Strike is the second
book in the Completion Series. There is no connection to Play (book I) except
the sports theme. Strike is a standalone HEA novel.
Nineteen-year-old Jaycee Shumway breaks into professional
baseball player, Reed Tyler’s home, to steal the second most valuable set of
balls he owns. Neither of them expect their striking attraction or battle of
wills to lead them to a homerun.
Jaycee has more than herself to worry about. When Reed
discovers she has a younger brother and sister, he’s quickly caught up in their
world of need and heartbreak.
Baseball season begins and the separation puts Reed and
Jaycee’s game on hold. With bases loaded and hearts on the line, will Reed
convince Jaycee that she needs him to win or will Jaycee strike out and walk
off the field forever?
This New Adult book is intended for mature
audiences.
I turned and faced him.
“Look Reed, I’m not going to be your girlfriend. I don’t need rides home or
your jackets.” I was such a liar. I didn’t ever want to give up the jacket
enveloping me in warmth and his scent. I wanted to roll in his smell coating my
body with Reed Tyler.
“I’d like you to work
for me.”
Well that made me laugh.
“Doing what, your laundry, cleaning?”
“Don’t you think it’s a
better gig than Tasty Burger?”
I’d said my last words
as a joke but god, he was serious. “I am not going to be your maid. The idea is
ridiculous.”
“Just hear me
out.”
“No.” Why did he always
bring my pride to the forefront?
“I have an apartment
over the garage. It has two bedrooms. Jon could sleep inside the main house and
you and Bitsy could have separate rooms.”
Now I understood and
pride was the last thing I felt. A slow angry buzz built in my
brain.
It made perfect sense,
baseball player, too much money, an easy lay whenever he had the need. “You
want a live in whore?”
His voice exploded in
the car, “You drive me crazy. No, I don’t want a live in whore.” He took a deep
breath and spoke one decimal softer, “Spring training starts in two weeks. I’ll
be in Florida. I have a cleaning service that comes in once a week but there’s
always something neglected when I’m gone. I need someone to oversee things, let
the pest control guy in, make sure the yard is tended by the yard crew. It’s
honest work. Your sister and brother need this. You can’t do it all and I have
the means to help you. Christ, I would just give you the money but I don’t see
you taking it. Instead you risk your life robbing me and you risk your brother
and sister’s lives too.”
His words only fueled my
anger. “You know nothing about me or my sister and brother. You live in your
mansion and think you have the right to butt into my business. Tell me this…
did you plan on keeping your hands off me? Are you providing my own room so you
can sneak in at night and get a little extra for your money? Is that part of
your overall scheme?” Reed Tyler was a creep the same as all the men my mother
brought home and that included the three that fathered me and Jon and Bitsy. I
threw open the car door and slammed it closed behind me. I ignored the
screeching tires and fought back tears. Squaring my shoulders, pushing the
internal pain aside, I knocked on the trailer door. The soft crying coming from
inside registered at the same time Jon opened the door.
“What’s wrong?” I looked
past Jon to Bitsy.
“It’s… it’s… Don Gato.”
Tears covered her scrunched up face.
My heart broke. She held
the mangy old cat in her arms.
“Oh honey, he was very
old. It was his time.”
“He’ssss not dead, he’s
sick and he won’t walk.”
Now my heart broke even
further. Jon closed the door behind me and I walked over to look at Don Gato.
He was lifeless but I could see the slight rise and fall of his chest. I didn’t
even have money to end his suffering. Life crashed in but I had to control
myself. I angrily wiped the tears from my face.
“You need to go to sleep
Bitsy. You can’t stay up holding him all night. It won’t make a difference.”
And I knew it wouldn’t. It didn’t matter how long I’d held my mother’s hand,
she died anyway. She’d left me alone to care for my sister and brother. People
died. Cats died and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about
it.
An hour later, I lay
down with Bitsy one arm under her pillow and my other hand across her body
resting on Don Gato. His small chest continued to rise and fall. I needed him
to die by morning. Bitsy didn’t need to go through this any longer. I cried
quietly so Jon couldn’t hear. I’d seen Jon’s eyes. He knew the same thing I
did.
It sucked to be
poor.
Holly S.
Roberts is the bestselling author of fourteen novels, and writes under three
pen names. A romantic at heart, she fell in love at the age of twelve with a
boy she saw across junior high school campus. Four years later, he took notice
and she never let go.Her career in law enforcement gives her a reason to want
romance, happy endings, and anything that takes her away from real life when
she reads and writes. She can shoot a mean game of pool, toss back a straight
shot of tequila, and recite the Gettysburg Address.Holly lives high in the
mountains in the southwest United States with her husband, Rottweiler and
Chihuahua.
Play (The Completion
Series)
Amazon / Barnes
& Noble / Kobo
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