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Michele Shriver is a National and International best-selling author of women's fiction and contemporary romance. Her books feature flawed-but-likable characters in real life settings. She's not afraid to break the rules, but never stops believing in happily ever after.
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Excerpt from STRIKE ZONE
“They call him
‘The Killer.’”
Lorna blinked
at Reece. “Excuse me?”
Reece’s face
held an amused grin. “It’s his nickname. Killian ‘The Killer’ Moss.”
“And that’s a
good thing?” Lorna didn’t quite get it, but then again, she didn’t get
baseball, either.
Reece laughed,
tiny lines forming around his green eyes. “I guess that depends on your
perspective. If you’re a fan of the Riverhawks, then yes, it’s a very good
thing that your star pitcher has earned such a nefarious nickname. For the
opposing teams’ batters, not so much.”
“So, he earned
the nickname because he strikes out batters?” Lorna surmised.
“Yes,” Reece
said. “What’d you think? That he actually killed people or something?”
Before Lorna
could answer, six-year-old Sierra tugged at the bottom of her shirt. “Mom? What
does nefarious mean?”
“Bad, like evil
or criminal,” she answered.
“Oh. But he’s
not really a criminal, right, Uncle Reece?”
“Right. He’s a
good guy. One of the best pitchers in the league,” Reece said. “Plus, he does a
lot of work for local charities, and he loves kids.”
The way Reece
talked about this guy, he might as well be president of the pitcher’s fan club.
“And that’s why you wanted Sierra along?” Lorna would have picked a different
way to spend a hot June afternoon than outside, watching a baseball game, but
once Reece mentioned the game, Sierra wanted to go.
“Yes,” Reece
said. “I’m not proud. I need an autographed ball from Moss to add to my
collection, and I figured the best way to get one is to use a cute kid to get
it. He always signs stuff for the kids.” He gave a shrug. “Since I don’t have
one of my own, I’m borrowing yours.”
“Fair enough.”
It was difficult to argue with Reece’s logic, or find fault with an athlete who
was always generous with young fans. Okay, so Sierra wasn’t technically a fan,
at least not yet. Lorna had a hunch her daughter would be by the end of what
would be her first baseball game. Would her mother? That might be the harder
sell. Still, she vowed to keep an open mind and try to enjoy herself.
The large crowd
that had gathered outside the stadium suddenly erupted in loud shrieks, which
could only mean one thing—the players were arriving.
Reece confirmed
it when he passed Sierra a baseball.
“Okay, he’ll be the first one walking in.
Remember what I told you?”
She nodded.
“Yep. Get it signed to you. I’m not dumb.”
Lorna stifled a
laugh at her precocious daughter’s comment. She was her mother’s daughter, all
right. And thankfully, thus far she exhibited few, if any, traits inherited
from the asshole who sired her.
“Great. Thanks,
kiddo,” Reece said. “I owe you a hot fudge sundae for this.”
Lorna watched
as her daughter scurried forward, in a throng of other kids, to try to meet the
Riverhawks star.
“Does your fiancé know how much you’re crushing on this guy?”
she teased.
“Yeah, he does,
and he doesn’t mind,” Reece said. “Besides, Court has his own celebrity crush.”
“Oh, really?”
Lorna raised an eyebrow. “Wh—” She couldn’t get the word out, because the sight
of the man approaching rendered her momentarily speechless.
He was tall,
with light brown hair and few days’ growth of beard, and he wore black dress
pants paired with a blue shirt that fit him so snugly she could make out the
definition of his muscles underneath it.
And speaking of making out... Lorna tried to stop her mind from heading
straight into the nearest gutter, but it wasn’t easy. It’d been too long since
she’d had a man in her bed. Way too long.
“That’s him?”
she asked Reece when she found her voice again.
“Yes, that’s
him. Killian Moss.”
Where has he been hiding all my life? “I just became a baseball fan.”
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