Sly "Bullhorn" Brodsky
#5, First & Ten
This book can be downloaded and read in iBooks on your Mac or iOS device.
Sly “Bullhorn” Brodsky wished winning the heart of Samantha Drake was as easy as protecting his quarterback. A top offensive lineman in the NFL, Bull tried to live down his rep as a womanizer. Locker room chatter had elevated him to the level of “player” in more than football. But Samantha Drake, dark-haired, stunning sister of a teammate, didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Or did she?
On his best behavior, Bull pulled out all the stops to woo the reluctant beauty. He was making progress until a woman from his past reappeared. Tiffany, the one woman who broke his heart, is in trouble. Is Bull the only man who can help?
Samantha is overcoming her doubts about Bull until Tiffany arrives. Is the blonde really in hot water or does she just want another chance with the man she discarded?
Enjoy the return of your favorite First & Ten characters in this book, too. Surprises, twists, and football action scenes will keep you turning the pages.
Snippets from the book:
He sat in the rocking chair while Samantha washed the dirt off her luscious body. Or what he assumed was luscious. Sylvester “Bullhorn” Brodsky, known to his teammates as “Bull,” had the hots for Samantha Drake, and it was keeping him up nights. While he waited for her to want him back, his imagination ran through a half dozen things he’d like to do to her under the warming spray of hot water. She was a little slip of a thing, and he was huge. Six foot three inches tall and two hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle, the offensive lineman could lift her up with one hand.
Samantha closed the front door and leaned back against it. Her pulse was racing, her face was hot, and she was a bit breathless. She had never expected the big man to be able to kiss like that. Of course, if he was a major seducer, that would make sense. But he appeared to be real sweet. He’d helped her move all day then taken her to dinner—his only reward a couple of steamy kisses. Doesn’t fit with the image of a major player.
He tasted like café au lait, and he smelled like a woodsy aftershave mixed with his own, unique scent. When her fingers had tightened around his biceps, a tingle had shot all the way through her. The man was solid steel. Except his warm skin. She had braced herself against his chest.