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Wednesday, August 3, 2016

OVERTIME, the Final Touchdown -- book 8 in the First & Ten series #nfl #football


The final book in the First & Ten series is here -- OVERTIME, the Final Touchdown. Here's a bit about the books:


What happens after the last concussion? How long does an engagement last without turning into marriage?  Is an unplanned pregnancy a dream come true or a nightmare? Real life takes over for the Connecticut Kings when the football season ends. 

Catch the “play-by-play” for each Kings’ player in this book, the final in the series. With a chapter for each team member, and a few surprises thrown in, you’ll be on the edge of your seat, but satisfied when the final whistle blows. No First & Ten book would be complete without an action scene. But can you guess who’s playing? Read Overtime,the Final Touchdown, and find out. 

With a different chapter for each couple, here are a couple of snippets. First, Harley:

He removed his hand, ripped her panties down and off, and bounded from the bed. He shed his boxers in an instant. Latching on to her ankle, he pulled her to the edge of the mattress, scooped her up in his arms, and headed for the door.
“What? What?”
“Time for a swim.”
“Oh, no! You’re not? Harley? No, No…,” she screamed, as he tossed her in the pool.
Leaping in, he knifed into the water next to her. She came up sputtering. Once she had her breath, he was on her, kissing her, pulling her body to his.
“This…this is why we’re here?” she managed when he came up for air.
He nodded. “The most romantic thing I could think of.”
“Really?”
“It’s like that night. Our last night together on the show—in the hot tub. That was so romantic.”

From Pete Sebastian's story:

The slamming of the car door alerted Jo to Pete’s return. A blast of cold air mixed with his energy hit her as he banged through the front door and barreled into the house.
“They were having a sale, so I got Butch all three sizes. Wait ’til you see!” Pete sported a wide grin as he set down a large shopping bag. “Where is the little slugger?”
“Napping. Keep it down. He’s got another half hour to go.”
Her husband nodded as he ripped the bag open. He pulled out the tiniest baseball glove she’d ever seen, then one larger, then one bigger than that. She counted four gloves and uniforms in sizes from eighteen months through 4T.
“What the hell?” She looked askance at Pete.
“I know. Baseball. But that’s what’s in season now. Don’t worry,” he said, raising his hand. “I’ll get the same stuff in football in September.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He raised questioning eyes to his wife.
“I mean, so much sports stuff? What if he’s a scholar instead of an athlete?”
Pete burst out laughing. “Honestly, Jo. You crack me up. Look at his hands. Huge. Long legs too. Definitely quarterback material.”
She chuckled while she carted the clothing to the laundry room. She always washed all of her son Trevor’s outfits before he wore them. She glanced at the receipt and shook her head. It pleased and scared her how much money Pete lavished on their child. But he was making a fantastic salary, so it wouldn’t put a dent in their life style, or Trevor’s college fund, either.
Pete had conceded on the name while she was in labor. He’d called it a “sissy name” and had taken to calling his son “Butch.” Jo was afraid the nickname would stick. Pete’s daughters, Alissa and Alexia, had picked it up too. Jo would have compromised on another dignified name, but “Butch” was not on her list.


Get this final story here: 






Or begin at the beginning with Griff Montgomery, Quarterback. Only $.99 


“Even better.” Carla licked her lips. “I’ll bet she has no idea you’re having sexual fantasies about her.”
“I’m not. It was an accident,” he hissed.
“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. Wonder what she’d think if she knew?”
“Don’t, Carla. Please don’t. I’m begging you.” Griff reached for her arm, but she shook him off.
Buddy faced the quarterback. “What the hell did you do?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
“Oh no. You didn’t?” His eyebrows rose.
Griff nodded. “Guilty.”
“Whoa, stand back, Tony. There’s gonna be some fireworks in a minute.” Buddy pushed Hastings to the wall.
“You wouldn’t be lying, now, would ya?” Carla asked, directing her stare at Buddy.
“See for yourself.” He gestured to the brunette at the corner table.
“Lauren!” Carla cupped her hands and yelled.
Lauren stood up, turning to face them.
“You Lauren?”
“Please, please, Carla. I’m sorry, so sorry,” Griff whispered. “Don’t do this.”

Get it here:










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#outlander

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

TUESDAY TALES, PICTURE PROMPT - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES...





Welcome to another Tuesday Tales selection. We are continuing with Maggie's Story today. Oh, that John. What a rascal! This week we have a picture prompt and a limit of only 300 words.  
Please scroll down for the link back to Tuesday Tales where you can read some wonderful stories by talented writers. Thanks for coming. 

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John brought the empty cocktail glasses into the kitchen.  
“That looks like enough food for an army,” he said.
“Missus said if I made dinner ahead, I could have tomorrow night off.” Maggie wiped the sweat off her forehead with a paper towel.
“Hot date?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“You think  I’m sleeping with  you and dating someone else, too?”
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
Her eyes watered. “It’s me birthday. I just wanted to have the night off. Maybe go to a movie or something. Sit in the cafĂ© and have a coffee?”
She rested her hands on her hips and surveyed the four bubbling pots. “Run along, darlin’. I got work to do.”
After cleaning up from dinner, she crawled into bed at eight, exhausted. Sleep came quickly.
Late afternoon, as Maggie rode the elevator, a deep sigh surfaced. She was all alone on her birthday. Feeling sorry for herself, she counted her cash. Twenty dollars –not enough for a meal and a glass of wine.
On the corner, someone came up behind her.
“Stick ‘em up, lady,” came a rough voice as something hard poked her in the back. She raised her hands.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’ll give you my money.”
“Gotcha!” She turned around to find John laughing hysterically. She smacked his shoulder.
“John Eldridge! You dirty so-and-so. You scared me to death.”
“The tone of your voice. What a hoot! My finger was my ‘gun’.”
She frowned at him and folded her arms across her chest. “What’re you doin’ out?”
“Mister owed me some time.”
“Oh?”
John took her elbow. “I’m takin’ you to a birthday dinner. Right down the street. See the sign? Can’t let my best girl buy her own dinner on her birthday, can I?”



Monday, July 18, 2016

MAGGIE’S STORY – TT – WRITE


Welcome! Thanks for stopping by. We continue with Maggie's Story today, with a little surprise at the end. Scroll down for the link back to Tuesday Tales and some fine writers. 

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Maggie yawned and stretched. The antique grandfather clock in the hall chimed five, time to get up. No. Vacation. Forgot.  As she relaxed, her hand hit a warm, naked body. She turned her head and spied John lying next to her, sound asleep.
Her expression softened as she touched his shoulder, then his short, dark, wavy hair. He stirred and she whipped her hand back to her side. He cracked an eye open.
“Mornin’ darlin’,” he whispered.
John had made love to her twice the night before. She pushed her toes down and smiled.
“Mornin’.”
“A right passionate one you are, Maggie.”
“Look who’s talkin’”
“That was nothin’. You get me blood goin’.” He rolled onto his side, his hand cupping her cheek.
“Don’t blame it on me, Mister.”
He chuckled. “Blame? Nothing to blame, sweetheart. It’s a good thing.”
Warmth and satisfaction flowed through her. Last night was just what she needed. It bucked up her spirits to be wanted, desired.
“I coulda gone all night.”
“Why didn’t ya, then?” She rolled on her side.
“Didn’t want to wear ya out. Not on the first night.”
She giggled. “It’s a faker you are, John Eldridge.”
He slid out of bed and her gaze follow his fine form to the dresser. He picked up a pen and wrote a few words, then opened a drawer and took out a rectangular box.

“This is for you my lady,” he said, returning to the bed.
She read what he’d written, “To thank you for the first of what I hope to be many nights together. Love, John.”

Her hand trembled a bit as she opened the box. Inside lay the stunning emerald necklace she’d seen the week before.


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Monday, July 11, 2016

TUESDAY TALES - SMUDGE - MAGGIE'S STORY

    


Wecome! We return to Maggie's Story with today's prompt "smudge". Thank you for coming. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. 

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 With only three nights left of their vacation in the Roberts’ splendid apartment, Maggie didn’t know what to expect. John had been as attentive as a suitor, yet he hadn’t even kissed her. Maggie had no intention of taking any vows with such an a-sexual man.            She secured the feather duster under her arm as she padded into the master bedroom, muttering, “The Mister and Missus take a holiday, but dust doesn’t.” 
     John followed her. “True enough.”        
     She kept her back to him, but he was right behind her, so close, she felt the heat from his chest. She knew she should tell him to move back, but she didn’t. A pair of warm hands cupped her shoulders. She put the feather duster down and turned to face him.     “Look, a smudge.”                                                                               “Where?”                                                                                            “On your nose. I’ll get it.”          
                                   He stepped up and wiped it with his handkerchief. Maggie smelled the scent of his aftershave. It was clean, fresh and a touch piney. She liked it. Before her gaze met his, he lowered his mouth to hers. Maggie had wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He was gentle, but passionate, his lips soft. She melted in his arms. He drew her closer, crushing her against him.                   
“I want you, my girl. Come to bed with me.” He broke and took her hand. She followed him into his room. The bed called to her. It had been so long since a man had touched her, kissed her or made love to her. John was handsome, gallant, and good to her. 
“What do you say, Maggie?” John asked, his eyes aglow with desire.                                              
“I say, ‘yes’.” She peered shyly up at him through her lashes.                                                          
"You make me one happy man, my darlin’,” he said, unbuttoning her blouse.
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Tuesday, July 5, 2016

TUESDAY TALES - NECKLACE


Welcome! This week's word prompt is "necklace." We continue with Maggie and John's story. Thanks for coming! Scroll down for the link back to Tuesday Tales. 


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Maggie didn’t mean to pry, but the delicate chain with a small emerald in the middle caught her eye. The necklace was beautiful. She’d taken to cleaning John’s room, since they had become friends. She never expected to find something so lovely on his dresser.
“Probably for Gladys,” she murmured to herself. John had been dating Gladys, Mrs. Upton Myers maid for some months. Still, she couldn’t resist holding it up to her neck and glancing in the mirror. The sound of a door closing in another part of the apartment jarred her back to reality.
The last thing she wanted was to be caught admiring something that was intended for someone else. A touch of sadness sprang up in her. She and John were only friends and that was the way it had to stay. He had someone else and she was afraid of getting into trouble. Maggie had to be careful as she was alone in the States, and there was no one here to take her in if she got knocked up again.
Returning to the kitchen, she almost bumped into John. He shot her a warm smile, which she did not return. Why get any closer to a man who was already taken? He caught her arm.
“Whoa. Wait up a second, Maggie. Where you off to in such a hurry?”
“Got rooms to clean.”
“On vacation?”
“The Mister and Missus may have left, but it’s never a vacation for me. If they get back to a dirty and dusty house, it’ll be my last day off.”
“Can’t you take a break for a cup of tea?” He bent down to make eye contact.
“I guess.”
“I put the kettle on.” He guided her into the big, warm room. “You sit. I’ll get it.”
When the whistle sounded, he turned off the flame and filled a pot he had ready. Maggie took four biscuits from a canister and put them on a plate. He joined her with the hot beverage and took the seat across.
“So, when you steppin’ out with Glady again?” She asked, stirring her drink.
John choked on his saliva. “What do you know about Gladys?”
“I know you’re sweet on her and she on you. You’ve been seeing her for quite a while, haven’t you?”
He cast his glance down to his cup. “That’s over.”
“Over? Why?”
He cleared his throat. “I’ve changed my mind. She’s not the girl for me.”
Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Yep. Found someone better.”
“Who?”
“You.” He raised his eyes to hers.

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