when it came to my chest, there was nothing much to show. I’d worn a peach-colored, button-up blouse with just a touch of lace on the shoulders for sleeves; more clothes than any two girls at the party wore, including my sister. My nothing-special brown hair had been curled, but was now in complete disarray. I was tall and gangly looking, though he had no idea I was usually quite coordinated and lithe.
He glanced at me and the headlights from an oncoming car showed that sexy tilt to his lips.
“Do you run for the college team?” He turned his head back to the road.
“Yes. Scholarship.” I wasn’t ashamed.
“So you’re good?”
“Middle of the pack.”
He didn’t say anything after that. I gave directions when we got closer. He pulled in front of the dilapidated college-like dorm apartments and my hand went to the door handle.
“Do not touch that.” There it was again, his “don’t mess with me” voice.
Funny, because I didn’t even consider going against his order.
Author Website
http://wickedstorytelling.com/