Release Date: June 20, 2017
Baseball players break your heart. They are designed to break your heart. Especially baseball players like Jacob Baird. Just drafted, just signed, just started in the minor leagues. And he works like a horse out on the ball field, although the rumor mill says that’s not the only reason they call him Horse.
I don’t date ballplayers because 1, they break your heart, 2, my dad’s the club owner and that would be awkward, and 3, good luck trying to explain my falcon to a potential boyfriend, ballplayer or not.
But why is my falcon so jealous over this guy?
OK, so I fell for the Falcons welcome-aboard prank: let the new guy hit on the hot brunette before he finds out she’s the boss’s daughter. Off-limits? Fine, I’ve got no problem playing the field.
But why is my stallion set on playing Katie instead of the field?
Imagine yourself as a shifter alone in a world that doesn’t know shifting exists.
This is the Solo Shift world: no packs, no guidance, no mates, and no prospects until chance, luck, trust, and love all intervene.
What can you expect from a Solo Shift book? A standalone story with lonely shifters, shifters who don’t know they’re lonely, love scenes, and no cheating.
And at least one HEA, sometimes more!
Came back with my hot dog and ate it while Baird met the fans. From where I was, it looked like he was handling the attention well. Smiling, happy to be there, shaking hands, signing autographs, seemed to be the approachable type. Fit in real well with the fans. Folks in Welkerville like to see that in their players—and Baird seemed to be delivering that. That was a good sign, and I knew Dad would be happy to hear that. He also didn’t seem to be hitting on any of the women, which was also a good sign.
I let the fans have their time with him. Most of them needed to get home, and I didn’t; besides, I was still working on my hot dog.
Once the crowds cleared and my hot dog was gone, I came up to him, smile on my face, and I shook his hand and welcomed him to Welkerville.
And stopped myself from jumping his bones on the spot.
Yeah, that surprised me too. It was like The Awkward Years all over again—hormones all a-fire and everything.
Sure, he had muscles. Sure, he had that glowing smile. Sure, he was big and brawny. But so were the other guys, with the possible exception of the smile. Why were my spidey-senses tingling—no, wait, those were my lady parts. Why were they tingling?
Fortunately for me, I’ve gotten a lot better at faking normal behavior since The Awkward Years.
Also fortunately for me, he answered by lifting a line straight out of Bull Durham. At least, I think he did. The problem with that movie is that it got minor-league life so right that you’re never sure if you’re seeing an intentional Bull Durham reference or just Life As Usual in The Minors.
So I just answered back with another stock cliche while I tried to keep my tongue in my cheek, or at least in my mouth. While trying to remind myself what an Executive Assistant to the Owner was supposed to do—oh, yeah, that’s right, introduce myself.
But before I could do that, he beamed at me again—oh my God, that smile—and asked, “Are the stands always this full?”
Good. That was good. He was talking baseball and the fans. I could talk about that all day without making a fool of myself.
But then he followed up with, “Where does everyone go after the game, anyway?”
Part of me said this was a set-up to a pick-up line. Other parts of me—the tingling parts—were ecstatic. Fortunately, my Executive Assistant to the Owner side recognized this was a good time to educate Baird in Welkerville ways. “Home, mostly. Some of ‘em drive an hour or two to get here, plus most of our fans have cows to milk or feed, or jobs to go to in the morning. A few of ‘em hit the bars. A lot of folks hit the Taystee Creem downtown; they’re open late.”
I patted myself on the back. Very educational response, very responsible, very much not an open invitation to check out that place behind the stands that’s been a make-out spot for generations of young Welker County residents, get that image out of your head, Katherine Joy Casey.
IT geek—his words, not mine! Mother of two kids, two cats, and two dogs.
Incurable romantic. What do I want in my romance stories?
asses—either from experience, or by being smart enough to avoid them in the
first place! Men who survive just fine without a woman. W
fine without a man. Men and women smart enough to know the perils of jumping
into love, and brave enough to do it anyway.