Excerpt Reveal: Whoa There Cowboy by Ginger Scott!

⚾️𝔼𝕏ℂ𝔼ℝℙ𝕋 ℝ𝔼𝕍𝔼𝔸𝕃 ⚾️

𝙒𝙝𝙤𝙖 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝘾𝙤𝙬𝙗𝙤𝙮 (𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝘽𝙤𝙤𝙠 4) by USA Today bestselling author Ginger Scott releases on July 9th. Check out this sneak peek! 

PRE-ORDER/ ADD IT TO YOUR AMAZON WISHLIST! 

https://geni.us/whoatherecowboy

What to expect:
⚾️ Grumpy x Sunshine
⚾️ Opposites Attract
⚾️ Cowboy/ Small Town
⚾️ Baseball Player
⚾️ Family Conflict
⚾️ PR x Player
⚾️ City Girl x Country Boy

Excerpt: 

Hair the color of honey streams down her back in waves, and the fitted white blouse tucked into the snug black skirt that stops at her knees hugs her curves like glaze on a piece of pottery. I’ve seen her around the complex the last few days. Campbell Hines. I only know her name because I overheard her leaving a message for someone when she walked by the bullpen the other day. I think she’s the new marketing rep. She has that PR polish about her. And I can’t deny that she’s good for our image. Hell, with a body like that, she can make anything look good—even a Triple-A club squeezed between a dying ranch town and a college hub.

She’s pacing near the front offices, her phone pressed to her ear. She’s on that thing a lot. I drop my gaze as I close in on her, not wanting to appear like I’m ogling or anything. Even if I was.

“I hear what you’re saying, Skip, but what I’m telling you is I’ll get you a lead story. This place is so exciting right now. The club is on the brink of a killer season, and the talent coming through here . . .” Her lashes flit about a second before her green eyes meet mine. Her lip inches up on one side, the glossy red color taunting me like one of those apples in Snow White.

“Hi,” she mouths through her smile.

“Mornin’,” I say with a nod. I’m still dressed for ranch work, my boots dirty from the barn, and my forehead damp with sweat. My hair is mushed under my Stetson. I feel burlier than normal, like a bear trying to maneuver its way into an office. But I manage to hold open the glass door for the goddess, giving hell to whoever is on the other end of that phone call, and when she whispers, “thank you,” as she passes me, I swear I’m hit with a rush of morphine and citrus blossoms all at once.

“Got it, Skip. I’ll deliver. Thank you,” she says, ending her call where the hallway splits in two directions—left for players and right for the money folks.

“Thank you, by the way,” she says, spinning to face me before we part ways. My heart speeds up, and I realize as her hand juts toward me that my palms are suddenly sweating. I run my hand along my thigh and take her slender palm in mine. She gives me a tough shake, and it makes me smirk.

“What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t hold a door open for a beautiful woman?” I say, my eyes squinting with my smile. I think my fucking cheeks are actually hot. What the hell is happening?

She leans into me during our shake, then whispers, “You’d be a real asshole.”

I chuckle and nod as our grip releases.

“Well, I might be that already.” I figure I might as well lead with the shit she’ll figure out on her own soon enough.

“I’m Campbell,” she says.

I nod and smile.

“Yeah, I know your name. You stand out around here. The last marketing rep was, well, in his sixties. And let’s just say his jeans hung a little too low on his waist.”

Campbell scrunches up her face as she chuckles.

“Oh, no. That’s bad. Please tell me if my jeans are ever riding too low, would you?” she replies. She’s being clever, but my damn hot cheeks are making it hard for me to keep my manners in check.

“No, ma’am. I’m afraid if I see your jeans low, I’m going to like it,” I say.

Her smile falls, and fast. Then she takes a noticeable step backward. It’s not like I lied. I told her I was an asshole. My mom hates that sexist shit. Fuck, Jake. Think before speaking.

“I’m Jake, by the way. Mc—”

“I know who you are,” she says, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. My shoulders relax. Maybe I didn’t absolutely dig myself a grave with that jeans comment. Of course . . . I know why she knows who I am, and it’s not because of anything I did.

“Right. I guess I should get used to that this season. If he sticks around, that is.”  I stop short of rolling my eyes.

“Oh, I thought this was your dad’s final year. The way I understand it, he’s here to pass the torch and be the veteran player who spreads his wisdom. Between you and me, I bet they put him on staff to coach in Sweetwater. I’d say he’s here for the long haul. I mean, they’ll retire his jersey in Texas probably, because, well . . . he’s Roddy McKinney. And he’ll have to leave for that. But he’ll be back.”

“We’ll see,” I say, backing away while I’m ahead. Or at least before I go back under.

“What makes you so sure?” Her eyes narrow on me, and her mouth falls into this gentle curve as if she’s genuinely curious. I got used to folks around here knowing my story.

“Oh, I’d put it about the same way you did before. Because . . . well . . . he’s Roddy McKinney.” I shoot Campbell a half-smile before spinning on my boots and heading toward the clubhouse locker room to change and try my damnedest to be useful enough to keep around.

BLURB:

𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙟𝙤𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙋𝙍 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢. 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙟𝙤𝙗 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙈𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙥 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙟𝙖𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧’𝙨 𝙜𝙚𝙖𝙧.

To make the splash I need, I have to sell the team’s most complicated story: hometown catcher Jake McKinney and his estranged, all-star father, Roddy. Only problem? Just because they’re teammates now doesn’t mean they’re talking.

I’ve dealt with difficult athletes before, but Jake is a special brand of prickly. He’s bullheaded, defensive, and completely hell-bent on ignoring me. But I have my own hyper-critical father to answer to, and failure isn’t an option. If Jake thinks he can freeze me out, he’s underestimated how stubborn I can be.

But when his walls finally crack, I don’t just see a player destined for greatness, I see a man determined to right his father’s wrongs. I see the shared scars we both try to hide. And when he kisses me, the carefully planned future I’ve spent years building suddenly starts to blur.

Falling for a player is a massive line to cross. Choosing my career means reopening wounds Jake has worked so hard to heal. But walking away means letting go of my lifelong dream and proving my father right. 

Do I stay the course and protect my future, or risk it all for a love I never saw coming?

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Find more books by Ginger Scott here: www.littlemisswrite.com