Want It All

 
 
 
Presents : New Release
 
Want it All
by Elizabeth Perry
 
AMAZON
 
Series: Sliding Home; Book 4
 
Genre: Sports Romance
 
GOODREADS
 
 
When the biggest player in the field finally meets his match …
 
I’m going to be honest, here. The moment that I met Brock Edwards, I was was sure that I had drawn the short straw.
 
I mean, seriously.
 
Who really talks like that?
 
He thinks that he is God’s gift to women, and while that may be partially true, it doesn’t matter to me.
 
I’m not falling for it.
 
I have one job, and one job only.
 
Keeping him in the game, before his fed up coach trades him at the end of the season.
 
It should be easy, except, he resists me at every turn. Just when I think that we’re making progress, BAM!
 
He turns back into an asshole.
 
I want to hate the guy, really, I do.
 
Except, the more time that I spend with him, the more I realize that there is a lot more to Brock Edwards than his image shows.
 
He’s pretty breathtaking, actually.
 
He also has heartbreak written across his face.
 
I’m going to work hard to keep him on the field, but I’m going to have to work harder to keep him out of my bed, and worse?
 
Out of my heart.
 
 
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Melting Ice

Title: Melting Ice
Author: Ginger Sharp
Genre: Sports Romance
Cover Designer: Michael Sharp
Editor: Kathy Krick
Publication Date: December 30th, 2018
Kris O’Neil is a rookie hockey player with a brooding sized chip on his shoulder about life, love, and women. Lexi Morgan is a trusting girl who expects the best out of everyone and is slowly becoming disillusioned about romance and men. When these two meet, sparks fly, tempers flare, and both learn to deal with the baggage in their mutual lives. Melting Ice is a modern day story about how opposites attract regardless of their pasts and present situations. Can Kris and Lexi prove that love can always find a way, or will they lose each other in the stresses of life.
 
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Ginger Sharp resides in New Jersey. For many years she worked in the information technology field. She has a love for traveling to other countries. Ginger is an avid supporter of animal welfare. Her first book, “Lost Her,” made its debut in 2013 on Amazon, which is followed by many other steamy adult romance novels. For more information on the author and the Lost, Beauty, and Parker’s Legacy series, visit gingersharp.us and follow Ginger Sharp Facebook: facebook.com/GingerSharpAuthor For a listing of her current works in progress, please visit her at gingersharp.us
Author Links:
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Extra Innings

Title: Extra Innings
Author: Lynn Stevens
Genre: YA Sports Romance
Cover Designer: Najla Qamber Designs
Publisher: Siren Press
Publication Date: September 18th, 2018
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
 
Blurb:
Victoria Hudson is a seventeen-year-old with a passion for baseball. When her grandmother buys a new house in the city, Vic discovers a way to play the game for the first time since getting kicked out of little league. She just has to move in with her hippie grandmother and make sure her father, a U.S. Senator and prospective Presidential candidate, doesn’t find out what she’s up to over the summer break.
After proving her abilities on the field, she catches the attention of Daniel Cho, the team’s catcher. Everything seems to be falling apart, and yet falling into place. Vic settles into a life she’s always wanted, that of a normal teenage girl. But Victoria Hudson is anything but normal. Once the press learns that the potential First Daughter is crossing the gender line to play baseball, Vic is thrust back into the spotlight and making headlines. The life she tries so hard to get away from simply won’t leave her alone.
 
Lynn Stevens flunked out of college writing her first novel. Yes, she still has it and no, you can’t read it. Surprisingly, she graduated with honors at her third school. A former farm girl turned city slicker turned suburbanite, Lynn lives in the Midwest where she drinks coffee and sips tea when she’s out of coffee. She’s the author of Full Count and Game On..

Author Links:
Buy Link: 
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2vLNHxW

Top of the 1st
Acid waved in my stomach, reaching for the peak of my throat.
Stop it. You can do this. Just go at it like you own the place. Stride up to the coach like Mom does when she’s on the donation hunt.
The fields sat at the southern end of Jackson Memorial Park: one for softball, one for baseball. I had parked on the baseball side by a beat-up orange truck. The boys were already there, tossing balls and joking loud enough that I heard them through the closed windows of my car. Thankfully, the softball field was empty. Taking a deep breath, I climbed out of the car, pulling my equipment from the backseat.
Maybe it was my BMW, or maybe it was me, but the only sound I heard as I stalked toward the field were birds chirping to one another. No doubt the guys recognized a girl when they saw one. Mother Nature blessed me a bit too much in the boob department for anybody to mistake me as a boy.
I strode onto the soft dirt of the field and straight toward the older man with the clipboard. Coach Bernie Strauss stared back at me. He was easily six-eight with tree trunk legs and arms that UFC fighters would die for. He looked more like a Marine Corps drill instructor than a summer league baseball coach. I totally wanted to test him by shouting “Semper Fi.”           
 I stopped in front of him, waiting for what I knew was coming.
“Softball practice ended about twenty minutes ago.” He sounded like he ate gravel for breakfast.
“I’m not here to play softball, Coach.” I straightened my back and channeled my mother’s unbending confidence. “I’m here to help you win the city championship this year.”
No one laughed like I expected. So I exhaled, relaxed. Big mistake.
“Get off my field. I ain’t got time for this,” he shouted loud enough that birds scattered from a nearby tree. Coach Strauss turned his back to me and continued to bark at the team. “If you don’t get back to practice, you’ll be running laps in three … two …” His slight Texan accent made the “you’s” sound like “ya’s”.
The boys started throwing and stretching again, but they didn’t stop watching us.
“Coach –” I began.
“I ain’t your coach.”
I lost my cool, just like my father. “This is bullcrap. Look at your registration sheet.” He didn’t, so I snatched the clipboard from him and pointed. “See the name Vic Hudson? Well, that’s me. I paid to play. And I fully intend to. It isn’t against the rules.”
Coach ripped the clipboard from my fingers and flipped to another page. I waited. He read. I tapped my foot. That’s not nearly as dramatic on a dirt infield. The boys stopped warming up again.
He looked me up and down. “Fine. I’ll give you a shot, Hudson. You suck and you’re gone.”
“I can deal with that.”
“Get out there.” He pointed at a tall, super skinny boy. “Delvin, warm her up.”
I tossed my bag into the dugout and jogged onto the field. It didn’t take me long to figure out why Coach Strauss told Delvin to warm up with me. He kicked his leg like a pitcher and tossed a pretty nasty fastball. If I had to guess, he could hit ninety from the mound on a good day. It would’ve been stupid if I said anything, even though every ball he threw at me stung my fingers like tiny pricks of a hundred safety pins. I didn’t even try to throw my hardest. I warmed up like it was any other day.
Then he began stepping back. One step here, then another.
Idiot.
I threw hard and high to make my point. Delvin had to reach to get it. He may throw harder, but I can throw farther.
“Alrigh’, get in here,” Coach yelled. He raised his eyes at Delvin, who shrugged. “I know most of you from last year. We only got two potential newbies. One’s a girl. Anyone got a problem with that?”
If they did, they sure as hell weren’t going to tell Coach Strauss.
“Good. I expect you to treat her like you’d treat anybody else.” He looked at me and softened his tone. “What position do you play, honey?”
“Third.” I glared at him. He smirked then turned back to the team. Before he could open his mouth, I said, “And I’m not your honey.”
His head snapped back like he’d taken a right hook to the cheek. “Excuse me?”
I pointed at Delvin. “Do you call him ‘honey’?”
Delvin’s cheeks glowed light pink with either rage or embarrassment. I didn’t know which and really didn’t care.
Coach didn’t answer me though. His chin grew beet red, which crept up his cheeks all the way to his pale yellow crew cut. Steam came out of every clogged pore on his face as he yelled, “Everybody at third. Jayden, get your ass to first.” He sneered at me and I expected to get kicked off the field. “We’re going to field some grounders and see who handles them best. I’ll hit you three then rotate. Hudson, ladies first.”
Crap. Me and my big mouth. He’s going to either hit me a line drive at a hundred miles an hour or make me go so far out of range that I make an ass of myself.
I jogged to third and dug my cleats into the stubborn dirt. The rest of the guys lined up along the fence, amused grins matching Strauss’s own jack-o-lantern expression. Coach tossed the ball into the air.
Crack.
I jumped spread eagle and dropped my glove between my legs, catching the line drive. I came down ready to throw to first, but Jayden wasn’t on the bag. He stood three steps off with his mouth open. Smiling, I rolled the ball back to home plate.
Coach didn’t give me time to get back into position when he hit a grounder to my left. In a game, the shortstop would’ve played it, but this was a different type of game. I dove and knocked it down. My throw to first was in the dirt, but I was on my butt when I whipped it across the infield. That shouldn’t be held against me. It was an almost impossible play.
The last ball went up the line. I hustled and would’ve had it clean until it hit the bag. It took a nasty bounce that was nearly out of reach. I jumped and brought it down barehanded, throwing to first off balance as I fell into foul territory.
I stood up without looking to see if Jayden caught it and walked to the fence to wait for my next turn. The guys gawked at me as I leaned against the fence, ignoring them. I’d made my point. I could field. My next time up, Coach hit some routine grounders.
After rotating through every infield position, it was time for batting practice.
 “You’re up,” Coach announced as he pointed his chunky finger my way. “Delvin, pitch to her.”
While Delvin threw some warm up tosses, I pulled my large batting gloves on, stretching them over my long fingers. The shin guard came loose as I walked to the plate, but I didn’t dare adjust it. Not yet anyway. I’m a switch hitter in softball but more natural from the right side. So that’s where I started when I stepped into the box. I wasn’t entirely certain I could hit a fastball from the left anyway.
Delvin dug at the rubber. I did the same at the plate. Kicked some rocks out from under my right foot. Buried my left foot in the front of the box. Right arm cocked at a ninety degree angle, my bat perched above my shoulder, I waited. A trickle of sweat ran down my cheek. This felt more like a playoff game than a practice.
My swing was graceful as I rocked the fastball over Jayden. He stretched, revealing his dark walnut skin. His long braids smacked his back as he dropped to the ground. Jayden could jump for a big guy.
“Nice,” Coach said.
The Asian boy behind the plate whistled low and said, “Sweet.”
Delvin tossed a few more pitches before Coach snapped at me to get to third. I didn’t hesitate, grabbing my glove and hustling onto the field.  
“Get in the dugout,” Coach commanded after everyone had hit.
I stood at the end of the bench, waiting for the axe to drop. I’d played well enough to warrant sticking around, but I was still lacking the mandatory testosterone. If Coach told me to go, I would. It was his team and I wasn’t about to make things worse by throwing an epic hissy.
“We got a tough schedule this year. Last year, the Rebels kicked our ass to take the district. Well, half those boys can’t play no more. Hell, we’re missing three of our own. It’s time we take our game to the next level. The Rebels need to rebuild more than we do. We can take ‘em. Now get outta here. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He glanced my way. “All of you.”
I grabbed my gear and practically bounced out of the dugout when Coach called me and Shane Anders back.
Shane was short, plump, and had a face pot-marked by zits and craters. Something told me that his dad made him play to get him out of the basement. Coach Strauss towered over him. Shane tremored a little.
“Alright. Vic, what’s your real name?”
“Vic.”
He sighed, sending a poof of peppermint my way that didn’t conceal his bad breath. It smelled like he didn’t bother to brush his teeth in the morning. Ever. “Don’t bullshit me, girl.”
“I’m not, Coach. Vic’s short for Victoria.”
He stared at me and shook his head. “Fine. Here’s the drill. We practice every day at the same time, at the same place until the first game. Ain’t hard to remember. No excuses for tardiness or missin’ a game. Miss a practice, you don’t play the next game. Bring your own equipment. Forget your glove or your cleats, you don’t play.
“Games start next week. Your jersey will be clean. If it ain’t, you ain’t playin’. We play on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays for six weeks. Team that wins their district plays in the city championship tourney. I don’t know nothin’ about either one of you, but there are a couple of boys here that could move on to college ball. Scouts look at summer programs, too, especially if they’re already interested in a player. Neither one of you is goin’ to play baseball at the next level. I just ask that you don’t screw it up for everyone else.
“Now get out of here. Today’s practice was a short one. Tomorrow’s not gonna be this easy.”
Shane took off in a hurry. It was obvious he was scared of Coach. We watched him run to a small pickup truck and scamper in.
“Can I ask you something, Vic?” Coach crossed his arms and glared at me.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Why’re you here?” He nodded toward the empty softball field. “You could be playin’ ball over there. Tell me the truth.”
I knew the question was coming, but I didn’t expect any sincerity behind it. “Softball isn’t baseball, Coach. It may seem similar, but it isn’t the same. I wanted to play ball one more time. That’s all.”
He nodded, then turned away from me and started gathering his bats.
“Am I really on the team?” I asked. I needed absolute confirmation.
“Yeah, got no choice.” He straightened up and smiled at me. “Looked at the regs. Doesn’t say this team is for boys sixteen to seventeen. Just says players. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
I smiled. Of course I did. “See you tomorrow, Coach Strauss.”
He grunted and I took off to my car, trying not to skip like a ten-year-old.
I’m in. I’m going to play ball again.

Extra Innings

Title: Extra Innings
Author: Lynn Stevens
Genre: YA Sports Romance
Cover Designer: Najla Qamber Designs
Publisher: Siren Press
Publication Date: September 18th, 2018
 
Blurb:
Victoria Hudson is a seventeen-year-old with a passion for baseball. When her grandmother buys a new house in the city, Vic discovers a way to play the game for the first time since getting kicked out of little league. She just has to move in with her hippie grandmother and make sure her father, a U.S. Senator and prospective Presidential candidate, doesn’t find out what she’s up to over the summer break.
After proving her abilities on the field, she catches the attention of Daniel Cho, the team’s catcher. Everything seems to be falling apart, and yet falling into place. Vic settles into a life she’s always wanted, that of a normal teenage girl. But Victoria Hudson is anything but normal. Once the press learns that the potential First Daughter is crossing the gender line to play baseball, Vic is thrust back into the spotlight and making headlines. The life she tries so hard to get away from simply won’t leave her alone.
 
 
Lynn Stevens flunked out of college writing her first novel. Yes, she still has it and no, you can’t read it. Surprisingly, she graduated with honors at her third school. A former farm girl turned city slicker turned suburbanite, Lynn lives in the Midwest where she drinks coffee and sips tea when she’s out of coffee. She’s the author of Full Count and Game On..

Author Links:
Pre-Order Link:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2vLNHxW
 
 
 
 
 

Five Hole

 
Title: Five Hole
Author: Ginger Sharp
Genre: Sports Romance
Cover Designer: Michael Sharp
Editor: Kathy Krick
Blurb:
He knew it was goalie interference…but she still scored.
What’s that old saying, “It’s a dirty bird [indeed] that fouls its own nest.” For Remy Stone, it is his goalie Coach Brook Pierson that he is instantly attracted to the moment she stepped into the locker room. He tries to make every excuse to dislike her, but the more grief he gives her, the deeper he falls. Rarer situations happen, but meeting your soulmate on the ice isn’t anticipated. Things can get way personal faster than you expect when you’re attracted to your coach. His persistence to win at her game could be a downright disaster and ruin their careers.
Brook battles him to follow her direction on the ice, until one day when he asks for help with sorting out his issues. She likes this kinder side of Remy than his normal brooding self. Brook knows in the back of her head that maybe this isn’t a good idea to lust after her one of her players, but they are clearly attracted to each other, and she tries to resist temptations. From the moment, they kissed, they knew it would wreak havoc on their lives.
Ginger Sharp resides in New Jersey. For many years she worked in the information technology field. She has a love for traveling to other countries. Ginger is an avid supporter of animal welfare. Her first book, “Lost Her,” made its debut in 2013 on Amazon, which is followed by many other steamy adult romance novels. For more information on the author and the Lost, Beauty, and Parker’s Legacy series, visit gingersharp.us and follow Ginger Sharp Facebook: facebook.com/GingerSharpAuthor For a listing of her current works in progress, please visit her at gingersharp.us
Author Links:
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Goal Keeper

Title: Goal Keeper
Author: Sarah Nego
Genre: NA Sports Romance
Publication Date: May 21st, 2018
Blurb:
Plan the work. Work the plan.
           
Luci Ryder is determined to make the most of her college education. Armed with a partial scholarship to play soccer at Pearson University she knows the next four years are going to be a lot of hard work. Long hours in the gym will be paired with even longer hours in the library. So when the team captain lays down a new rule: No dating the men’s soccer team, Luci couldn’t care less.
Freedom. Sweet Freedom.
Over the summer Ryan VanKamp finally realized that his long-time girlfriend was going to drive him to an early grave. So he cut her loose, along with all the connections her family could offer him after graduation. His future is up in the air, but the guys on his soccer team are ready to help him forget all about his ex.
One little rule.
Neither Luci nor Ryan are interested in settling down with a happy ever after. But as their attaction for each other moves out of bounds, they’ll have to decide if they’re willing to risk a red card for a potential big score.
Goal Keeper is a laugh-out-loud stand-alone college romance. If you like quirky heroines, alpha males, and skinny dipping, then you’ll love Sarah Nego’s New Adult sport romance debut.
Buy Goal Keeper and kick off a swoon worthy romance today!
Sarah Negovetich knows you don’t know how to pronounce her name and she’s okay with that.
Her first love is Young Adult novels, because at seventeen the world is your oyster. Only oysters are slimy and more than a little salty; it’s accurate if not exactly motivational. We should come up with a better cliché.
Sarah divides her time between writing books that her husband won’t read and performing on stage at BE Theatre. Her goal in life is to never grow up.
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Curveball Baby

CURVEBALL BABY

by J.M. Maurer

 

Genre: A Contemporary New Adult Romance (with Baseball, Baby & Christmas themes)

Most of Addison’s days start the same. She walks to work, brushes off the townsfolks’ disapproval, and fixes any-and-all local catastrophes. But there’s not a single resident in Willow Run who doesn’t know that’s all about to change.

For MLB pitching phenom Ben Peterson, returning to Willow Run is like stepping into another world. Back in town, he’s poised to do more than merely get his head on straight. For the last six months, his thoughts have been centered around one thing—the beautiful small-town girl who taught him there’s more to life than hurling a baseball.

ADDISON

I laugh, feeling my body warming under the sun, and decide it’s time to slip off a layer of clothing. Waddling back to the boxes, I toss my jacket to the top of one of the columns and hear Rusty shoot me an order.

“Hey, while you’re back there, grab a dozen thins.”

I snatch up what I can and, since the noodles are fragile, take some extra precautions. Twisting back toward the table, I immediately heat up even further, my body threatening to melt into an unrecognizable puddle of liquid Addison all over the sidewalk.

Gasping, I halt mid-stride. Stunned by what I’m seeing, I let Mrs. Tinley’s noodles and the scholarship money they’d provide slip though my sweaty palms. I can’t help it. I’m pinned in my spot, captivated once again by a slate-blue stare that’s just as sultry as it is unforgettable.

Staring ahead, I hear a crunching noise and can only assume it’s from the multiple bags of Mrs. Tinley’s noodles. I imagine they’ve spilled into quite a large mess at my feet, but I’m too shocked by his presence to give the noodles another thought. Noodles? Who cares about noodles? I’ve now got nothing on my mind but the tall, blue-eyed Adonis standing before me.

So much so, I feel my heart pound hard against my chest. My mouth goes slack. And a sudden tingling under my lip balm is driving me nuts. It’s all I can do to refrain from leaning in and reacquainting my lips with his. But I know better than to do such a thing, and instead, stay in my spot, thinking, Ben, is that really you?

I don’t dare close my eyes. If I do, I fear when opening them I’ll realize he’s merely an illusion. But he’s not a mirage. My head’s just fine and my eyes aren’t playing tricks on my heart. I open my mouth to say hello, like I always do when I meet someone, but when his sly grin slides clean off his face, I bite my lower lip and swallow back my greeting.

With his gaze cast down, he takes a long moment, appearing to stare almost unseeingly at my midsection. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even seem to be breathing.

I don’t know what he’s thinking. His expression is rather frozen. But judging by his furrowed brows, he’s most likely come to one major conclusion.

J.M. Maurer started working as a registered nurse in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit where she cared for critically ill children, transported them from outlying hospitals, and even picked up overtime hours treating patients of all ages while inside a hyperbaric chamber. She loves to write about strong characters and their struggles in life.When not writing, you can find her spending time with family and friends, exploring the outdoors, or attempting most any sport. She resides in Chicago with her husband and son. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.jmmaurer.com.

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