Backfield in Motion
Read Backfield in Motion Online
Authors: Boroughs Publishing Group
Tags: #romance, #sports, #football, #contemporary romance, #sports romance, #seattle lumberjacks, #boroughs publishing group, #jami davenport, #backfield in motion, #seattle football team
Jami Davenport
Copyright 2013 Pamela D. Bowerman
Smashwords Edition
IS A PRETTY FACE
Star running back Bruce “Bruiser” Mackey has
heard those words his entire life, especially after his twin
brother’s tragic accident. He might use his surfer-boy good looks
to land lucrative endorsements for his secret charity, but he hates
books being judged by their covers. Which is why it’s wrong that
his friend Mackenzie Hernandez is intent on giving herself a
makeover.
Sure, Mac and her father have been reeling
financially since her brother disappeared three years ago, and
Lumberjacks management gives an annual scholarship that might get
her life back on track, but he can’t imagine anyone smarter,
sexier, or more beautiful than Mac already is. He can’t keep his
hands off her—and the more they spend time together, the less he
wants to. She’s perfect as is. One way or another, he’ll make sure
the team’s tomboy groundskeeper gets a full ride. And between the
two of them, they can learn to accept what’s behind them and look
downfield to a future full of win.
Backfield in Motion
www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of
the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons,
living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not
have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author
or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.
BACKFIELD IN MOTION
Copyright © 2013 Pamela D. Bowerman
All rights reserved. Unless specifically
noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned,
stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or
otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express
written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning,
uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any
other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is
illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of
copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.
Digital edition created by Maureen
Cutajar
www.gopublished.com
ISBN 978-1-938876-80-6
A big thank-you to Adrianne Lee, pie-baking queen,
author-extraordinaire, Seahawks fan and Wilson defender. Even more
importantly, a friend who is always there when I need her, even
when she’s in deadline hell.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A big heartfelt thank-you to my noontime
walking buddies, also fabulous authors:
Margaret Mallory, my partner-in-crime and
fellow commiserator (is that a word?) for all things Amazon.
Anthea Lawson, for her steadfast practical
advice on writing, publishing, and life in general.
Theresa Scott, for her infinite wisdom, her
sense of fairness, and awesome listening skills.
Chapter 1 Pretty is as Pretty Does?
Chapter 5 You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet
Chapter 17 Coaching Strategies
Chapter 1
“Yeah, yeah, Bruiser, all you’ll ever be is
just another pretty face.”
“Never criticize the face that feeds you,”
Bruce Mackey, a.k.a. Bruiser, shot back as he gritted his
teeth.
Nothing but a pretty face? Hell. That wasn’t
the type of thing a person tells a 230-pound premier running back
for the Seattle Lumberjacks. Not that Bruiser hadn’t worked his ass
off to craft that very superficial image—then worked that much
harder on the football field to show the world and the NFL that he
was a football player first and pretty face second.
Football was his job and his passion. On a
normal day, it took two linebackers and handful of defensive backs
to bring him to his knees as he fought like a wild man for a few
extra yards, hence the odd nickname Bruiser.
Playing the role of a pretty boy usually
suited him just fine. Other than being one tough hombre on the
football field, no one expected anything serious or profound from
the league’s “Hottest Hunk,” which kept even the nosiest of
reporters from diving deep enough to unearth the painful truth
lurking behind his carefree mask. That was just fine with Bruiser.
He let his play on the field speak for itself. The rest was no
one’s business but his.
Harold, the photographer, winked at him.
“Hey, I’m not criticizing. That pretty face is certifiable money in
the bank.”
Bruiser didn’t wink back.
Click. Click. Click.
He didn’t move, just held his pose and
stared over the head of the photographer at nothing.
“Look straight into the camera. Pretend I’m
a beautiful woman across the room at a party. I’m beckoning
you.”
“You? I don’t have that good of an
imagination. No one does.” Bruiser resisted the urge to roll his
eyes. He really hated this stuff, but money was money. He had a
debt to pay and an even bigger promise to keep.
“Relax. You’re too stiff.”
Stiff? Hell, his dick had shriveled to
nothing on this unseasonably chilly forty-five-degree morning. It
wasn’t like he was acclimated to anything below sixty degrees after
spending the last several months in Southern Cal, having traded the
Seattle rainy season for warm sand, mega endorsement deals, movie
cameos, and bikini-clad women. He’d only returned to the Emerald
City a few short days ago.
“I’m freezing my ass off. Hurry up, will
ya?”
“You’re in a snit today.” Harold sniffed as
if Bruiser had hurt his feelings. Well, fuck, Harold wasn’t the one
standing around in a frigid horse barn wearing nothing but
SportsJock underwear, a Stetson, and a pair of Tony Lamas. Harold’s
assistant flitted around like a pesky fly, messing with Bruiser’s
perfectly styled blond hair. He fought like hell not to bite the
poor little guy’s head off just for sport.
“Okay, tease us a little. Hook your thumb in
the waistband and pull it down just so it stops short of your
junk.”
Bruiser knew the drill. He almost made more
from modeling than he did football. Plus, he didn’t have a modest
bone in his body. If they’d asked him to strip, he’d have stripped
and given them the full-meal deal. But the league frowned on
all-out nudity, so Bruiser’s nude modeling had to be tastefully
done with the goods disguised in dark shadows.
Bruiser changed his pose, propping one foot
on the hay bale.
“Turn slightly. Put your back to me. Good.
Good.”
Click. Click. Click.
“Now strip off your shorts, hold them with a
finger, and cover your package with your hat.”
“How does that sell underwear?” Despite
Bruiser’s immodesty, getting nude fucking irritated him today.
“Do I look like a marketing person? Just
another pose they asked for.”
Bruiser shrugged and shucked out of his
briefs—not easy when wearing boots—and dangled them on one finger
as he held his hat over his crotch area. Harold clicked away while
Bruiser changed poses and forced himself to stay alert.
“I expected your dick to be so big you’d
need a sombrero to cover it.”
Bruiser dropped the hat and spun around to
face the speaker. Mackenzie Hernandez, known as Mac to all the guys
on the team, stood in the barn door. Small and fit, with a nice
little body, Mac was kinda cute with her upturned nose, mischievous
deep brown eyes, and long, wavy, dirty blond hair, but she
downplayed her physical attributes as if she didn’t give a shit
about appearances.
Mac made a show of looking at his crotch and
arching an eyebrow, not the least bit embarrassed. But then, not
much embarrassed Mac.
Caught off-balance, Bruiser stared down at
his dick. A sombrero? Of course it was big enough to need a
sombrero. What the hell was she talking about? Even shriveled in
the cold, damp Seattle morning, he didn’t think it looked that
small.
Did it?
He bent down to pick up his Stetson, not
bothering to cover himself, and tamped down his annoyance while
ramping up the charm.
Little dick, my ass.
“Now, honey, that cuts me to the quick.” He
held his Stetson over his heart and let out an exaggerated
sigh.
“I sincerely doubt that. Your skin is as
thick as your head is large.”
“Ah, so you admit it. I am big. I knew you
were just jerking my chain. I like that in a woman.” A slow smile
spread across Bruiser’s face. She’d walked into that one.
Mac’s mouth pulled into a firm, straight
line, and her eyes glinted with what looked to Bruiser like
murderous intent.
“You creeping up on me, honey? Just had to
get a sneak peek? Don’t blame you; all the ladies feel that way.”
Bruiser grinned. She deserved a little shit after the sombrero
comment.
Bruiser was a flirt and tease, two of his
many talents, and he didn’t discriminate. All women were fair game,
regardless of age, race, or religion. And Mac was one of his
favorite targets because she didn’t know the first thing about
flirting. He loved to tease her, try to get beneath her tough-girl
exterior. Today he’d hit pay dirt. Flustered yet clearly annoyed,
Mac backed away. “I’m not stalking you. I promised Derek and Rachel
I’d feed their horses while they’re out of town.”
His teammate, Derek Ramsey, and his wife,
Rachel, owned the horse farm.
“Ma’am, you’ll need to leave until we’re
done shooting,” Harold said. He sniffed, his boxers all in a bunch
over the interruption.
Well, damn
. Bruiser was just starting
to feel entertained.
“Mac won’t bother me. She’s almost like one
of the guys—with boobs.” Bruiser looked her up and down. “Nice
boobs, though, hon.” He waggled his eyebrows. “We’ll catch up
later. Once you recover from the sight of my incredible body.”
“Overconfident ass,” Mac shot back.
“Absolutely, sweetheart. You like me that
way.” He winked at her, and she glared back. He was winning points
today.
“I don’t like you any way but on the
football field.”
Bruiser opened his mouth to fire off an
answering round when Harold interrupted him. “Hey, Bruiser, let’s
finish this.”
