Training the Las Vegas Slayers by day, sampling Sin City's delights by night, Nate Franco's life is one to envy. But a hot nightclub encounter could change all that. Because Charlotte Blue is more than a beautiful stranger. She's the daughter of his team's new owners—and his rival for the top training job. To keep his career and his legacy intact, Nate's prepared to play a little dirty.
Charlotte works hard to make her mark in a male-dominated sport. On the field, she and Nate are the picture of professionalism. In the bedroom, she's risking everything for their breathtaking forbidden affair. But is Nate just using her so his family can reclaim the team—or will they be able to look beyond the passionate games to embrace real love?
As general manager of the Las Vegas Slayers, Danica Blue goes toe-to-toe with players whose size is matched only by their egos. Quarterback Dex Harper is the biggest and toughest of them all, with a hell-raiser reputation that he insists he doesn't deserve. And Danica, the good daughter who's always played by the rules, is suddenly tempted to break every last one.
Football is the only thing Dex has ever been able to count on. To save his career he needs Danica's PR savvy, and he's happy to help her discover her inner bad girl in return. But glimpsing the real woman behind that sexy, flawless facade is making him realize how much is at stake. Because getting back on the team could mean losing Danica, unless he's willing to risk it all—and play for keeps….
“Here. Your, uh, personal items scattered when you dropped your purse.”
Danica took the tiny item, and finding it unfamiliar, twisted it to read the label. Travel-sized massage oil. Cherry flavored.
A gasp almost slipped out, but she pressed her lips together and watched for his reaction. But he was diligently scooping the other runaway items—a silky blindfold, a pair of mini “sex dice,” a strip of condoms—into the pink goody bag Veda had jammed into her purse.
Crap. Blunders like this didn’t happen to her. What could she say to kill both the awkwardness and the electric current of tension that ping-ponged between them? “These are gifts.”
Dex looked her in the eyes, handing her the bag. His fingers swept her palm, and he straightened, distancing himself. Too late. His touch, despite how brief and innocent, had sparked a sensation that penetrated her flesh and was working its way into her bloodstream.
Count on a few strippers to make her overly aware of a good-looking man.
“Your…gifts…are no business of mine.” But the heat that danced in his gaze as it flicked from the pink bag to her eyes told her that maybe he’d like them to be his business.
According to Lisa Marie, an imagination’s a terrible thing to ignore. So is a good cappuccino. After years of college, customer service gigs and a career in caregiving, she at last gave in to buying an espresso machine and writing to her imagination’s desire. She lives in America’s heartland and she has every intention of making the Colorado mountains her new stomping grounds. She drives a truck, enjoys indie rock, collects Medieval literature, watches too many comedies, has a not-so-secret love for lace and adores rugged men with a little bit of nerd.
Places to find Lisa Marie Perry:
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