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Playing Dirty Sports Romance Series

Playing Dirty Sports Romance Series

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Out of all the football stadiums in the world, why did Roxanne “The Ballbuster” Benson have to plow through mine?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for women playing professional football. But what I’m not for is The Ballbuster waltzing onto my field, trying to take over my position as the Wildcats’ starting kicker. The woman dislocated my knee with her freaking Jeep, for chrissake, and yet all of my teammates love her!

So what if Roxy’s…gorgeous and sweet and loves football more than anyone in the world? This is my team; and once I recover, she’s gonna have to get used to sitting her fine ass on the bench. It’s nothing personal. Football is a dirty sport where only the best survive.

Now I just have to figure out how to survive a season without ending up with a busted heart; because despite how hard I try to avoid falling for Roxy, she keeps pulling me back into her bed.

Forget her Jeep. With one look, the woman can bring me to my knees. And the worst part is, I keep going back for more.


I had the perfect life.
Getting paid millions to play the sport I love and spending most of my nights with all the adoring female fans, what more could I possibly want?
I sure as hell didn’t want the baby boy someone dropped on me before running, leaving behind a note saying he’s mine.
If that’s true, then I don’t have a freakin’ clue who his mother could be.
Until I get the paternity test results, though, the kid’s my responsibility.
The sleepless nights with a crying baby have me crashing and burning on the football field, putting my superstar career in jeopardy.
And suddenly, the only woman I want hates me with a fiery passion. I knew Callie wasn’t going to be easy to win over. Not when she blames me for her sister’s death.
Oh, and if this baby turns out to be my son, Callie’s determined to take him away from me.
Somehow I’ll have to find a way to prove to her that there’s more to me than my perfect spiral.


My mom is dying. The cancer is eating away at her body a little more each day, and the worst part is I know she’s so tired of fighting. She’s starting to surrender to the sickness.

That’s why I stupidly blurted out at Thanksgiving that I had met a woman and was engaged. The truth is, there’s no woman in my life and never has been. I just wanted to give my mother something to live for, a few celebrations, an extravagant wedding, the possibility of grandchildren…

Now I just need to find a nice girl to pretend to be my fiancée and walk down the aisle with me in a matter of weeks.

Actually, that may be a piece of cake compared to trying to stay away from the one person who has managed to ignite something deep inside of me for the first time in my life. Something I can’t ignore or forget no matter how hard I try. 


When a newly single girl like me decides to play the field, what’s better than one big, sexy, rough-and-tumble professional football player?

How about two of them?

Cameron and Nixon have been best friends for years, and now I’ve found myself in the middle of them.


The two cocky wide receivers compete over everything – who kisses me better, who can last longer, who has the biggest…well, you get the point.

At first, it’s all fun and games, until I start to fall for both of them. Hard.

But I’m just not the type of girl who sleeps with two men at the same time.

I would rather walk away from both rather than end up hurting one of them.

The problem is, I’m pretty sure that decision is out of my hands.

Main Tropes

  • Team Rivals
  • Enemies-to-Lovers
  • Forbidden Romance



To say I’m nervous would be a drastic understatement.
My best friend and my dad both offered to come with me, or more like begged, but I made them stay home since showing up with a buddy or parental escort is not exactly how the first woman signed
by a professional football team should start her career with the big boys. Besides, my dad has his own season to worry about. Although the private college he coaches is small, the team depends on him to keep up the winning streak they’ve been on for three years now. The pay isn’t all that great, so he doesn’t have the extra cash to spend on plane tickets.

Thankfully I’m about to sign a two-year, million-dollar contract, which will not only provide me with enough money to live on but will ease my dad’s financial stress. It’s the least I can do for all that he’s sacrificed for me over the years, including up and moving us to Newtown my sophomore year after what the high school team did to me in White Falls.

Accelerating forward and brushing aside the reason I refuse to ever think twice about dating another teammate, I ease closer to the
towering structure that lurks in the distance. The enormous parking lot is nearly empty since it’s the summer and only players and staff are probably milling about inside the facility. But in just a few weeks, thousands of fans will fill the stadium, and I’ll be down there on the field in the center of it

Not that I’ll ever actually get a chance to play, but this is still one small step for womankind and all that. What’s important is that I’ve made it onto the team! I’ll get to wear a jersey with my name on the
back. And maybe someday, in a few years, after the first and second-string kickers retire or get traded,
they’ll sign me as the first-string kicker, and I’ll have a shot to prove my worth. Until then, I’ll just work my ass off to become the best damn kicker ever while happily riding the bench of one of
the best football teams in the league. God, I can’t wait!


My excitement shatters right along with the glass of my front windshield when something massive lands on the hood of my Jeep. I slam my foot down on the brake to stop and try to figure out what the fuck just happened, causing the large object to bounce off the hood.

And then the realization hits me.

Oh dear God!

No, no, no!

Shoving the gearshift into park, I undo my seatbelt and throw my door open to run around the front of the fender. That’s where I find a dark-haired man plastered face down on the pavement.

“Oh shit!” I shriek. “Did I hit you?”

“No,” the man groans. “I do pushups…in the parking
lot. Motherfucker! Yes, you hit me!”

“It was an accident! I didn’t see you!” I tell him.

Jeez, he’s grumpy, but okay, I guess he’s entitled to a bit of snippiness since I just ran him over. His face is pinched with pain as he rolls to his side, holding his knee that’s awkwardly bent. Despite the less
than stellar circumstances, I can’t help but notice that he’s young and
handsome, the dark scruff along his jaw the same color as his damp, wavy, chocolate hair that’s in need of a cut. Wearing a white tank top and black athletic shorts, it’s obvious his body is long and lean with cuts of muscle up and down his powerful arms and legs, not enough fat to pinch. Although, I would
need to see all the covered bits to be sure. That seems highly unlikely at the moment since he’s muttering a string of curses, each one making me feel even worse, if that’s possible. There’s also something about him that seems

“Oh my God! Kohen?” I ask, kneeling down next to him in my jeans, both of my shaking hands covering my mouth as I get a closer look.
This cannot be him! Without my
permission, my right hand shoots out and sweeps his hair back from his forehead for a better look at his face, making him flinch. “Ah, fuck!” I groan. “You’re Kohen Hendricks!” 

No, no, no! Of all the people in the world, please tell me that I didn’t just run over Kohen fucking Hendricks, the Wildcats’
starting kicker!

“What the hell? You a crazy stalker or something?” he grits out between groans before he finally pushes himself up into a sitting
position. His palms and legs are scraped bloody and heavily dusted in dirt and tiny pieces of gravel.

Again, I lose control of my motor functions. My fingertips start swiping at the debris embedded in his knees and the thick, powerful thighs revealed just below the hem of his shorts.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he mutters, wrapping his strong hand over the top of mine and yanking it up and away from his thigh to halt my
forward progress. At the sudden, harsh contact, a gasp parts my lips, and I nearly choke on the excess oxygen when I glance up, my green eyes meeting his fiery melted chocolate and caramel swirled
ones only inches away from mine. “Whoa,” he repeats softer, deeper than the others, and holding a completely different meaning. The first utterings of the word I’m pretty sure he meant for me to stop touching him, but the last one
sounded more like…astonishment.

“You’re her, the girl from the screen.”

“I’m so…so sorry,” I stammer, not sure if he hit his head too since he’s talking nonsense. Why,
God, did I have to hit
him today of all days? I didn’t even step foot
into the stadium, and now I probably never will because no one is ever gonna believe this was an accident.
Fate is one cruel jackass.

“You drive like shit,” he says before lowering my hand that’s still in his tight grip back down to his muscular thigh. Of all places in the universe he could’ve put it, why did he choose there? He doesn’t let go.
Instead, he squeezes the top of my hand as if for comfort, right before his eyes widen like a light bulb is going off in his head. An instant later he suddenly shoves my hand away like it’s burned him while those narrowed dark eyes thin even more, glaring at me. “You conniving little bitch!”

My breath catches in my throat at the harsh insult. I’ve been called plenty of horrible things over the years; but for some reason, this man’s words are more brutal than
all the rest combined. The burning sensation behind my eyes reminds me that I’ve stupidly let my guard down.

“It was an accident,” I repeat, although I know it’s useless. He’s already decided that I intentionally ran him over and won’t be
convinced otherwise.

“You said my name! You knew exactly who I was --- your competition!”

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