The Virgin Replay (Rules of Love #3) Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Erotic, Funny, Romance, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Rules of Love Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

The Virgin Replay (Rules of Love #3)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lauren Blakely

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
9798450542430
Book Information:

A virgin, an athlete, a fake romance...and only one bed in the hotel room.
Following rules shot me to the top of my game as an all-star baseball player, and the golden rule is this -- don’t hookup with your teammate’s sister.
But ask her to be your fake date when you desperately need one for a family wedding?
Nothing in the guy code against that. Plus, the flirty, feisty Sierra’s my friend too, so why the hell not pretend we’re madly in lust for two days in Hawaii? No hardship in a make believe kiss here, a fake smooch there, as long as we don’t cross any dangerous lines.
Then, the hotel books us into the same suite. Which means she’s showering near me, putting on itty bitty bikinis in the same room, sliding into that king-size bed wearing only a black lace cami.
But I resist...until the night she tells me she’s been waiting for me to be her first.
And there’s nothing fake about my desire to say yes, even though that’s definitely against the code. But, maybe only if someone catches feelings?
And neither one of us will. Until I do…
Books in Series:

Rules of Love Series by Lauren Blakely

Books by Author:

Lauren Blakely



Her Prologue

Some women collect postcards from their travels. Some collect colorful apothecary jars.

Me? I have a thing for . . . pretty little things.

Scraps of lace.

Bits of satin.

Snippets of silk.

I don’t even believe in saving them for dates, or for men, or for, gasp, sex.

I wear sexy matching lingerie every damn day of the week.

Red, black, pink. Striped, polka dotted, floral. Bring on the hip-hugging, breast-boosting secret luxuries.

They make me feel so many things—mostly like a badass babe in charge of my own destiny.

That’s not something I had when I was younger, but I’ve craved it over the years. I’ve sought out control in nearly every aspect of my life. Control over my choices, control over romance, and I suppose, control over men.

I don’t mean dominatrix-style control.

All I mean is that I’m picky. I don’t trust easily. Trust is hard won, and when it comes to romance, I haven’t experienced it at all.

Trouble is, I’d very much like to have the other things that come with romance. The red-hot tangles in the sheets. The wild, sexy nights.

And I’d like to have them with a certain someone.

Admittedly, I’ve been weighing the option of this guy for the last year.

As in, every time a certain tall, dark, handsome, and charming man walks into my bar, I imagine his face if he undressed me and glimpsed what I wore next to my skin.

Which tells me . . . it’s finally time for this badass babe to make a daring proposition.

His Prologue

Two things I always knew I wanted to be when I grew up—a ballplayer and a guy my teammates could rely on.

Baseball is hard, but the rules are straightforward: throw the ball, hit the ball, catch the ball.

It helps to have a ninety-eight-mile-an-hour fastball and wicked control. It’s a bonus that I play well with others. That’s how I’ve become one of the top closers in the Major Leagues.

As long as you follow the rules, being a good teammate off the field doesn’t have to be complicated either.

One: don’t run off at the mouth like a dipshit. Especially not in front of reporters, fans, the public, or anyone with a cell phone camera. Which is everyone these days.

Two: don’t be a dick, and don’t show your dick online.

Three: don’t post pictures of yourself skunk-faced trashed, and maybe don’t get so trashed that it seems like a good idea in the first place.

Finally, don’t hook up within two degrees of separation from a teammate.

No moms, daughters, or sisters.

Fortunately, I’ve had zero temptation and zero trouble. My mouth doesn’t lead me into trouble, and my dick hasn’t either, since I was married and faithful for ten years.

But thanks to one helluva vicious heartbreak and a brutal divorce, I’ve been single for 365 days and 365 nights of solitude.

Lately, though, I wouldn’t mind the company of one woman in particular. A woman who’s fierce, stunning, and fantastically sarcastic.

I’d like to take her out.

Take her home.

Indulge in a few hot dates of the all-night-long variety.

But I don’t slide into Sierra’s DMs with a hookup request. Why?

Because the woman I want isn’t merely the bar owner around the corner.

She’s a teammate’s sister.

And good guys don’t ask a teammate’s sister for hot, sweaty, forget-the-world sex.

Until I discover a way to bend this guideline. With her.

Maybe I’m a good guy with a secret bad boy streak.

1

Sierra

I’m pretty good at reading people—comes with being a bartender. But there’s one customer I haven’t been able to get a read on in the last year.

The guy who’s putting the pool cues away in the game room at my bar.

At least, I can’t get a read as to whether he’ll ever ask me out.

Or ask me to go home with him.

With everyone else gone for the night and The Spotted Zebra already closed, I steal a moment to check out Chance Ashford as he lifts his multimillion-dollar right arm to place the sticks in the holder on the wall.

I’m enjoying the view of him a lot. Every time he comes by, I enjoy the view a little more. And then I wonder . . .

When he’s done, the tall drink of a man turns around, wipes one palm across the other, and flashes me a winning grin. “That’s done.”

Best to keep things friendly, as they’ve always been, till I know where we might go from here. “Watch out. I just might enlist you in mopping and cleaning up,” I say breezily.

His chocolate-brown eyes twinkle. “I just might say yes.”

I laugh, then hook my thumb in the direction of the door. “Hit the road, Chance. You’ve got playoffs to rest up for.”

Chance is the closing pitcher for the San Francisco Cougars, my second-favorite baseball team in the city. Since my brother became their starting catcher, the team has grown on me. Some of the guys on the team have become close friends over the last few years, stopping by my bar after games.


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