The Third Baseman (The New York Lions #1)

by Lulu Moore

The Jupiter I’d known with his dimples, winks, and toothy grins was impossible to deny. The Jupiter with the tattoos and arrogance, all man and muscle, was becoming harder to ignore. A combination of the two was deadly.

Using the tip of my bat I drew out the letter M. M for Marnie. I might not have known where she was for the past fourteen years, but writing her into the sand by the plate meant I had her with me.

I kissed her hard, desperately. There was no savoring, because I had no intention of giving this up ever again. I didn’t need to make it last. It belonged to me, had always belonged to me, and I was finally taking it back.

I’m not dead, Marn. I’m alive and kicking, and I live for loving you.