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Various States of Undress: Georgia
Various States of Undress # 3
By: Laura Simcox
Releasing January 6th, 2015
Avon Impulse
Blurb
Laura Simcox concludes her fun, flirty
Various States of Undress series featuring three presidential daughters with
the tale of love at the ballgame.
Brett
Knox, star catcher of the Memphis Redbirds, a Triple-A farm team for the St.
Louis Cardinals, just got bumped back down to the minors. Brett’s main goal in
life is to get back into the big leagues-on his own terms, which means no
distractions. Certainly not in the form of a sexy brunette who won’t take no
for an answer. As far as Brett’s concerned, his life story isn’t for sale,
charity, or pity.’
Georgia Fulton, 4.0 student and daughter of the president of the United States, is certain that she’s on her way to journalistic stardom and she’s doing it without cashing in on her celebrity status-which is exactly what she wants. Nothing’s going to keep her from getting the story of her young career...until she meets Brett Knox, and quickly realizes that he’s a force to be reckoned with. He may be the focus of her assignment, but he could also seriously mess with her internship success, and more alarmingly, her heart.
Georgia Fulton, 4.0 student and daughter of the president of the United States, is certain that she’s on her way to journalistic stardom and she’s doing it without cashing in on her celebrity status-which is exactly what she wants. Nothing’s going to keep her from getting the story of her young career...until she meets Brett Knox, and quickly realizes that he’s a force to be reckoned with. He may be the focus of her assignment, but he could also seriously mess with her internship success, and more alarmingly, her heart.
This was
the moment, then—the part of today’s practice when Brett showed Georgia how to
pitch. She had to learn, since she was throwing the ceremonial first pitch on
the Fourth of July. Brett wasn’t a pitcher, but management had insisted that he
welcome her to the Redbirds with open arms, to make up for being rude enough to
turn down her interview request.
“Give yourself a minute to relax,” he told
her, “and don’t worry about learning everything at once, okay?”
“Okay.” She
pulled the ball from Brett’s mitt, and when she met his gaze, her lips parted
slightly. “I might screw this all up,” she whispered.
“Don’t
worry. I’ll keep an eye on your form,” he whispered back.
Her mouth
opened farther. “You’ll¾oh.”
She closed her eyes. “Right. You do that.” As she walked away, he saw her trace
her lower lip with her tongue. Oh God, he was in trouble.
He turned
around and walked to the plate, forcing himself not to watch as Georgia jogged
out to the pitcher’s mound because he knew his teammates would be watching him
watch her. Brett’s performance at today’s practice was probably the best
entertainment they’d had in a long time, but it was all he could do to maintain
his cool.
When he
squatted behind home plate, that cool nearly vanished, because Georgia stood on
the mound, her feet slightly apart, her arms raised as she twisted her
soft-looking hair on top of her head. Brett glanced back toward the dugout,
where the guys now all stood in a motionless line, leaning on the rail, staring
at Georgia.
Inexplicable
jealousy surged through him, tightening his throat. He swallowed it down as she
reached for her press credentials and slipped them down the front of her dress.
“Here we go,” she called out and promptly executed an awkward, slow windup,
stumbling to the side as she threw the ball. It landed on the dirt in front of
her and then rolled a few feet. “Or not,” she said.
The guys
laughed and yelled encouragement. Brett, idiot that he was, didn’t do anything
except pound his fist in his mitt and adjust his squat.
With a
smile, Georgia retrieved the ball from where it had landed nearby and held it
in both hands. She stared at Brett. He stared back. There was no windup this
time, just a loud grunt from her cute lips as she threw the ball—over the back
of her head.
Brett stood
up and jogged out to her. He tipped back his mask. “Need some help?”
She sighed,
her breasts rising and falling. He trained his eyes on her face.
“Want some
pointers?”
She
adjusted her cap and glanced away, her gaze trailing over his chest. “You asked
the same question twice, but you do realize that want and need are two
different things, right?” she muttered.
“Not in
this case.” While her head was bent, he gazed at her greedily—at the sprinkling
of freckles over her nose, the wisps of hair floating around her delicate
cheekbones. When she glanced up, she blew hair out of her eyes. “Well, no
matter whether I need it or want it, you’d better go ahead and show me.”
“Show you?”
“How to
throw the ball well enough that it crosses home plate. I’m determined not to
embarrass myself Friday night.”
“Not a
problem,” Brett said. He cleared his throat and retrieved the ball. “Okay,
watch. Plant your feet and use the momentum of your body to follow through.” He
went into an easy windup and mimicked throwing the ball.
“That’s
what I was doing,” she protested. “Didn’t I look just like that?”
No, she’d looked
like a drunk flamingo, but Brett didn’t have the heart to correct her. “You
know, it’s okay to throw it underhanded,” he said. “Lots of ceremonial pitches
are done that way.”
“Screw
that! Let me try again.”
Chuckling,
Brett handed her the ball. “All one motion. See the ball crossing the plate
before you even wind up.” He stepped back—way back—and watched her hungrily
from behind as she positioned her feet. The sun shone right through her thin
dress, and he allowed himself to ogle the shadowy curves of her thighs and
hips.
“You
watching?” she called.
“No!” Brett
paused. “I mean, yeah. Go ahead.”
With a nod,
Georgia raised one leg, lunged forward and threw.
“Your form
looked pretty good that time,” he commented.
“Really?”
She smiled at him. “Thanks.”
“Try it
again. Except this time . . .” Brett adjusted the ball in her hand and turned
her sideways. “Twist forward as you let the ball go.”
Her
shoulders shifted under his hands, and her hip pressed against his as she
planted her feet wide. “Like this?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Uh . . .
kind of.” Brett nodded. It was all he could do not to trail a hand over that
hip.
“‘Kind of’
isn’t good enough,” she said, her voice breathy. “Show me how it’s done.”
There was a
hell of a lot he’d like to show her but not with his entire team—and her Secret
Service agents—watching.
B&N:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/various-states-of-undress-laura-simcox/1118637255?ean=9780062304674
Author Info
After spending years in professional theater as a costume
designer, Laura Simcox eased out of the hectic whirlwind of opening nights and
settled in a comfy desk chair to write romance. She believes that life is too
short not to appreciate heartwarming, quirky humor and her novels are
lighthearted journeys into the happily-ever-after. She lives in North Carolina
with her true love and adorable little son.
Rafflecopter Giveaway (Digital
Bundle of the Various States of Undress Series Books 1 – 3)
Hi Melinda! Thanks for hosting me today. :) Congrats on your upcoming release. Time Out, Valentine looks SUPER cute!
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