eBook Details

Strike Out

Series: Mustangs Baseball , Book 6.0
By: Roz Lee | Other books by Roz Lee
Published By: Roz Lee
Published: Oct 13, 2014
ISBN # 9780991168767
Word Count: 68,000
Heat Index     
Eligible Price: $5.99 Sale price $0.99

Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Palm DOC/iSolo, Epub, Mobipocket (.mobi)
Click here for the print version

Categories: Romance>BDSM Romance>Contemporary Romance>Erotic Romance

Description

Strike Out (Mustangs Baseball) by Roz Lee - Romance>BDSM eBook

1st Place - Erotic Novel category - International Digital Awards
Royce “Strikeout” Stryker needs to get his game back before he’s out of the game altogether. From the moment he sees Dr. Tricia Reed, keeping his hands to himself becomes a problem, especially since part of the reason he’s been designated as a guinea pig for her research project is to gather information that might be used to shut her down. A computer program that could change baseball forever might be the ticket to his comeback—or could it be the sexy scientist running the project who holds the key to his future?
Tricia has staked everything she has—her money, her reputation and her future—on a computer program that, if proven, could change the lives of millions suffering from catastrophic injuries. Falling for the sexy pitcher she’s trying to help can only lead to disaster for both of them, but keeping a professional distance from Royce Stryker proves to be impossible. Could one indiscretion hold the answer to his problems and be the ruin of them both?
 
Reader Rating:   0.0 Not rated (0 Ratings)
Sensuality Rating:   Not rated
Excerpt:
Royce gazed down at the sparkling emerald and rust diamond he considered home. Devoid of players at this hour, the smell of sweet-mown grass and the silence of thousands of empty seats called to him. He closed his eyes, imagining lying in the center of the outfield, arms outstretched, and the peace he would find there. Inhaling deep, he held the stale, chilled office air in his lungs for a moment before exhaling.
Turning to the Mustangs’ manager, he asked, “Why me?”
Doyle Walker raised one eyebrow. “Why not you?”
“Everyone else said no, right?”
“They all have their reasons, but trumped-up excuses aside, you make the most sense. I have no idea if this technology has any value or not, but if there is any possibility it can help you regain ground, then we have to give it a try.”
“You mean I have to give it a try.”
The older man acknowledged the truth in Royce’s statement with a slight nod. “Yes, you have to give it a try. Conventional means aren’t working for you, and since I can’t make you see a shrink, this is my next best option.”
He didn’t need a shrink to tell him his lack-luster performance on the field was all in his head. Other players had played through divorce without a ripple in their career. But not him. Intellectually, he understood his marriage had been over for a long time before Hannah asked for a divorce, but still, the hurt in her eyes, in her voice, when she uttered those words had turned him inside out.
Failure was new to him. Always the golden boy, he’d succeeded at everything he’d ever tried—except making Hannah happy. Since he first laid eyes on her in junior high school, all he’d wanted to do was make her smile. Knowing he’d failed at such an important task had changed him. He’d lost his mojo. He was off his game, physically.
He gave his all on the field, but suddenly, his all sucked. Doyle was right. He had to do something, or his career would be over sooner rather than later.
Returning his gaze to the field some five stories below, he knew he had no choice. He was going to become a guinea pig in the name of science.
“When?”
“Dr. Wright will be here this afternoon. Two o’clock. Martin’s old office.”
“How long?”
“We agreed on a month with the stipulation you would be available the entire time, however many hours it takes.”
He felt the heavy weight of obligation on his shoulders, turning his blood to slow-moving sludge. “A whole freakin’ month?”
“You’ve got something else to do?” Doyle’s statement was laden with sarcasm. Royce’s time belonged to the Mustangs, and they both knew it.
“No. A month just sounds like a long time to spend on one research subject.” Like he knew jack-shit about scientific research.
“If things go well, Dr. Wright may add players. But the first two weeks, at least, it’s only you.”
“Great.” He could do sarcasm, too. With one last look at the field, Royce turned his back on the expansive plate-glass window. His gaze swept the office. He’d never wanted a regular job, one that included a desk in an office, but as offices went, Doyle’s was the best he’d ever seen. Years of memorabilia from his playing years, along with awards and photos from his stint as the Mustangs’ manager lined the walls. Royce admired the wide bookcase to the right of the manager’s desk. He imagined how it would look in the library of his new house. Mentally noting to search for something similar, he crossed the room for a closer look.
“Don’t you want to know about the research?”
“Nope.” The edict had come down from the mountain, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to change it. “What’s with the bat?” He’d noticed it before but never had the opportunity to examine it. On a stand, encased in glass, it was unmistakably old. He edged closer, trying to make out the signature on the barrel.
“It was my granddad’s.” Doyle joined him in front of the artifact. “He used it during the 1936 season.”
He felt like an idiot. Why hadn’t he put two and two together before? “Your grandfather was Jimmy Doyle Walker? I thought you were just named after him or something.”
“I was named after him. I’ve always gone by Doyle though.”
“He was a great player.”
“He was.” Hearing the reverence in his voice, Royce turned to see him gazing at the keepsake. “I keep it here to remind me that everyone deserves a second chance. Even you.”
He swallowed hard. “I appreciate it. I really do.”
Doyle clapped him on the back. “Look, Royce. There’s another reason I chose you to head up this research project.” With a sweep of his hand, the manager indicated a casual grouping of chairs across the room. Royce took a seat and waited for the other shoe to fall.
“I want you to be my ears and eyes on this project. It sounds good on the surface, but in the wrong hands….” He shook his head. “I’ve been in this game my entire life. I know everything there is to know about baseball, and one thing I’m absolutely sure of is the most important factor in winning and losing is the human factor. No amount of empirical data can account for what’s going on in a person’s head.”
Doyle leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, his hands clasp together in front of him. “The game is dynamic, changing with the times. We’ve got instant replay now. Cameras everywhere, recording every possible angle. Economists analyzing players, valuing them based on individual plays instead of the person as a whole and what he brings to the team. You can’t quantify team spirit, and sometimes heart is more valuable than the ability to hit consistently or strike batters out.”
Royce’s heart thudded. “I’ll get back in the game. I promise.”
Doyle sat up, relaxed. “I know you will. You love the game, and it shows. Whatever is wrong, you’ll fix it. I’ve never had any doubt about that, son. As I said, if there’s any merit in this research, then take advantage of it. But I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.” He meant it. Everyone on the team knew how lucky they were to play for Doyle Walker, him included. He’d do whatever the man asked.
“Keep a close watch on this research project. Find out everything you can about the kind of data being collected and how this Dr. Wright plans to use it. The order to participate in this project came down from the League offices. I couldn’t say no, but my acceptance doesn’t mean I’m one hundred percent onboard with it. Maybe I’m old school, but I don’t think everything has to be computer analyzed. Some things should be left alone.”

Strike Out

By: Roz Lee
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