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Jami Davenport
All Romance
iBookstore
Category:
Action/Thriller
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
ISBN-10: B00FV9E12S
Pages: 46
Copyright: Oct 13, 2013
ISBN-13: 9781938876820
Price: $0.99 (eBook)
As a college football star and a waitress stave off cold loneliness through one hot holiday break, a passion begins that will carry them both all the way into the NFL.
As a college football star and a waitress stave off cold loneliness through one hot holiday break, a passion begins that will carry them both all the way into the NFL.
Striving to escape her past, reformed party girl and biker chick Aubrey Harper finds herself tending bar over Christmas break. Then her secret crush walks into the pub.
Star football player Braxton Davis has his own reasons for not going home, and when loneliness drives him to a bar near campus he finds tough-girl Aubrey mixing drinks and serving smartass comments. After one look, the two know they won't be spending their Christmas alone. After a mysterious and devastating text message and a burnt hamburger lead to dinner out, the rest of their lives look more promising as well. This relationship is going all the way to the bigs
Excerpt
Damn, but she was beautiful—in a street-smart sort of way. Thick, gorgeous reddish-brown
hair tied in a ponytail tumbled down her back in sexy disarray. I itched to loosen the band and
feel her hair slide across my body as she rode me into oblivion. Hey, I’m a young, athletic, horny
guy, and she was one hot woman. Even better, she didn’t fall at my feet and worship the turf my
cleats trod on. Instead she glared at me with disdain and suspicion. I leaned back against the ratty
booth and fingered a torn piece of vinyl, just like I wanted to be fingering her.
Her sweet face contradicted her sinner’s body. She had this flawlessly pale skin and huge,
expressive green eyes. Right now those eyes were expressing a lot, most of it not good, at least
not as far as her opinion of me.
She tapped her pencil on the Formica table, and a yellow butterfly perched on a pink flower
peeked out from beneath her shirt sleeve. I wanted to see more. A lot more. I wondered if those
tattoos went up her arm, across her chest, and down to her crotch. Had her entire body been a
canvas for a tattoo artist? Oh, yeah, I wondered. The women I’d dated might have a subtle tattoo
here or there, but nothing like what I suspected hid under those clothes.
“What can I get you?” Her voice vibrated with a husky sexuality, like she’d smoked too
many packs of cigarettes.
I pried my tongue from the roof of my mouth and attempted casual conversation. “I’ll have a
beer and a bacon cheeseburger with fries. Everything on it.”
“ID.” She held out her hand, sounding all bored and sexy and floating in attitude.
I whipped out my wallet and flipped it open. She eyed it, eyed me, eyed it again. I waited for
recognition to cross her beautiful face. You’d have to be dead or a hermit not to know my name
around this place, even if you aren’t a football fan.
Nothing. Without comment, she scribbled my order on a worn pad and sashayed toward a
table of customers who were getting ready to leave, her hips swinging and her ass beckoning me
to follow.
Not that she actually wanted me to follow her ass or her, which both intrigued me and turned
me on. Women fall at my feet, strip off their clothes and give me whatever I want in any position
I want it. But not this girl. Her disinterest challenged me, and as a competitive guy, I rarely back
down from a challenge.
I wasn’t about to start.
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