Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

M
y job is
to recruit him.
Not
have his baby…

Holden Cade is the filthiest, wildest, most hard-partying quarterback in pro football. A crude, rude, arrogant
jock,
and the only thing bigger than his ego is his-

Ugh,
at least that’s what the tabloids say.

I’d prefer to have nothing to do with a self-obsessed prick like that. But as a talent scout for my father’s football team, I’m about to have a LOT to do with him.

But I’m the best there is in this biz. I don’t take crap from inflated egos like Holden Cade, and I am
always
in control.

That is, until I hear that filthy voice right in my ear, and until I feel his hands on my skin.

Until I let go for
one night,
and it ends up being the hottest one of my life.

Technically, I’m his boss now. Technically, continuing this dirty little secret is a breach of both our contracts.

Technically, there’s no way this could get more complicated.

Well, that is, until I find out I’m carrying his baby...

Whoops.

Holden Cade thinks he can make me his.

He might be right.

F
or my husband
, as always. Thanks for coming along on this crazy adventure with me.

T
o Roxie Noir
, for keeping me sane.

T
o The Iron Angels
, for all of your feedback, love, and amazing words of encouragement. You guys are rockstars.

A
s a special thank
you for picking up this first edition of
Jock
, I’ve included
three
previous books of mine right here! Because let’s face it - are you
really
ever satisfied with just
one
book about cocky, demanding, criminally attractive quarterbacks and the dirty things they whisper across a page?

Yeah,
right
there with you.

Jock
itself is around 78k words, which means it takes up roughly the first 30% of this book. That means a full 70% of this book file is taken up by the bonus content.
Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance
,
Player: A Secret Baby Romance
, and
Thief: A Shelter Harbor Novel
immediately follow
Jock
in this book file.

Thanks so much for reading, and I do hope you enjoy the filthy, panty-melting, wicked-tongued Holden Cade.

“
H
ey girl
, you work at a sandwich shop?”

I turn and drag my eyes up the bare, muscled torso of the man standing behind me in the middle of the locker room. He’s wearing the exact smug, egotistical grin I’d expect to see on a million-dollar football player after an eye-rolling start to a line like that.

“Cause you’re-”

“Because I’m giving you a foot-long, right?”

I sigh loudly, glancing down at the front of his towel before looking back up and holding his eye.

“Aww, poor
baby
,” I coo. “Is that what you think a foot is?” I shake my head sympathetically. “I guess it’s no wonder your rushing yards were so abysmal last season.”

The smug grin drops from his face as he suddenly glares at me.

I smile right back.

“I’m looking for Holden Cade.”

He clears his throat and puffs his chest out, as if the macho move is a magical fix for my bruise to his ego.

“Called it,” he grins.

“Excuse me?”

That smug look comes back as he places one hand on the tile wall behind me and leans in close. My eyes dart quickly over the swatch of
terrible
tattoos covering his torso, lingering for a second at the cursive “Trisha” inked over his heart.

“Groupie chicks like you are always sneaking into the locker rooms like this lookin’ for the big-shot QB.” He wags his eyebrows at me. “Tryin’ to live out a little Friday Night Lights fantasy, babe?”

I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, you got me,” I say flatly, my eyes darting past the doofus in front of me to see if I can spot the man I actually came here for.

“You know, I got a better idea.” He winks at me. “What say you skip Holden, and me and you go out on an
ATE
,” he stresses the last word with a big, eager grin on his face.

“And then later, I can give you-”

“The D, right? You’re going to give me the D later?”

He frowns as I steal his thunder of a line.

“Heard that one before, tiger.”

He clears his throat again, like he’s digging deep for one last attempt at smooth talking the pants off of me.

“You know,” he grins, this time moving almost right against me.

“Us halfbacks know how to take it
deep
, baby,” the almost naked, athletically perfect man purrs into my ear.

I snort out a laugh, shaking my head.

“
Oh
, now I wouldn’t exactly go bragging about that, given your playoffs performance.”

He suddenly scowls at me as he pulls away.

“You know who the fuck I am?”

I smile sweetly.

“You’re Jackson Collins. You went All-American at U-Pitt, but some might say it was your peak since you’ve been banking that for the last seven years in the pros. You ran a
thoroughly
underwhelming last two seasons, and the talk around the campfire is that you just don’t have it anymore.”

He blinks and I keep going.

“You favor your left knee
entirely
too often, and it’s becoming both predictable and a problem. You have a tendency to undershoot conversions, and my guess is that the shoulder surgery you had three years ago is starting to bother you.”

I stop, crossing my arms across my chest and raising a brow at him.

“Oh, and I know you didn’t ask, but it’s my professional opinion that you are
wildly
overpaid. So, you know, milk that for all it’s worth before you blow that knee in a season or two and go into forced retirement.”

The cocky, self-aggrandizing smugness is
gone
from his face, replaced with a stunned look and an open mouth.

“Feel like telling me where Holden Cade is? Cause I can keep going if you want.”

Jackson scowls as he tightens the towel around his waist.

“He’s in the PT room; out back.”

“
Thanks
,” I say sweetly, tipping my hat and letting the Texas twang out that I usually keep held back.

I reach up and pat him on the cheek.

“Good luck with that shoulder, kiddo. And say hi to Trisha for me.”

“We’re divorced,” he mutters lamely.

“Shocking.”

I turn on my booted heel and walk calmly towards the physical therapy room.

“
Bitch
,” I hear him mutter, but it only makes me grin even wider.

I march past the array of other half-naked or in some cases entirely naked male athletes, tuning out the cat-calls, ignoring the, uh,
appendages
, and really just doing what I do best.

Owning
the situation.

And that’s why I’m here in the locker room of the Denver Rattlesnakes - to own it and
win
.

I’m also here to see if the rumors are true concerning one of the biggest, hottest, and most talked-about quarterbacks in recent pro football history.

Holden Cade.

Born and raised in Denver, and everyone’s favorite hometown wild-child. Recklessly cocky on and off the field, and known just as well if not more so for his hard-partying and endless stream of high-profile sexual antics than his football skills. Honestly, if he weren’t so damn
good
at what he does, he’d just be another arrogant jock shaking his tail-feathers for the camera.

Except, he
is
so damn good.

Well,
when
he is, that is. Because Holden’s endless summer is finally catching up with him.

A shitty end-of-season performance leading to the Rattlesnakes first championship loss in five years was bad enough. But after he garnered enough bad partying press during the off season to start raising some eyebrows in the Rattlesnakes’ upper management, the rumor mill has it that the hometown hero might be looking to bail.

Loose lips sink ships, as they say, and I’m here for the
kill
.

I pause outside the PT room door, removing the token cowboy hat I wear to every scouting meeting and running a hand through my auburn hair. The hat is my lucky charm of sorts when I’m on the beat like this, chasing down possible recruitment or trade leads - a little bit of Texas that I carry with me.

I take a deep breath, focusing and centering myself before I slip the hat back on, twist the knob, and step into the physical therapy room to go toe-to-toe with Holden Cade.

It’s empty.

Of course
.

I roll my eyes at myself for taking the word of a world-class tool like Jackson Collins. I start to turn to head back into the locker room when I
gasp
at the feel of warm, muscled,
bare
skin at my back.

“Hey, sugar.”

I can feel my heart skip a beat and my whole body freeze at the sound of the deep, honeyed voice I’ve only heard on interviews. The voice of the big-sky boy with the golden arm.

The cocky asshole jock I have to recruit.

Holden Cade.

The voice is like tobacco in my ear, and the hand that follows like warm heat as it traces up my bare arm.

Suddenly, the hand drops from my arm and comes swatting
firmly
across my denim-covered ass, and I gasp out loud.

“Now with an ass like that, how exactly have we not been introduced?”

I swallow the heat that comes to my face as I start to turn towards him.

“Mr. Cade-”

“Oh so you
know
me, huh?” he chuckles into my ear.

I turn and start to open my mouth, but suddenly the heat of the room and the masculine smell of him come crashing into my senses like some sort of perfect storm.

I swallow quickly as my breath catches in my throat.

He’s gorgeous. I mean I knew that, but he’s also standing there in just a towel, sweat glistening across the tattooed, hard-chiseled muscles of his chest and abs. My eyes dart to that sandy blonde hair, the chiseled chin and carved cheekbones, the perfectly formed lips, and those piercing, icy-blue eyes like a Colorado mountain stream.

Well, at least that’s the way the Colorado beer company described them in that commercial.

…They’re basically right.

“Listen, sweetheart,” he growls. “I’m all dirty right now from the gym, but what say you and me go hop in the shower and you can wash behind my ears, yeah?”

He doesn’t know who I am.

I mean, of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t know who I am or what I’m doing here, or that I’m his ticket to a new team.

He doesn’t know that I
know
he’s looking for a new team.

Hell, he probably thinks I’m some sort of football-bunny groupie like Jackson did.

He chuckles as he leans close, flashing that panty-melting grin at me as he hooks his thumbs into the already dangerously loose towel around his grooved hips.

“I’ve got this big important meeting with this really big-deal scout in a sec here, sugar.” His hand moves to my waist, sliding over my hip. “But why don’t you go warm up the water for me and I’ll join you aft-”

The door to the PT room suddenly starts to open as the sound of voices floods into the outside room. A portly man in a t-shirt and sport coat looks up at me and smiles as he steps through the door.

“Ahh, Ms. Jacobs!”

I can feel Holden freeze before suddenly and quickly dropping his hand from my waist.

I turn back to him, and I’m grinning as his eyes go wide -
staring
at me with this sort of half-shocked, half amused look on his face.

“Jacobs?”

I smile widely as I put a hand out, my eyes locking on him. The power is reversed now. Or, I want to tell myself that as I gloat at him.

Except he’s not really that embarrassed, or shy, or uncomfortable.

In fact, he almost looks
amused
.

“
You’re
LJ Jacobs?”

“London works, too,” I smile, arching a brow at his bemused expression.

The portly man in the sport coat who I now recognize as Holden Cade’s agent frowns before turning to me.

“Shall we move to an office, Ms. Jacobs?”

“Certainly.”

He nods before turning and stepping through another door.

I start to follow, but I just can’t resist turning back over my shoulder and winking at the gorgeous man in a towel still standing there looking half-confused.

“Enjoy your shower,” I say sassily under my breath. “
Better make it a cold one
.”

I flash him a smile, hoping to see him at least react to that little barb as I turn to follow his agent.

But Holden just grins.