Are you ready to meet BRODY EASTON in The Baller? We are swooning!
He is an oh-so-sexy, brooding and cocky (in more ways than one)
football player who has his sights on one reluctant reporter!
We highly recommend this Down and Dirty Football novel
from Vi Keeland and it's NOW LIVE!
He is an oh-so-sexy, brooding and cocky (in more ways than one)
football player who has his sights on one reluctant reporter!
We highly recommend this Down and Dirty Football novel
from Vi Keeland and it's NOW LIVE!
Excerpt of:
A new song had just started, and I was enjoying his company when a voice behind me said, “Can I cut in?”
My head whipped around, even though I had no doubt whom the gravelly voice belonged to.
Michael was gracious. “I hate to share. But I suppose I have been hogging the most beautiful woman at the event.” He let go of my hand and stepped back with a gentlemanly nod. “Thank you for the dance, Delilah.”
Again Brody Easton had caught me off guard. Before I knew it, I was dancing with the arrogant jerk. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body tight against his. Way tighter than Michael had held me.
“Good to see you again, Lois Lane.”
The man had balls; I had to give him that. I looked him straight in the eyes. “Nice to see you with clothes on, Easton.”
“Do you prefer me without?”
“I prefer you on the other side of the room.”
He chuckled. It was a hearty laugh. “That’s what happens sometimes when you decide you want to hang out in the men’s locker room.”
I tried to pull back, but he tightened his grip and held me in place. I craned my neck. “Let go of me.”
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s right. No.”
“I can scream at the top of my lungs.”
“I’d like to hear you scream.” His tone made it clear he meant he wanted me underneath him while I was doing the screaming.
“You’re an asshole. You know that?”
“I do. You asked me that yesterday. For a reporter, you should really try changing up your questions more frequently.”
My eyes bulged.
Easton shifted his hand down to the small of my back before twirling us around the dance floor. Figures the prick can dance.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“You can’t be serious?”
He ignored my comment. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”
“We just ate.”
“Dessert at my place, then?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you hit your head at the game yesterday?”
“On a diet, huh?”
“Yeah. That’s it. I don’t want to go to your place for dessert because I’m on a diet.”
“Well, that’s just a shame.”
My head whipped around, even though I had no doubt whom the gravelly voice belonged to.
Michael was gracious. “I hate to share. But I suppose I have been hogging the most beautiful woman at the event.” He let go of my hand and stepped back with a gentlemanly nod. “Thank you for the dance, Delilah.”
Again Brody Easton had caught me off guard. Before I knew it, I was dancing with the arrogant jerk. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body tight against his. Way tighter than Michael had held me.
“Good to see you again, Lois Lane.”
The man had balls; I had to give him that. I looked him straight in the eyes. “Nice to see you with clothes on, Easton.”
“Do you prefer me without?”
“I prefer you on the other side of the room.”
He chuckled. It was a hearty laugh. “That’s what happens sometimes when you decide you want to hang out in the men’s locker room.”
I tried to pull back, but he tightened his grip and held me in place. I craned my neck. “Let go of me.”
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s right. No.”
“I can scream at the top of my lungs.”
“I’d like to hear you scream.” His tone made it clear he meant he wanted me underneath him while I was doing the screaming.
“You’re an asshole. You know that?”
“I do. You asked me that yesterday. For a reporter, you should really try changing up your questions more frequently.”
My eyes bulged.
Easton shifted his hand down to the small of my back before twirling us around the dance floor. Figures the prick can dance.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“You can’t be serious?”
He ignored my comment. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”
“We just ate.”
“Dessert at my place, then?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you hit your head at the game yesterday?”
“On a diet, huh?”
“Yeah. That’s it. I don’t want to go to your place for dessert because I’m on a diet.”
“Well, that’s just a shame.”
More of...THE BALLER
“You ready?” Nick slung his bag over his shoulder and lifted his camera. The reporter in front of us wrapped up his interview and shook hands with Easton.
As I’ll ever be. “Sure.”
I stepped forward and extended my hand. “I’m Delilah Maddox with WMBC Sports News.”
A slow grin spread across Easton’s face. He surprised me by leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. “Pleasure to meet you.”
I wasn’t sure if he was baiting me into an argument—expecting me to lash out at him for kissing me when he’d just shaken the last male reporter’s hand—or if he was trying to use his blatant sexuality to throw me off. Either way, I wasn’t playing his game. I cleared my throat and stood straighter, even though my knees felt a little wobbly.
“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
“Why else would you be in here?”
I ignored his sarcasm. He was still smiling at me. Actually, it was more like a smirk, and it made me feel like a toy he was about to play with. “You ready, Nick?” My cameraman finished setting up the lighting, then lifted the camera into position and gave me a hand signal.
“Congratulations on the win today, Brody. How is your knee feeling after your first game back?” I lifted my microphone high, knowing Nick was filming in close.
“I feel . . . ” He nonchalantly reached to the towel wrapped around his waist and tugged at the corner. The towel fell to the ground. “Great. I feel great. And how about you? It’s your first trip into the locker room, isn’t it? Do you like what you see so far?” His lips curled up into a full-blown wicked smile.
Before I could catch myself, my eyes dropped to his naked lower half. Shit. He was dangling in the wind. I totally got distracted by just how low the thing dangled. It was probably a full minute before I responded to his question. A full minute of dead air time. Great. “Yes. Umm . . . the locker room is . . . ummm . . . nice.”
I sounded like a total ditz. On air.
The jackass continued interviewing me. “Is it as big as you thought it would be?”
“Ummm . . . it’s much bigger than I imagined.”
His smile grew even wider.
Ugh.
I needed to get back on track or my first locker room interview would become a laughingstock blooper. Viewers had no idea he was naked from the waist down. “Do you think you were at one hundred percent today?”
His eyebrows jumped. “If you’re referring to today’s game, definitely. I had one hundred percent out there on the field. There’re some other areas where I have a lot of growth potential, but my knee felt one hundred percent today.”
His pale green eyes darkened, and I watched his long lashes lower. I followed his line of sight, and suddenly I was staring at his naked package. Again. Damn it. My eyes darted back up, but I felt my cheeks heating. I had to end this, or I was going to be beet red on air.
“Well, welcome back. And congratulations on today’s win.”
I waited until Nick lowered his camera and turned off the light. Then I looked right at Brody Easton’s smug face. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
His eyes sparkled. “I do.”
I heard the chuckles and high fives at my back as I stormed out of the locker room.
As I’ll ever be. “Sure.”
I stepped forward and extended my hand. “I’m Delilah Maddox with WMBC Sports News.”
A slow grin spread across Easton’s face. He surprised me by leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. “Pleasure to meet you.”
I wasn’t sure if he was baiting me into an argument—expecting me to lash out at him for kissing me when he’d just shaken the last male reporter’s hand—or if he was trying to use his blatant sexuality to throw me off. Either way, I wasn’t playing his game. I cleared my throat and stood straighter, even though my knees felt a little wobbly.
“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
“Why else would you be in here?”
I ignored his sarcasm. He was still smiling at me. Actually, it was more like a smirk, and it made me feel like a toy he was about to play with. “You ready, Nick?” My cameraman finished setting up the lighting, then lifted the camera into position and gave me a hand signal.
“Congratulations on the win today, Brody. How is your knee feeling after your first game back?” I lifted my microphone high, knowing Nick was filming in close.
“I feel . . . ” He nonchalantly reached to the towel wrapped around his waist and tugged at the corner. The towel fell to the ground. “Great. I feel great. And how about you? It’s your first trip into the locker room, isn’t it? Do you like what you see so far?” His lips curled up into a full-blown wicked smile.
Before I could catch myself, my eyes dropped to his naked lower half. Shit. He was dangling in the wind. I totally got distracted by just how low the thing dangled. It was probably a full minute before I responded to his question. A full minute of dead air time. Great. “Yes. Umm . . . the locker room is . . . ummm . . . nice.”
I sounded like a total ditz. On air.
The jackass continued interviewing me. “Is it as big as you thought it would be?”
“Ummm . . . it’s much bigger than I imagined.”
His smile grew even wider.
Ugh.
I needed to get back on track or my first locker room interview would become a laughingstock blooper. Viewers had no idea he was naked from the waist down. “Do you think you were at one hundred percent today?”
His eyebrows jumped. “If you’re referring to today’s game, definitely. I had one hundred percent out there on the field. There’re some other areas where I have a lot of growth potential, but my knee felt one hundred percent today.”
His pale green eyes darkened, and I watched his long lashes lower. I followed his line of sight, and suddenly I was staring at his naked package. Again. Damn it. My eyes darted back up, but I felt my cheeks heating. I had to end this, or I was going to be beet red on air.
“Well, welcome back. And congratulations on today’s win.”
I waited until Nick lowered his camera and turned off the light. Then I looked right at Brody Easton’s smug face. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
His eyes sparkled. “I do.”
I heard the chuckles and high fives at my back as I stormed out of the locker room.
Book Summary & Purchase link
The first time I met Brody Easton was in the men’s locker room.
It was my first interview as a professional sportscaster.
The famed quarterback decided to bare all.
And by all, I don’t mean he told me any of his secrets.
No. The arrogant ass decided to drop his towel, just as I asked the first question. On camera.
The Super Bowl MVP quickly adopted a new hobby—screwing with me.
When I pushed back, he shifted from wanting to screw with me, to wanting to screw me.
But I don’t date players.
And it’s not because I’m one of the few women working in the world of professional football.
I’d date an athlete.
It’s the other kind of player I don’t date.
You know the type. Good looking, strong, cocky, always looking to get laid.
Brody Easton was the ultimate player.
Every woman wanted to be the one to change him.
But the truth was, all he needed was a girl worth changing for.
Turned out, I was that girl.
Simple right?
Let’s face it. It never is.
There’s a story between once upon a time and happily ever after…
And this one is ours.
It was my first interview as a professional sportscaster.
The famed quarterback decided to bare all.
And by all, I don’t mean he told me any of his secrets.
No. The arrogant ass decided to drop his towel, just as I asked the first question. On camera.
The Super Bowl MVP quickly adopted a new hobby—screwing with me.
When I pushed back, he shifted from wanting to screw with me, to wanting to screw me.
But I don’t date players.
And it’s not because I’m one of the few women working in the world of professional football.
I’d date an athlete.
It’s the other kind of player I don’t date.
You know the type. Good looking, strong, cocky, always looking to get laid.
Brody Easton was the ultimate player.
Every woman wanted to be the one to change him.
But the truth was, all he needed was a girl worth changing for.
Turned out, I was that girl.
Simple right?
Let’s face it. It never is.
There’s a story between once upon a time and happily ever after…
And this one is ours.
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Meet Vi Keeland
Vi Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children that occupy most of her free time, which she complains about often, but wouldn't change for the world. She is a bookworm and has been known to read her kindle at stop lights, while styling her hair, cleaning, walking, during sporting events, and frequently while pretending to work. She is a boring attorney by day, and an exciting smut author by night!
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