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About the author:
I am a lover of romantic moments, for as long as I can remember. I gush at romantic movies and sigh when a love song plays. I strive to keep romance in my life. I spend every spare moment of my time with my four legged babies and writing, my two great passions.
What inspired you to write your book?
In my life baseball is a family tradition, and what I can't ignore is how the hot players fill out those sexy baseball pants. My inspiration for this book is Cy, a girl after my own heart who loves the game. Watching hours of the game sparked the complicated love affair for my girl. I could not stop there, she deserved the very best and she finds it with the wake up in his hot arms forever kind of love.
Here is a short sample from the book:
I felt it the minute the dark-haired stranger walked into my bar, with his big city attitude; not a bit surprised when he went into an immediate tirade about the temperature. I can never understand people who come to New Orleans and have some misguided idea that the weather is anything but heat and humidity. Hell yes, it's sticky, but our city is full of heritage and culture. We have the best music, the best festivals and off-the-charts amazing food, each restaurant is an invitation into a tiny bit of heaven for your taste buds.
Now, I listen from the kitchen while the man with the smart mouth and bedroom eyes drools over my oyster Po’boy. For the life of me what possessed me to give him the last of the oysters, I fried up right before he strolled in here. I had planned to close the bar and sit my happy-ass on the back patio, enjoying some music and eat my sandwich.
"Geez, I am an f-ing idiot." I grab myself a cold brew from the aging walk-in cooler. "At least it still works." Bringing my fingers to my lips. I touch the picture of my late grandfather.
Grandpa Jack was my everything, raising me since I was eight, leaving me his bar to run with Uncle Harold six months before. The past few years had been rough with rising costs, taxes alone had me considering selling the building. And that was before facing the fact that every piece of equipment in the bar was much older than my twenty-five years.
I push all thoughts of the business aside, knowing all too well there isn't anything I can do at this moment. Uncle Harold and I are fifty-fifty partners and until he returns from out-of-town, ready to sit down and face facts I am in between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
I ignore my problems for another day, my latest plan for life; instead, I turn all-of-my focus on the dark-haired stranger moaning over my lunch. His dark eyes reminding me of an expensive bottle of cognac I save for special occasions, that or the maybe even better the dark chocolate candies I hide in the drawer next to my bed.
It was pure lust at first sight; if I had not already been in such a bad mood, I most likely would have put in a little effort into flirting. I did everything I could to get him to leave all the while my girlie parts were sitting up and screaming. Don't send him away; check out his package. You need him.
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