Wanna Play?

Ava Archer Payne


Rated: 4.00 of 5 stars
4.00 ·
[?] · 1 ratings · Published: 07 Feb 2015

Wanna Play? by Ava Archer Payne
Dr. Gina Columbine is one of LA’s rising stars in the world of celebrity sports. A talented physical therapist and sports psychologist, she’s fought her way past locker room bravado and up the corporate ladder. But if she wants to make it to the top, she has one more job to do: Get the notoriously difficult, thrill-seeking, bad-boy pitcher, Howard Brockman, off the sidelines and back on the mound. Permanently.

No problem, she thinks. Well within her skill set. Until she gets one look at her newest client…

Attn Reader: If you’re looking for a sweet love story, rather than a spicy romance, this isn’t the book for you. When Brock and Gina collide, they generate HEAT.

Excerpt from WANNA PLAY?

He traced his fingers down her upper arms as his breath fanned her cheek. “What do you think, Gina? Wanna play?”
The naked longing in his gaze caused a shiver of anticipation to run through her. No, thank you, her brain screamed. But apparently her mouth was being controlled by an altogether different organ, for the words that passed through her lips were these: “What sort of game did you have in mind?”
His grin widened—a flash of brilliant white teeth punctuated by a pair of deep, crescent-shaped dimples. A smile that was as deliciously wicked as sin itself, and just as hard to resist. “Something simple.”
“Like what?”
He thought for a moment, then suggested, “Rock, paper, scissors. If I win, I remove one item of clothing off you. If you win, you take one thing off me.”
“Either way, you win.”
He looked surprised, then inordinately pleased. “I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I guess you’re right.”
Her pulse drummed wildly as she glanced around the gym. It was late afternoon, the facility empty of everyone but the two of them. But that didn’t mean someone wouldn’t walk in. “This… if we were discovered together… it would cost me everything. My professional reputation, my career, my job. It costs you nothing. I’m just a fling.”
“A fling?” He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “No. Flings don’t keep me up at night, torturing me with memories of the sway of their ass or the taste of their lips. I don’t spend hours recalling the scent of their skin or the sound of their voice. I don’t know what this is between us, but I know it’s not a fling. Not even close.”
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