Playboy Pitcher

The first time I met Benson LaCroix, he sat in a bar wearing “cocky player” like a cheap cologne. The second time, he stood in a locker room in nothing but a jockstrap and a scowl. Apparently, the Miami Storm’s star pitcher isn’t too thrilled his new boss is the woman who turned him down. That makes two of us. I never asked to inherit my father’s baseball team. It’s the one thing I despised more than him. I’m just here to sell, sign on the dotted line, and get out. Until I’m hit with Dad’s final parting gift—a buyer’s...

The first time I met Benson LaCroix, he sat in a bar wearing “cocky player” like a cheap cologne. The second time, he stood in a locker room in nothing but a jockstrap and a scowl. Apparently, the Miami Storm’s star pitcher isn’t too thrilled his new boss is the woman who turned him down. That makes two of us. I never asked to inherit my father’s baseball team. It’s the one thing I despised more than him. I’m just here to sell, sign on the dotted line, and get out. Until I’m hit with Dad’s final parting gift—a buyer’s clause. Enter Satan—otherwise known as my ex. I should swallow my pride and just accept his offer. Instead, I tell him where to shove it. It can’t be that hard to turn the major league’s biggest joke into a winning team. Right? With only four weeks to do the impossible, I’ll need more than a miracle. I’ll need a secret weapon. Someone ruthless enough to marry me for my money. Like a playboy pitcher with a wicked curveball. Two quickie vows and one hostile truce later, and it’s game on. Ben and I can do this. I just have to keep my eye on his balls. I mean the ball. The prize. Oh hell. We’re in trouble.