Mister Baller
A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance
Cassie-Ann L. Miller
Mister Baller (A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance)
Copyright © 2020 Cassie-Ann L. Miller
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents appearing therein are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status of the various products referenced in this work.
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Contents
Stories by Cassie-Ann L. Miller
About “Mister Baller”
1. Iris
2. Jude
3. Iris
4. Jude
5. Iris
6. Jude
7. Iris
8. Jude
9. Jude
10. Iris
11. Jude
12. Jude
13. Iris
14. Iris
15. Iris
16. Jude
17. Iris
18. Jude
19. Iris
20. Jude
21. Jude
22. Iris
23. Iris
24. Jude
25. Iris
26. Jude
27. Jude
28. Jude
29. Iris
30. Jude
31. Iris
32. Iris
33. Iris
34. Jude
35. Iris
36. Jude
37. Iris
38. Jude
39. Iris
40. Jude
41. Jude
42. Iris
43. Jude
44. Iris
45. Jude
46. Iris
47. Jude
48. Iris
49. Jude
50. Iris
51. Jude
Epilogue
So, what to read now…?
Dirty Cameos & Easter Eggs
Stories by Cassie-Ann L. Miller
The Bad Boys in Love Series
Mister Billions
Mister Baller
Mister Baby Daddy (pre-order)
The Blue Collar Bachelors Series
Lover Boy
Play Boy
Bad Boy
Hot Boy
Rich Boy
Dream Boy
Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set
The Dirty Suburbs Series
Dirty Neighbor
Dirty Player
Dirty Stranger
Dirty Favor
Dirty Lover
Dirty Farmer
Dirty Silver
Dirty Forever
Dirty Christmas
The Esquire Girls Series
Amber Nights (Amber – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)
Madison’s Story
For Madison, Always (Madison – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)
Ruthie’s Story
Ruthie’s Desire (Ruthie – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)
Hailey’s story
Moments with Hailey (Hailey - Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)
Esquire HEAT Series
A Very Eager Intern
A Very Frustrated Attorney
Standalone Novels
Holiday Hookup with the Rockstar
Happy New You
About “Mister Baller”
My college rival. My ex-husband's best friend.
My new roommate? Oh, boy.
The last thing I want is to rent my spare bedroom to my ex-husband's best friend.
His six-foot-three, dimple-faced, alphahole best friend. His injured-professional-football-player best friend.
But desperate times, desperate measures, y'know?
I can't afford to hold grudges. These heaping bills of mine won't pay themselves.
Keeping my distance from my new roommate should be simple enough. I mean, I can't stand Jude Kingston. Plus, as my ex's friend, he's so off-limits he's virtually radioactive.
In any case, Jude promises to stay out of my way. He's just a broken football hero in need of a quiet place to focus on healing his injured knee and saving his lifelong dream.
Harmless, right?
Um, not so much...
The man is infuriating. He spends his days parading that shirtless, muscle-bound body all around my house. He insists on involving himself in my private business. He has zero concept of personal space.
But he also has this boyish, unintentional charm. And this inconvenient way of repeatedly coming to my rescue.
Suddenly, lust is throbbing in every room of this house.
Lingering gazes over the dinner table...
Sweaty workout sessions on the living room floor...
Stolen kisses in the moonlit hallways...
I can't fight these soft feelings growing roots in my belly. Jude is a vine, slowly wrapping himself around my heart.
But when a piece of my past threatens his entire future, will our love even stand a chance?
Mister Baller is a steamy, laugh-out-loud, enemy roommates-to-lovers small town romance featuring a stubborn footballer with a sinful eight-pack, an insufferable ego and the food preferences of a toddler. It is set in small town Illinois and is book 2 in the Bad Boys in Love series.
A full-length (85 000-word) standalone. No cliffhanger. HEA guaranteed.
1
Iris
Oh my god. Eff this diet.
The rich scents of basil and oregano practically throb in the air. A waitress weaves between tables with steaming plates of chicken parmesan. My eyes follow the woman's movements across the low-lit Italian restaurant like a mesmerized house cat watching a squirrel video.
I'm vaguely aware that I might be drooling.
When the divine chicken parm reaches its destination—the adorable elderly couple seated near the window—my empty gut lets out a loud, hollow noise that echoes above the ambient music. I clench my stomach to hush the sound.
Lexi aims a pitying glance at the sad-looking spring greens on my plate. “You sure you don’t want a bite?” She wiggles a forkful of cheesy, marinara-drenched pasta at me from the other side of our booth.
Oh, I’d make some sketchy life choices for a piece of cheese right about now...
The voice of reason barges into my parmesan fantasies like the cock-blocker she is. No, Iris. Cheese might give you a temporary dopamine hit but in the long run, you're only gonna look in the mirror and feel bad about yourself.
And heaven knows that my self-esteem has already taken a beating over the past few months.
I lost my marriage, my business and my sense of self all in the span of a few weeks. The last thing I need is yet another failure weighing me down.
Now, I’m 27, newly-divorced and determined to overhaul virtually everything in my life. My body, my finances, my health. I’m acutely aware that I won't get anywhere with this plan un
less I'm willing to exercise a little discipline—and forego a little cheese—at this point.
Hence the diet. And the fixed budget. Both wonderful, mature adulting decisions.
Not so wonderful for dining out, though.
It takes everything in me to refuse Lexi's offer. I shake my head vigorously. "Oh, nah. I'm good with this." I stab my fork into the pile of limp spinach in front of me and shovel it into my mouth. "Mmm. Delicious."
My salad is not delicious. My salad tastes like dirt.
But I’m strong—and poor—so I’m sticking to my guns.
I haven’t seen much of my bestie over the past few weeks. We’ve both been busy with our own lives. Lexi's been struggling to balance her thriving bridal boutique with her bangin' hot sex life.
Me? I fill my days with testing out new business ideas, coming up with creative ways to dodge my creditors and trying to stretch every penny to keep the lights on at my beloved, little house.
So, when Lexi texted this morning, I jumped at the opportunity to catch up with her and her new husband, Cannon, over lunch. When the menus showed up and I ordered the small mixed green salad, my friends offered to suffer along with me in salad purgatory but that would have been selfish. It's not every day that we come to Gallo’s, the finest Italian eatery north of Chicago. I want them to enjoy their meal.
Even though watching them eat actual food—and love all over each other—is pure torture.
"Pass a taste of that spaghetti over here, Stormy.” Cannon juts his chin at his wife's meal and gives a billion-dollar grin.
Cartoon hearts shoot from Lexi’s eyes when she turns to her husband and feeds him the pasta. He bites the fork and growls. She giggles like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen.
I feel so single right now.
In any case, I may be in a bad place right this minute but I have every intention of dusting myself off and getting back up. A new relationship is way, way down at the bottom of my list of life goals but I want all the other stuff. A thriving business, a comfortable home, a growing bank account, and most importantly, a strong healthy body that will make my ex eat his rotten heart out.
True—my ass hurts from all those squats and my house smells like steamed broccoli all the time. But it'll be worth it in the end.
Grabbing the salt shaker, I add a dash of sea salt to my salad and take another bite. Now, I'm eating salted dirt. Awesome.
My phone vibrates on the tabletop, and I glance down at the alert that my bank account is below my arbitrary warning amount. In other words, if I don’t make a deposit soon, my next couple bills will send me into the red. I shut my eyes in frustration.
Unfortunately, this has become my new normal. Ever since the divorce, I’ve been living month-to-month, struggling to figure out a reliable source of income. I need to come up with something. And quick.
My bestie guzzles down her glass of water then motions to our waiter for a refill. She leans forward and pastes a huge smile across her face. "So, the reason we asked you to lunch is because—”
Cannon's phone dings next to his plate. He and Lexi share a weird look. They've got some major non-verbal communication stuff going on. I'm not privy to the meaning. Cannon drops a quick kiss on his wife's cheek then excuses himself from the table to take the phonecall.
Lexi's eyes come back to me. “Anyway, your spare room is still available to rent, right?”
“Yup." I heave a sigh.
For rent: One bedroom in a quaint non-smoking bungalow with yours truly. Another one of my failed business ventures.
Every time someone inquires and finds out that the house is occupied by the owner, they ghost me. No one’s jumping at the opportunity to be my roomie. Not that I blame them. An owner-occupied property usually means a nosey landlord watching your every move. Privacy goes out the window and rowdy parties are off the table.
Anyway, it's probably for the best. As a woman living alone, I'm not wild about having to share my home with a complete stranger. You hear all these crazy stories on the news. The last thing I want is to take in a psycho-killer and end up as a tarp-burrito in a shallow grave in my backyard.
Lexi claps excitedly, wearing a too-big smile. “Oh, perfect! Cannon actually knows someone who's looking for a place to rent for a while.” She takes another drink of her water.
A hopeful feeling takes root at my friend’s declaration. “Really?”
She nods and wiggles around in her seat. “Yup. And that’s not the best part..." She almost sounds like an infomercial host trying to close a sale. But wait—there's more. All for three low payments of $19.99... "This renter will be able to pay double what you’re asking online,” she continues.
My eyebrows jump to my hairline. "Double?" I look to Cannon with his phone pressed to his ear, pacing the sidewalk outside, a no-nonsense expression on his handsome face. When our eyes meet, he lifts a finger to indicate that he's about to wrap up his call.
"Double,” she confirms, nodding with enthusiasm. I have to admit I'm getting sort of excited.
“So, who's this mysterious renter?" I ask. I take another bite of my salad. Suddenly, it doesn't taste that bad.
Lexi's eyes dart to the window before rebounding to my face. “Um, Cannon has all the details." She takes another big gulp from her glass. Almost like she's trying to avoid my question. "Gosh, are you hot? I'm hot." With her next sip, she empties the glass. "I've been drinking water like a camel these days.”
Lexi and her husband make eye contact through the window. They exchange a series of baffling hand gestures and head shakes and facial expressions I won't even pretend to understand.
"Gimme a sec to run to the little girl's room. When Cannon gets back, we'll go over everything together with you." Then she urgently gets up from the table and rushes off toward the bathroom.
Something doesn’t seem right. Is it just me or are those two being sort of cagey about this?
I shrug off the suspicion. Dammit—Kirk's betrayal has made me so paranoid. I trust Alexia, and Cannon, by extension. I won't let my failed marriage plant seeds of doubt in my head. If this potential renter is coming on Lexi's recommendation, they must be a decent person.
Cannon disconnects his call and returns to the table. He blows out a relieved breath. "I'm really glad you're able to help us out with this, Iris." He gives me a quick smile then starts tapping away at his phone.
"Yeah, of course..." I glance toward the bathrooms. No sign of Lexi yet.
He goes on. "You're taking a huge load off of us. Alexia and I are newly-weds. The last thing we need right now is a houseguest, y'know?"
"I do know."
Those two are hot for each other around the clock. They spend pretty much all their time attached at the genitals unless they can help it. I can see why they wouldn't want any third parties under their roof.
Still, I feel a slight niggle of uneasiness under my skin. I try to convince myself that I'm just nervous about having a tenant for the first time. Of course, the prospect of sharing my house with a stranger is scary but bazillions of people do it every day.
And, most of them don’t become a tarp-burrito.
Finally, Cannon tucks away his phone and looks up. He smiles gratefully. "So I went ahead and booked the reservation through the website. Is that cool?”
By now, my intuition is flashing red lights and blasting warning signals like a fire alarm bell. "You booked it?!"
A new notification dings on my own phone, alerting me that my rental has now been reserved. Fuck!
He furrows his brows. "Wasn't I supposed to?"
"Well, Lexi said we'd all go over the details once she gets back from the washroom."
Right then, my best friend bounces up to the table, obviously feeling lighter now that she's drained the tank. "What'd I miss?" Her gaze volleys between her man and me.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Um, Cannon booked the reservation...?" I eyeball her questioningly.
Lexi lowers slowly into her spot beside
her groom, her smile gradually sliding down at the corners. "You did?" She addresses her husband but her eyes stay on me, surveying my expression. "Did you tell her?"
Uh-oh.
“Tell me what?" I try to sound casual but I feel my entire body clench to abate my nerves.
My friend speaks again. "Did you tell her who the tenant is?"
“The tenant?" I swallow. "Anyone I’d know?”
"Fuck." Cannon mutters under his breath.
Lexi watches him with wide eyes. "Cannon!" she scolds in an alarmed tone. "Babe, we agreed that we'd ease her into this! I told you we'd have to butter her up to the idea."
"But you said you'd explained everything to her." Cannon repeats the flailing hand gestures and weird facial expressions from earlier.
Lexi tilts her head to the side. "No...I said, we'll explain everything to her together." She does her own version of the gesticulating with subtle variations.
"Guys—you're freaking me out," I mutter. "Who's the tenant?"
Mister Baller: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 2) Page 1