Young, rich, and unaware of how seriously hot he is, Brooks Davison is tearing it up as the latest shortstop for the New York Kings, despite his tendency to blush whenever girls scream his name.
When a health scare forces his best friend, Kyle Roberts, off the team, no one can stomach the thought of replacing him, especially so close to the playoffs.
Until Kyle’s sister, Sasha, steps in, convincing management to let her take his place. The idea of signing the first female player in Major League history proves too tempting for the Kings to resist.
Nevertheless, Brooks doesn’t want any part of it. Sasha is Kyle’s little sister, not some sideshow.
Yet when Kyle takes a turn for the worse, Brooks promises to do everything in his power to help Sasha win a championship for him. Because there’s no way he’s letting either of them down. Not now, not ever.
Dad, you talk to Brooks…on a regular basis?” I lean back, gripping the edge of the table.
“Pretty much ten minutes here, ten minutes there. The boy has a rotten father, so I try to check in with him from time to time.” He shrugs, sliding the tray closer to him.
“How bad is his father?” I question him, eager to hear more.
“He told Brooks when he got signed that, ‘A real man doesn’t play a game for a living,’ so you can imagine what a tough ass he is. Most fathers would be over the moon to have a son”—he pauses, smiling at me—“or a daughter in the majors. Not him. I guess working on an oil rig eleven months out of the year will do that to a person.”
“I had no idea,” I mumble glumly, staring off into space.
“Well, at least he has his mama. And you and Kyle.”
I can feel my dad’s eyes on me, but I’m too afraid to meet them. He doesn’t live in a bubble. He must’ve heard the rumors swirling around.
“You know?” I finally glance up at him. When he nods, I quickly look down again. “I thought you’d want to castrate him when you found out.”
“Brooks is a fine young man,” he replies without hesitation. “Just be patient with him, Sasha. He’s not as sure of himself as you are.”
My dad reaches across the table to pat my hand. He knows I’ve been waiting for Brooks to call, and I’m upset that he left me hanging. I should know from the ‘go get’em!’ pep talks of my childhood that my dad gives good advice. He only ever wants what’s best for me. I should listen to him.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, smiling up at him. “I’ll try.”
About Collette West
Collette West grew up as somewhat of a jock-nerd hybrid. Entering the world three weeks premature, her dad nearly missed her birth because he had seats behind the dugout for a sold-out, highly-anticipated match-up between two of baseball’s biggest rivals. Not to be outdone, her book-loving mom taught her how to read by the time she was three. A love of the game coupled with an appreciation for the written word were instilled in Collette’s impressionable brain from a young age. No wonder her characters believe in the philosophy: sports + romance = a little slice of heaven.
Splitting her time between the Pocono Mountains and Manhattan, Collette indulges her inner fangirl by going to as many games as she can from hockey to baseball and downloading every sports romance novel in existence onto her iPad. When she’s not clicking away on her laptop, she enjoys walking her dog in Central Park, satisfying her caffeine craving at the Starbucks on Broadway and keeping an eye out for Mr. Right. But above all, she loves dishing with her readers. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.
She is the author of NIGHT GAMES and GAME CHANGER.