MAN ON ….. .99 during the 2014 World Cup! Bad boy of European football, Nicolas Garza is about to hit American shores with a vengeance. Signed by the Detroit Black Jack Gentlemen as lynchpin for their expansion club, Nicco only half believes he’s making the right move.
RED CARD….. FREE during the 2014 World Cup! Free will makes us human. Choice makes us individuals. Love makes us unique. Metin Sevim has it all. At the pinnacle of international soccer playing success, he has managed to craft a perfect world for himself along the way.
SHUT OUT….. .99 during the 2014 World Cup! A submissive once, a submissive forever? A man on the run from the only life he’s ever known, Brody Vaughn is poised to accept the Black Jack Gentleman’s newly vacant goalkeeper’s position.
CAUGHT OFFSIDE…. .99 during the World Cup! Stand alone novella 1Night Stand Series Decadent Publishing Ramon Castillo, world famous soccer player and international playboy has been brought low by a career-ending injury.
All RATED R for language MAN ON A handful of fresh-faced young Americans interspersed in the group, which made Nicco feel old. Which totally pissed him off. What was Inez thinking anyway? There were two players per position in the room, two strong contenders for each spot—except his. He sipped his water bottle and glared at the Germans.
Nervous tension gnawed at his gut but he kept his face calm. Finally when their temporary coach showed up and flipped the blinds closed, he relaxed. So everyone in the room has to fight for their spot except me? That works. He dropped his feet to the floor at Rafe’s pointed glance and propped his elbows on the table prepared to ignore the forthcoming pep talk. He’d already made plans for the night and wanted to rest up beforehand. This goofy welcome pep talk would be as good a time as any. Letting his thoughts wander to the nightclub promising full discretion, he made himself stop obsessing over the failed therapy session.
The door clicked open and all eyes landed on the tall, blond man who walked in,backpack on his shoulder, dressed to play. Nicco’s scalp tingled at the sight of him—strong torso, long legs, firm jaw covered with several days’ worth of fuzz. Good Christ but he was a perfect specimen. Nicco kept his casual stance but startled when the kid’sbright blue eyes and huge white smile landed on him.He resisted the urge to smile back.
Something about the man made Nicco distinctly uncomfortable. He suddenly wished he’d held onto the shrink’s business card. “And Parker will be working with you, Nicco.” He sat up, knocking his water to the floor as Rafe’s words got his immediate attention. He stared at the polite hand the kid stuck in his face then over at Rafe.
His throat closed up between the proximity of the impossibly handsome man andrealization of the fact that the vision of masculine perfection he’d lusted after for the lastfew seconds wanted to take his spot on the field. Oh hell no. He leaned back again and ignored his inner polite self. Instead, he smirked, ignored the punk, and turned to face their coach as if suddenly fascinated by what the guy had to say.
Parker stood a minute, and Nicco watched his face turn red before he sat in the one empty chair nearest the door. Rafe passed out new phones, reminded them of their obligation to “tweet” and “post profile updates” on Facebook at least three times a day. All shit Nicco already knew.
Rafe’s hot young lady assistant issued key cards to the ones who’d just arrived,including the kid Nicco studiously ignored but whose very presence was making the front of his jeans uncomfortable.
RED CARD “It’s your hips that are the problem.” Alicia startled at the sound of his now-familiar, sing-song accent. She’d been kicking a line of balls into the net, one after the other for about fifteen minutes since she’d been early in her haste to get the hell out of her house and away from her sister’s loud disapproval. Taking a breath, she crossed her arms and studied him. Metin wore a pair of dark blue soccer shorts, plain heather-gray shirt, and cleats,
SHUT OUT “Vaughn! Goddamn it.” Brody sat, staring at his feet, ignoring the usual post-match noise and bustle around him. Most especially he hoped to hide from the voice of Rafael Inez, the club’s manager. Reminders of how poorly he’d performed today were not going to help him.