Dirty Players Series by Lauren Blakely – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Dirty Players Series by Lauren Blakely – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Sat, 15 Oct 2022 22:39:11 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Dirty Players Series by Lauren Blakely – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Dirty Slide (Dirty Players #1) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.books2020.com/dirty-slide-dirty-players-1-read-online-lauren-blakely Sat, 15 Oct 2022 22:39:11 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/dirty-slide-dirty-players-1-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: Dirty Players Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)

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A grumpy/sunshine, rivals-to-lovers, sexy standalone novella from #1 NYT Bestseller Lauren Blakely and newcomer KD Casey!

Don’t play dirty.
That’s the code I live by on and off the field.
The other?
Don’t get distracted.
Not by the media, not by hookups, and definitely not by our rival team’s ridiculously charming star player, who loves to whisper dirty nothings to me every time we play ball.
And sure, his offers are tempting, but he’s the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, and I want the real thing.
So I resist.
But the night he steals second on me in the biggest game of the year, the guy’s a whole lot harder to ignore. Especially after a filthy postgame kiss leaves me wanting all the things I can’t have.
What's the risk in playing dirty just one time?

**

A Note from Lauren to Readers,

When I finished reading KD Casey's debut novel Unwritten Rules I was so impressed that I asked her to co-write a fun little scene with me between two baseball players. We'd both written baseball romances so this made perfect sense. We had such a great time with these characters that a short scene turned into a sexy, flirty, dirty standalone novella that we love. I hope you enjoy reading Dirty Slide as much as we enjoyed writing it!

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1

Chris Garnett

September

* * *

I really should stop flirting with Josh Spencer.

Truly, I should.

But, c’mon, he flirts right back just as hard.

Like at the golf tournament earlier this year. The dude stole glances at me seven times on the course. Three more at the luncheon after.

Yes, I counted.

And that was a whole lot of eye-fucking.

Which is fine by me. I don’t mind being ogled by sexy, driven men I’d like to take out on a date. Bonus that we play the same sport and get the demands of the job.

But I haven’t asked him to grab a drink yet. Asking a guy out is like waiting for your pitch. You’ve got to have patience and find just the right moment.

Maybe I’ll have the chance tonight when I step into the batter’s box in the fifth inning of a September game against our rivals.

The Union pitcher throws a fastball that paints the corner of the strike zone. A good pitch, except I put an even better swing on it and send it deep into the outfield.

And pull up on second base.

It’s a warm night. A sheen of sweat streaks his temples. His jersey sits close against his chest. Hello, hottie.

I catch my breath from hustling out a double, stripping my batting gloves off and stuffing them in my back pocket. “Busy night out here for ya, Spencer?”

“Hi, Garnett,” he sighs, comically loud.

“Nice to see you too.”

“We really need to stop meeting like this.” He pretends to be all business, but I can see the twinkle in his deep brown eyes.

“I’d agree, but I do like hitting doubles against your team,” I say since it’s my second of the night.

“Wish I could say the same,” Josh says.

“Hit a triple when you’re up next, and you can come visit me.”

“Count on that.” Josh’s lips curve into a grin, one he quickly schools.

“Aww, you’re looking forward to seeing me,” I tease.

That earns me a well-deserved eye roll. “Obviously.” Josh stares off at the mound for a beat, then gives me a quick glance as he says drily, “It’d mean I’m on third base.”

Ah, hell. I can’t resist. “Is third base your favorite?” I ask, laying it on thick in the innuendo department since that’s what I do.

In slo-mo, he turns his gaze to me once more, giving me the full effect of those gorgeous brown eyes. “No. I prefer all the way,” he says.

Well, then.

Our next hitter is up. I take a few steps off second base, readying myself, refocusing on the game in front of me and not the man.

And when my teammate sends me home on a line drive single, I figure I’ll just hunt for another chance with my cross-town rival.

It comes the next night when Josh hustles into third base, where I’m fielding.

He takes his time looking down at the bag, then up at me. “Yeah, I guess I do like third base after all,” he says, and yup, this feels like my pitch.

But seconds later, the guy’s flying toward home plate. And when the ninth inning ends, his team wins.

Despite being our rivals, I’m friendly with a couple of guys on the Union and plan to head out with them tonight. But the one I’m most interested in seeing right now is the guy who makes my pulse pound. The good luck gods shine on me as I wait at their clubhouse entrance.

The sexy second baseman for my rival team exits first, looking damn good in jeans and a charcoal gray Henley. And all that late-night stubble.

“Good game,” I say.

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Advertisement Dirty Steal (Dirty Players #2) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.books2020.com/dirty-steal-dirty-players-2-read-online-lauren-blakely Sat, 15 Oct 2022 22:39:10 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/dirty-steal-dirty-players-2-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: Dirty Players Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)

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One bed, two players, and another chance in this steamy standalone sports romance…

After how this season has gone so far — don’t ask — the last thing I need is a distraction.

Like, say, my spring training one-night stand showing up in my dugout. If it’s not annoying enough that the hot new shortstop with the heart-stopping smile has been traded to my team, the golden guy now needs a place to stay.

When one of my big-mouthed teammates suggests the new star player shack up in my spare room, I’ve got myself a helluva problem — and it’s getting bigger with my eager, interested, and too-sexy teammate sharing my kitchen, my shower…and then, late one night, my bed.

But before I know it, all these late nights together are making me want things I just can’t have with my teammate.

And if I’m not careful, he’ll be stealing my heart too…

A scorching hot, only-one-bed-in-the-room/teammates-to-lovers, second chance standalone romance…

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

Derek Miller

Here’s the thing about fundraisers: After the first flute of champagne, the first circuit of the room, they’re kinda uneventful. Worse, you’re stuck in your finest suit, in Arizona, in a bar filled with all the guys you saw a few hours ago at the ballpark, who are equally uncomfortable in their suits.

Sure, this is for a good cause. I mean, who doesn’t love rescue dogs? The Little Friends charity asked me for a testimonial beforehand to use for its marketing. Major leaguers and our beloved animals. I told them about Ultimate, our dog growing up. She was the ultimate mutt, and I used to hide under the covers with her if there was a big storm. Well, I didn’t share the second part. Doesn’t match the big league image.

An hour in, the fundraiser isn’t so bad. It’s spring training, so at least I get to admire-slash-casually ogle my teammates and rivals all stuffed into suits that probably fit their leaned-down October bodies better. Definitely worse ways to pass the time than semi-covert visual appreciation of other players while sipping mid-priced champagne. Eventually, though, that turns a little dull.

For whatever reason—maybe to get us in suits, maybe because baseball players without a structured activity tend to get into trouble—this is a casino-themed fundraiser. A bunch of my teammates from the Seattle Pilots cluster around the simulated craps table while the slightly flustered dealer tries to explain to us that no, we can’t really bet, and yes, we need to use the fake cash “Bark Bucks” that the charity provided instead.

Predictably, guys are being slightly drunken jerks. The dealer—who has thin dyed-red hair and thinning patience—tries to separate the real money from the fake, while the tip jar next to her goes conspicuously empty.

I muscle my way past a couple of my teammates—Travis, our first baseman, and Bautista, our third basemen. “Cut it out, assholes.” Because as our shortstop, I’m the captain of the infield and they should—probably—listen to me. Also? Just fucking tip.

Bautista snorts. “We’re just messing around.”

“Time and place,” I say.

Except Travis throws another twenty, clearly to be a jerk, because he’s both my best friend on the team and a jerk about half the time. What’s the difference between a clubhouse leader and a babysitter? I reach for the bill, trying to marshal it into the jar, when the fucker actually taps my hand. And look, I might have a reputation for having a quick temper on the field, but that’s on the field. I’m not going to get into it with a teammate at a casino-themed dog fundraiser.

Settle down, Derek. It’s just Bark Bucks.

“Any other rules for us, Miller?” Travis bites out.

I guess we are making a little bit of a scene. Terrific. That’s what I need as a headline. Scuffle! At the Charity Event. Because the next thing I hear is a rumbly voice saying, “I got it.”

When I look over, Adam Chason has come around to my side of the table. Just when I thought the night couldn’t get worse, the shortstop for the St. Louis Arches—and his too-perfect smile—appears.

The thing about pro ball is that everyone knows everyone else’s business. A guy who’s all wholesome commercial smile like him? Yeah, we know what that guy gets up to when the cameras stop rolling.

All the trouble in the world.

Except Chason doesn’t. He’s the guy next door. The one who sweeps up the confetti after team celebrations so the clubhouse workers don’t have to. That’s not my type.

Then again, my type is mostly: hot, available, and down to bang.

You’d think being a major league player would mean being, well, a major league player, but all the clichés about the loneliness of the road turned out to be true. At least for me.

In person, Chason is all of the above, emphasis on hot. About my height—so six feet and not lying about it like half the players in the league—with dark brown hair, a scrape of artfully maintained stubble. Among spring training-thick ballplayers, he’s particularly lean. Strong. Flexible. A word I probably shouldn’t be thinking as emphatically as I am.

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