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SLOW HEAT

Slow Heat, February 2010
HEAT #2
by Jill Shalvis

Berkley Sensation
Featuring: Samantha McNead; Wade O'Riley
336 pages
ISBN: 0425233669
EAN: 9780425233665
Kindle: B0030CHFNK
Paperback / e-Book
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"The second book about the HEAT baseball team is sexy fun with heartfelt excitement."

Fresh Fiction Review

SLOW HEAT
Jill Shalvis

Reviewed by Mandy Burns
Posted February 12, 2010

Romance Contemporary

Samantha McCready is the Public Relations Rep for HEAT, the professional baseball team her family owns. She will do anything for her family and the team, so she agrees to take on the latest PR stunt personally; she is going to be the pretend girl friend of their hotshot catcher, Wade O'Riley, whose recent bad press has caught the attention of sponsors and owners. On a good day, Samantha and Wade barely get along, but in the name of baseball, she is willing to allow her hidden feelings for him to show to save face for the team. She already knows they can be powerful together; the proof of that was in their explosive encounter in an elevator after a devastating loss. She just hopes her sacrifice will be worth it.

Wade O'Riley, starting catcher for the HEAT, is easy-going, fun-loving and an all-around good guy. His good friend and teammate somehow pawned his crazy stalker on Wade and the pictures that have surfaced are causing a total PR nightmare. His employer's way of fixing his image is to saddle him with a steady girl friend for a month to prove he is off the market and still America's favorite player. Unfortunately, the uptight and shrewish Samantha McCready is hired for the job. Wade is not sure the ice queen can thaw enough to show the world they are an item. As the month progresses, outside drama impedes their overall plan, which will either bring them closer together or tear them apart forever.

The second book in the continuing story of the HEAT baseball team is sexy fun with heartfelt excitement. A very pleasurable read!

Learn more about SLOW HEAT

SUMMARY

A great catch-from the USA Today bestselling author of Double Play

Baseball player Wade O'Riley's bad-boy image is about to be cleaned up by publicist Samantha McNead. But the sexual tension between them is about to drive Wade to his knees.

EXCERPT

Chapter 1

Confucious say: โ€œBaseball wrong โ€“ man with four balls cannot walk.โ€ ~Author Unknown

Sheโ€™d read somewhere that the way to a manโ€™s heart was through his stomach, but Samantha McNead knew better than that โ€“ in certain men the stomach was aiming just a bit too high.

Wade Oโ€™Riley was one of them.

The best defensive catcher in major league baseball, he had women lining up to meet him wherever he went.

And it wasnโ€™t home-cooking that they wanted to give him either.

Not that Wade seemed to mind. Nope, even with all the constraints that went with the new big, fat, multi-million dollar contract heโ€™d just signed for Santa Barbaraโ€™s expansion team The Heat, the guy seemed oblivious to pressure. Laid-back and easy-going, he took everything as it came, with a grain of salt and a slow, knowing smile that let everyone in on the joke.

Because life was one big funny to Wade.

Sam appreciated that, she just didnโ€™t live it the way he did. Didnโ€™t know how. As the publicist for the Heat, as one of the few females in a manโ€™s world, her life tended to be more work than fun lately. Hence her mission today.

The limo pulled up in front of Wadeโ€™s big, beach cottage-style house, perched on a bluff over the ocean. From the backseat she could see the waves froth and pitch.

Much like her stomach.

In the work aspect of her life, she was extremely comfortable. That was a given. Sheโ€™d been raised by men; her father, her uncle, her brother, cousins, all tough, implacable, unforgiving alpha males. Failure had never been an option, which translated to being very good at whatever she tackled. Unfortunately for her more womanly parts, all sheโ€™d tackled lately was the job.

A job she loved with all her heart, but sometimes she yearned for more. Maybe one of these days a guy would sweep her off her feet and then into bed, but it wouldnโ€™t be today, and it wouldnโ€™t be with the guy sheโ€™d been tasked with babysitting.

The Heat had played last night. It was the first week of April, and itโ€™d been an exhibition game, a prelude to their season opener on Sunday. Theyโ€™d played the Padres, and itโ€™d turned out to be surprisingly down and dirty. Wade had hit a homer in the second inning, then been harshly walked in the third when the pitcher had hit him in the thigh with a throwaway pitch. The game had gone two extra innings, until past midnight, when the Heat had finally won on Wadeโ€™s double, so Sam expected him to be exhausted and probably sore as hell. Maybe sheโ€™d even have to pull him out of bed.

The thought brought concern, and a secret tingle to those womanly parts sheโ€™d been neglecting.

Nice to know they still worked.

As she reached for the limo door handle, Wadeโ€™s front door opened, and six feet of rugged, leanly-muscled male stepped out in Leviโ€™s and an untucked blue and white striped button down. A gust of wind molded his clothes against the body that tended to make Samโ€™s tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.

Wade stopped to slide on his sunglasses, the picture of a California surfer, all easy-going, laid-back charm.

Heโ€™d been a rock star in another life, Sam was convinced, and she purposely let out a breath and leaned back, reminding herself he was just a guy. A flawed guy at that, though certainly none of his flaws happened to be showing at the moment.

He moved across the lawn in an unhurried, sexy stride, all scruffy gorgeousness, and opened the limo door, letting in the chilly April afternoon air. With one hand on the roof, the other on the door, he bent down, peering in through his Prada sunglasses, merely arching a brow when he saw her.

Couldnโ€™t blame him. They werenโ€™t exactly on speaking terms.

His sun-kissed light brown hair was either styled messy today on purpose, or he hadnโ€™t bothered with a comb. His face sported at least a day old beard so she was going with the no comb theory. He should have looked sloppy and unkempt but nothing about him ever looked anything less than Godโ€™s gift. Sheโ€™d seen him in uniform, in designer suits, in work-out gear, in all sorts of things including absolutely nothing, and he always looked perfect.

Especially in the nothing.

โ€œHey,โ€ he said in that low, slightly raspy voice of his, the one that never failed to immediately put her back up.

And/or turn her on.

โ€œHey yourself.โ€ He hadnโ€™t limped, and he sure as hell didnโ€™t look exhausted. The opposite, she thought a little breathlessly as his deceptively lazy gaze raked her in from head to toe. Deceptively, because behind that beach bum front of his lay a sharp as hell wit.

Given their . . . tense relationship at the moment, she didnโ€™t smile.

And though he usually smiled at anything female, neither did he.

BOOK SERIES

Pacific Heat

Double Play
DOUBLE PLAY
#1.0 โ€ข July 2009
Slow Heat
SLOW HEAT
#2.0 โ€ข February 2010

 

 

 

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