The Manhattan skyline glows in the afternoon sunshine as cars, trucks, and vans pull up in the parking lot of Marauders’ stadium. Mac, Lyn, Mary, Lilly Gayle, Laverne and Debby all pile out of Mac’s van.
“What a crowd. Does anyone see Gracie?” Mary asks as she adjusts her Marauders sweater.
Lilly Gayle points. “There she is playing Washers with the twins. And aren’t they cute.”
The hostesses all wave. Laverne reaches for a table. “Let’s get the food laid out, I’m starving. The smell of those ribs is making me crazy.”
The hostesses all wave. Laverne reaches for a table. “Let’s get the food laid out, I’m starving. The smell of those ribs is making me crazy.”
Debby
pats her hair, teased and poofed to perfection. “I wonder if Tuck will
be here? I could receive that wide receiver any day.”
Lilly Gayle sighs. "They've always been the best of friends. I'm surprised they haven't ended up together."
Debby lowers her voice. "I don't care what Gracie tells us, I think she secretly has the hots for Jake."
“Hi,
everybody,” Max and Gracie say as they come to a halt in front of the
table laden with burgers and dogs, bratwurst and ribs, potato and pasta
salad, corn on the cob, and fried chicken. Gracie laughs. ”Are you girls
planning on feeding the entire Marauders football team?”
“We also have Jake’s favorite chocolate chip cookies,” Mary says as she takes a bite of one of the rich cookies. “Mmm.”
“We also have Jake’s favorite chocolate chip cookies,” Mary says as she takes a bite of one of the rich cookies. “Mmm.”
Gracie narrows her eyes. “Don’t even mention that man’s name. You know he had the nerve to kiss me.”
“It
seems I’m just in time.” They all turn to see Jake in his football
uniform grinning at them. His gaze meets Gracie’s and sparks fly.
“Uh oh. What do we do now?” Lilly Gayle whispers.
“Eat.” The hostesses reply in unison.
Welcome to our tailgate party as we introduce Mac Crowne’s new release, To Win Her Love.
Here's a sneak peek of the book trailer.
PURCHASE LINK |
To win the game, they’ll have to risk losing their hearts…
When a bizarre child custody stipulation pits popular sports blogger Gracie Gable against football superstar Jake Malone, losing the battle for her twin nieces isn't the only thing Gracie has to worry about. Forced to live for three months under the same roof as the sexy tight end, will she fall prey to his flirtatious pursuit? Or worse, will the skeletons in her closet destroy her chance for the love and family she so desperately wants?
Neglected by his parents as a boy, Jake doesn’t believe in happily ever after. Yet living with Gracie and the twins might be enough to change his mind—and his womanizing ways. But when the press unearths a scandal from Gracie’s past, will he lose the one woman he was ready to open his heart to?
EXCERPT
Like pure, walking sin, Jake Malone closed the distance in a deceptively lazy saunter. Gracie Gable fought the nearly overwhelming urge to take off running. Clenching her jaw, she lifted her chin. Without knowing her true identity, the various press publications flooding her blog’s inbox with requests for interviews had been stymied in their attempts to track her down physically. How the hell had Jake?
And oh, God, why now?
A horrified groan rumbled deep in her chest. Having no idea what was in Pete’s will, she couldn’t afford to do anything to jeopardize her guardianship of the girls—like going toe-to-toe with the Manhattan Marauders’ Outlaw Tight End right here on her brother-in-law’s front lawn. She shot a worried glance down the historic farmhouse’s long driveway, relieved to find it empty. With a little luck, Pete’s attorney would be delayed long enough for her to deal with the famous all-pro’s justified, but still overblown ego. She’d promise him anything—apologize profusely for insulting his integrity, offer him a bribe, whatever would get rid of him before Anthony Spinoza arrived.
Six foot five, with a fallen angel’s face and the body of a god, Jake continued to approach. Gravel crunched beneath the heels of his boots, marking his long-legged swagger, as his thigh muscles flexed and stretched under faded blue jeans. A worn and battered leather bomber jacket rode his yard-wide shoulders. His trademark black Stetson and snakeskin boots completed the image of the Outlaw who held his own against opposing defensive lines and cast him in countless feminine fantasies. Hers included. She’d enjoyed more than her share of secret imaginings concerning the Marauders’ number one tight end.
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