Author: Kendra C. Highley
Series: Suttonville Sentinels #3
Publication Date: July 10, 2017
Publisher: Entangled Teen Crush
Publisher: Entangled Teen Crush
Pitcher Dylan Dennings has his future all
mapped out: make the minors straight out of high school, work his way up the
farm system, and get called up to the majors by the time he’s twenty-three. The
Plan has been his sole focus for years, and if making his dreams come true means
instituting a strict “no girls” policy, so be it.
Lucy Foster, needlepoint ninja, big sister
to an aspiring pitcher, and chicken advocate, likes a little mayhem. So what if
she gets lost taking her brother to baseball camp…at her own high school? The pitching
coach, some hotshot high school player, obviously thinks she’s a hot mess. Too
bad he’s cute, because he’s so not her type.
Problem is, they keep running into each
other, and every interaction sparks hotter than the last. But with Dylan’s
future on the line, he has to decide whether some rules are made to be broken…
Disclaimer: This book contains a crazy
night of moonlit skinny-dipping, a combustible crush, and kisses swoony enough
to unwind even the most Type A athlete.
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Excerpt
When
she pulled into the small lot, only one other car was there: a charcoal Porsche
crossover. The tailgate was up, and Dylan was leaning into the back, his face
hidden from hers.
“Okay,”
she breathed. “You can do this.”
Being
nervous was so stupid. She was never nervous before meeting up with a guy.
Excited maybe, but not palms-slick, knees-trembling, stomach-fluttering
nervous.
But
she was.
She
made her way through the gate and onto the field. A catcher’s mitt, a chest
guard, and a helmet with a mask were lying on the ground by the metal thing
that kept pitches from hitting the spectators.
Just
how seriously was he taking this? “Is all this stuff for me?”
The
tailgate slammed closed. “Yeah, just a sec.”
Dylan,
carrying a basket of baseballs with a glove resting on top, came striding in
from the parking lot. He was dressed in his usual: Tight, dry-fit T-shirt and
athletic shorts. When had she started thinking that was sexy? Maybe it was the way
he moved in those clothes—confident and sure. Like nothing could touch him.
Like he owned the ground he walked on, but was willing to share it with her.
Heat
crept up her neck that nothing to do with the brutal sunshine.
He
carried the basket to the pitcher’s mound, then turned to face her. “Overkill?”
She
looked down at the catcher’s equipment, hoping he hadn’t caught her gawking.
“Maybe a little. I was thinking more about tossing a ball back and forth.”
Dylan
cocked his head. “Not for Otis. There are nets and things that will let him
pitch on his own, but if you really want to catch for him, you’ll want to do it
the right way.”
Lucy
held in a sigh. He was in full instructor mode. She’d have to work around that
if she wanted to crack his resolve. And she really wanted to try. “Maybe show
me how to hold a baseball the right way, and we can work up from there?”
His
eyes narrowed. “Otis could teach you that.”
“I
want you to teach me.”
That
hung in the air between them. Dylan looked away, but his shoulders were tense.
Good, someone knew how she felt, too. “Lucy…”
She
wasn’t going to hear any excuses. Serena was right—She needed to cut the crap.
She marched over to the bucket of baseballs and pulled one out. She walked over
to Dylan, stopping a foot away, and held up the ball. “Show me.”
His
head snapped up. The heat in his gaze burned straight through her, and she had
to bite back a smile of triumph. She had his attention now. And someone liked
girls
who
took control.
A
line knit between his eyebrows, and his shoulders were up around his ears, but
he didn’t tear his eyes away from hers. “Okay, I’ll teach you, if that’s what
you want.”
His
voice was soft, not annoyed, as he moved around to stand behind her. His breath
was warm on her neck and goose bumps raced down both her arms. His hands
covered hers, helping her turn the ball, so it was in the right spot against
her palm, before moving her fingers into the correct position.
Lucy
hardly breathed.
“This
is how you hold the ball—always hold it across the seams.” He gripped her hand
in his larger one, and mimed throwing the ball, not like a pitch, but like one
of the other players would. “This is how outfielders throw, but it’s all you need
to send the ball back to Otis.”
He
mimed the throw again, moving her arm overhead. “You’ll release it from the
top. Think you’ve got it?”
Lucy
wanted to say no, just so he’d keep holding her arm, but she nodded. “Let me
try.”
He
stepped back, and she took a deep breath. Her hands were shaking. You can do
this. Maybe. She regripped the ball like he’d shown her, wound up, and threw.
The
ball went about ten feet, bounced off the ground, and rolled.
Dylan
couldn’t stifle his chuckle. “That was…uh, that was good for a first try.”
Lucy
put her hands on her hips. “It was terrible. Let me try again.”
He
dug three balls out of the basket and handed her one. She threw the first one
farther, but way to the left.
Grumbling, she held out her hand for another
ball. This time, she managed to throw it mostly straight.
“You
know?” Dylan still sounded amused. “This might be good for Otis. He’ll have to
practice fielding balls that come off the bat on a hop anyway.”
“Is
that a nice way of making lemonade out of my lemon of an arm?” Lucy asked.
Dylan
winked at her and trotted into the field after the balls. Lucy watched as he
bent to pick them up. She had to admit, the view was pretty spectacular.
She
didn’t quit ogling him in time, and Dylan straightened up to find her staring
at him, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. He strolled over, grinning.
“What?”
She
smiled back. “How do I catch a pitch?”
“You’ll
have to put on the mask and guards, first.”
Lucy
went for the gear and put it on. “Now what?”
“You
squat.”
His
voice was daring her to do it. Fine. She dropped into a crouch and punched the
mitt a few times. “Like this?”
“Uh,
yeah.”
His
voice had cracked—now she was getting somewhere. She waggled a bit, crouching
deeper, and grinned when he watched her, slack jawed. “Show me what you’ve
got.”
A
fresh smirk. “I throw pretty hard.”
What,
did he think she was made of glass? “Prove it.”
Mumbling
something she couldn’t hear, Dylan paced around the mound a minute, then
settled down to wind up.
The
pitch that came at her moved much faster than she expected. She caught it,
barely, then pulled her hand out of the mitt and shook it. “Ow. You win.”
“Hey,
you caught it. That’s something.” He was nodding in approval. “That’s good for
the first time.”
“You’re
a good coach. I see why Otis likes you so much.” She stood, stretching the
kinks out of her back.
“Speaking of which, I need to be honest. I wasn’t here
just to learn to throw a ball. Truth is, I wanted to see you. I couldn’t think
of a way to convince you unless Otis was involved somehow.”
Dylan
took a few steps off the pitcher’s mound, inching closer. “I guess that’s
fair.”
She
took a more obvious step toward him and pulled off the helmet and chest plate.
“I appreciate you worrying about Otis. I do. But…he’s old enough to understand,
and I want to get to know you.”
“We’re
totally different.” Dylan’s voice grew rough. “Opposites—”
“Opposites sometime attract.” Lucy took
another big step, closing the distance to about ten feet. “That’s part of the
fun. I’m not saying I want a proposal or anything. Just coffee.”
“We
already had coffee.” To her surprise, he came three steps closer. His fists
clenched, unclenched.
“Maybe…”
She waited, watching an obvious war play out
via the expression on his face. He wanted to try this thing out as much as she
did, but his so-called “better nature” was holding him back. Feeling bold, she
closed the distance, standing right in front of him. “Maybe, what?”
He
took in a sharp breath, eyes fixed on hers. Dylan’s eyes weren’t as blue as
she’d originally thought, but a stormy blue-gray. Intense and distant, kind of
like how he could be sometimes. She hoped she could fix the “distant” part.
Finally,
he reached for her hand. “How about lunch?”
Smiling,
she gave his fingers a little squeeze. “Thought you’d never ask.”
OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES
Author Info
Kendra
C. Highley lives in north Texas with her husband and two children. She also
serves as staff to four self-important and high-powered cats. This, according
to the cats, is her most important job. She believes in everyday magic,
extraordinary love stories, and the restorative powers of dark chocolate.
Giveaway Details
·
$25 Amazon gift card (US and International)
·
Signed copies of The Bad Boy Bargain and Swinging at Love, and signed
bookmarks (US only)
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