Monster Baller: A Single Dad Sports Romance (Bitsberg Knights Duet Book 1)

by KB Winters

  It was second down and five on our forty-seven-yard line. They only needed about ten more yards for a long field goal attempt. With precious seconds ticking away, the Stormers lined up on the ball. They ran another quick out route that picked up seven yards—but their receiver was once again unable to get out of bounds.

  The crowd was up on their feet—it all came down to this one play. The Stormers decided to save their last timeout to bring in the field goal unit and take one more shot at picking up a few yards. With ten seconds left on the clock, they snapped the ball, I saw their running back on a slant route across the middle, and I broke on it. As the pass left the quarterback’s hand, I knew it was mine. I cut right in front of their receiver and intercepted the pass.

  My fingers dug in like talons, and I kept my grip. I looked up and saw nothing but green between me and the end zone sixty yards away. I took off on a sprint like a fuckin’ cheetah and crossed the goal line just as the clock ran out.

  The crowd went insane, the roar deafening over the field. I raised my fist in triumph and gave my Monster pose for all the world to see.

  The Knights were going to the playoffs, bitches!

  The team piled on me and Billy Ray like a pack of groupies on a couple of rock stars outside their party bus.

  With the confetti still falling down onto the field, the media pounced. I spoke with the reporters who approached me, all waving their microphones in my face. After the first battery of interviews, a woman in a business suit came over to introduce a pack of children that were being recognized for winning a local charity drive. The second-grade class had raised the most money of all the participants and won the one-on-one VIP treatment.

  The players who had wrapped their interviews were greeting the families and the boys and girls who won the contest. There were high fives, fist bumps, and lots of wild chatter as the kids raced around, clearly over-excited about being on the field among the rain of confetti that was now mostly from the wind blowing around the stuff dumped out at the end of the fourth quarter.

  As I spoke with the charity spokeswoman, a small boy raced over to me, holding up a brand new t-shirt and a black permanent marker. I took the pen and the shirt. “What’s your name, bud?”

  “Winston,” he answered in a squeaky voice.

  “Winston. All right,” I scrawled a note to him and signed my name on the bottom of the shirt. I squatted down beside him as I handed it back. “Bud, you think you can do me a favor?”

  He nodded vigorously. I glanced up at the woman with him—his mother—and she smiled. “All right, do you see that woman over there, in the front row?” I stopped and pointed at Lacey. She wasn’t looking my way. She was bent over, listening closely to something Aria was telling her. They laughed together and sparks went through me at her easy smile. God, I loved that smile. “I need you to take something to her. Can you do that?”

  “Sure!”

  “Great. Mind if I borrow this?” I asked, holding up the pen he’d brought me.

  He shook his head. I reached under the bench and grabbed a football. While Winston and his mother watched, I scrawled a message across the ball’s rough surface in big black letters:

  MARRY ME

  Winston’s mother smiled wider as I pressed the ball into the boy's outstretched arms. “All right, Winston. I’m counting on you, buddy.”

  The boy glanced up at his mother and she gave him a nod. “Be careful. Don’t get in anyone’s way.”

  He nodded and then bolted across the field, booking it to the stairs that would take him up into the stands. I watched his mop of hair flapping in the air as he bobbed along the front row, careful to weave in and out of traffic. He skidded to a stop before Lacey and handed her the ball.

  Lacey took the ball, a look of surprise flickering over her pretty face. When she read the ball’s message, a hand flew to her mouth. Aria yanked the ball from her, eager to see what it was all about, and she let out a cheer that got swallowed up in the noise and chaos of the field.

  Lacey’s eyes darted up and locked with mine. She nodded frantically, and I broke into a run across the field. She flew over the barrier and crashed into me at the same time I reached the stands. She landed on me and we both tumbled to the ground, clinging to one another and laughing our damn heads off.

  A loud voice boomed through the stadium, “It looks like the Beaumonster just got sacked!” Then, after a pause, with the crowd going wild, he added, “Someone hurry, sign that girl up! She’s got the moves!”

  Lacey laughed into my chest, and I gripped her as tightly as I could without crushing her. “Is that a yes?” I asked, raising my voice above the roar of the stadium.

  “Of course! Chance, of course, it’s a yes!”

  “Just checkin’. You have a history of being fickle, pretty girl.”

  She punched me on the arm but then gave me a kiss that left no doubt about her answer.

  One thing was for sure, going into next season, I’d at least have one new shiny ring on my finger.

  Super Bowl or not—I already fucking won.

  Thank you for reading Monster Baller! Gotta love football! Coming next is Play Maker! The second book in the Bitsberg Knights Duet!

  Enjoy!

  You can find all of my books at KBWinters.com

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  Thank You So Much!

  Thank you so much for reading my books! It means the world to me and I appreciate all of you!

  I hope you enjoy my books and if you can leave a review, or even tell your friends, I’d be honored.

  Thanks to all of my beta readers, ARC readers and Facebook fans. Y’all are THE BEST!

  And a very special thanks to Helen. You are a Godsend. Thank you for making my books, words and writing make sense.

  A huge shout out to the fam bam who has to put up with me at all hours of the morning.

  Y’all are the true champions.

  Hugs!

  KB xoxo

  About the Author

  I love coffee, tattoos and hard-bodied alpha males. The men in my books are super sexy and protective. Some are military badasses who swore an oath to their country, some are full blown bad boys. But all of them find their true love.

  I’m a hopeless romantic and I could write sexy love stories every day for the rest of my life.

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