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Friday, April 7, 2017


A sneak peek at Nat Owen, First Base.
A gritty, realistic, baseball romance. It marries real life with fiction. No sugar coating, no cookie cutter characters in this story. Here's a small piece, anything larger would give away too much. Plenty of twists to keep you on the edge of your seat.
Out of my comfort zone, but a story I love...

The club had a neon sign on the front. The drum from the live music inside reverberated like the beat of a huge heart. Nicki tapped her foot while she waited for her escorts...
Two burly men stood by the entrance, their arms crossed over their impressive chests. Nicki chuckled to herself. If she had come alone, she probably wouldn’t stand a chance of getting in. But with Skip and Bobby, easy peasy.
“Private party tonight, lady,” one of the men said to Nicki.
The bouncers recognized the Nighthawks and greeted them with smiles and handshakes.
“It’s a private party tonight, gentlemen,” the dark-haired bouncer said.
“Nat Owen’s inside. First base? He invited us,” Skip lied.
The big man nodded. “Yeah. I saw him.” He stood aside for the men but closed his meaty fingers around Nicki’s arm. “Just a minute, sister.”
“She’s with us,” Bobby said, putting his arm around Nicki’s shoulders.
“Any friend of yours is welcome, Mr. Hernandez,” the man said, releasing her arm and stepping back.
“Bobby, please.”
The man smiled, and the three were admitted. Inside the club was dark. Purple and magenta lights strobed across the room, highlighting people on the dance floor and at the bar in lurid shades, adding a surreal effect. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. She snaked her arm around Bobby’s waist and clung to him.
Totally at home on the softball diamond, Nicki was out of her element in this tony, upscale nightclub. Bobby squeezed her shoulder, glanced down at her and grinned. She shifted her gaze to the dance floor. The brightness of a too-blonde head bouncing to the beat attracted her eye. Lucy and Nat were grinding together to the music. Nicki’s heart sank. She turned to leave.
“Come on, Nick. We just got here,” Bobby said, taking her elbow and escorting her to the bar. “Whatcha drinkin’?”
Instantly, she got why Dusty had tried to discourage her from coming. Did she really want to see Nat and Lucy practically doing it on the dance floor?

Up for pre-order (releasing next week):