Meet Skip Quincy, Shortstop for the New York Nighthawks. Up for Pre-Order!
Get it now for only $2.99. Price goes up to $4.99 on release day.
(Steamy, contemporary romance. Caution: locker room language)
Hang with your 'Hawks buddies, Dan, Matt, Jake, Nat, and Bobby...
A bit about the book:
One minute ten-year-old Skip Quincy was riding in the backseat of his parents’ car, the next, he woke up in Little Angels orphanage. Within six months, he was adopted. He was welcomed by Mrs. Quincy, the woman he learned to call “mom”, but Mr. Quincy wasn’t a fan.
Athletically gifted early on, Skip pursued baseball. He loved the sport and excelled, despite his indifferent dad. Driven to succeed to prove his father wrong, Skip worked hard. Under the guidance of his beloved high school coach, he won the coveted, challenging position of shortstop. Though plagued by self-doubt, Skip made it to the Nighthawks. He focused on baseball and relied on brief encounters with groupies as a substitute for love. When two women entered his life, satisfaction with one-night stands faded. Mimi or Francie? Could either one give him the love and acceptance he’d never had?
Take a taste of the book. (Note, this excerpt is unedited)
The team had no games Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, but daily practice continued. They needed to stay sharp, and in shape for the playoffs. Friday night, Bobby Hernandez and his fiancée, Elena, threw a party. Skip picked up a couple of six packs and headed over to their place.
He threw his jacket on the bed, then joined his teammates and their women in the living room. Bobby hugged Skip and ushered him into the kitchen.
“Beer’s in here,” he said, before returning to his fiancée.
Francie Whitman, Elena’s best friend, greeted Skip. He bent to kiss the top of her head. She was only five four to his six feet two inches.
“Beer?” Francie asked.
She nabbed one from the fridge. “Food’s in the living room.”
Matt Jackson, the Nighthawks catcher, stuck his head in. “Poker in the back room.”
“Strip poker?” Skip wiggled his eyebrows.
“I’m in,” Francie added.
Skip ruffled her hair. “I don’t play strip poker with my little sister.”
She frowned and gave him a shove, but wasn’t able to move the big man much. “I’m not your little sister.”
“One of the guys?”
“Play strip poker with me and find out.”
“Mimi Banner’s not here, Skip. Only guys playing cards in the back.” Bobby joined them.
“Hell, I can see what they got in the locker room.”
“Mimi Banner?” Francie trained her gaze on him.
Skip felt color rise to his cheeks.
“Yeah. She’s his girlfriend,” Bobby said.
“Is that true?” Francie asked.
“You two were naked together in the stadium last night,” Bobby piped up.
“Can’t you keep your mouth shut about anything?” Skip frowned.
“Sorry. Cat’s out of the bag now.”
“Oh?” Francie cocked an eyebrow.
“She wanted to take some pictures. She’s a photographer. Totally innocent. I never touched her,” Skip said.
“Sure, I get it,” Francie said, exiting the room.
“What the fuck did you have to go and say that for?” Skip pushed Bobby against the wall.
“Francie’s Elena’s best friend. She’s a good kid. I don’t want you messing with her.”
“Is that your business?”
“It is. She needs to know you’re hound-dogging Mimi.”
“Who says I am?”
“Are you going out with her?”
“See?” Bobby took a beer.
“It’s a free country. I can have dinner with whoever I want.”
“Right. But just not Francie. Not when you’re banging Mimi.”
“Who said anything about banging?”
Bobby laughed. “I know you, Skip.”
“Yeah, well don’t jump to any conclusions.”
“You have a thing for Francie?”
“She’s like my little sister.”
“You don’t have a little sister.”
“Leave her alone. Her life is rough enough. She doesn’t need a broken heart.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“None of your business. Stay away from her, Skip. I mean it.” Bobby shook his forefinger in his friend’s face.
“I’d never break her heart.”
“Good. Then leave her alone.”
“Fine. She’s the little sister I never had.”
“Good.” Bobby twisted the top off the bottle of beer and left the room.
Skip leaned against the wall. Little Francie Whitman, short, with dark-brown hair, gray eyes and a slim figure, was just his type.
At thirty, Skip was still serial dating. He’d never had a relationship because he’d been devoted to his career. All his energy went into baseball, starting at a tender age.
PRE-ORDER THE EBOOK, SKIP QUINCY, SHORTSTOP HERE:
NOOK (BARNES & NOBLE)