Double Dog Dare
(Milwaukee Growlers, #2)
Tracy Solheim
Publication date: July 25th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
They say he who dares wins…
Luke Kessler is known for his daring play on the field and his carefully scripted life off it. The Growlers’ wide receiver has a strict rule of dating one carefully chosen woman per season, then letting her down gently. After all, his game is football, not love. That is until his dopey mutt falls for a French bulldog owned by a hot mess of a woman whose sassy mouth and mind-blowing curves have him fumbling his best laid plans.
After a humiliating concert performance played out in front of the world on social media, cellist Summer Pearson has sworn off a career in music. Forever. She’s hiding out with her grandparents in Milwaukee, licking her wounds and preparing for a predictable, if not boring, law career. The last person she needs challenging her life choices is a sexy, dog-rescuing jock who loves his grandma as much as he loves a good dare.
Especially when that same guy is dating her perfect cousin.
This fun, flirty sports romance delivers a happily ever after that will have you laughing, crying, sighing, and cheering in the endzone. One-click it now for doggy hijinks, senior citizens bent on shenanigans, sexy ax-throwing, locker room bromance, steamy private cello performances, and all the feels as two people discover they are worthy of love.
Double Dog Dare is book 2 in the Milwaukee Growlers Football series but can be read as a standalone with no cliffhangers.
Luke couldn’t take his eyes off her. There was something so damn erotic about the way she was caressing the instrument. The way it seemed to be an extension of her body. The way she was practically making love to it in order to coax out the beautiful sounds.
Fierce desire suddenly washed over him. The desire to feel her hands gliding over his body. To be the lucky shit between her legs instead of that cello. To have her coax a benediction of ecstasy from his lips.
What in the hell?
He was fantasizing about kooky Summer of all people. The hot mess cousin of the perfect woman who was likely going to be a sure thing tonight. Luke sucked in a ragged breath. It had been a while, that was all. But he was going to remedy that situation in a matter of hours.
With Elizabeth.
Not Summer.
He forced his gaze away from her and glanced around the atrium. It seemed the rest of the audience was enjoying the concert as much as his gram. Heads were nodding, toes were tapping, and there was even a couple swaying together near the stage. Some of the staff were handing out glasses of what looked like champagne to the residents.
Summer finished her song with a flourish, and the crowd applauded. Harry Pearson and his friends let out a few catcalls making her blush. Mrs. Hilbert stepped out in front of the crowd.
“Isn’t she wonderful?” she asked. The residents cheered. “Thank you, Summer, for helping us celebrate Gary and Sharon’s engagement this evening.” She gestured to the couple who’d been dancing together. Both of them beamed at Summer before returning their gazes to each other. “Now, let’s all raise our glasses and toast the happy couple.”
Hold up.
Did she say those two geezers just got engaged? And Summer was serenading them with her cello? He felt the smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips. That was it. The answer to his dilemma was sitting right in front of him. Smart-mouthed Summer Pearson and her cello.
He could hire her to play while Palmer proposed. It was simple yet sophisticated. Shaina would eat it up. Now all he had to do was find some romantic spot in Milwaukee to pull it off. Assuming, of course, he could convince a usually crabby Summer to go along with his plan. The woman had the annoying habit of doing the opposite of what he expected.
Then again, Luke loved a challenge. There wasn’t a dare he could resist. And Summer Pearson was a dare wrapped up in form-fitting black pants and a peek-a-boo white blouse. He was suddenly looking forward to the verbal sparring that was sure to come.
Donning his game face, he headed over to her. She didn’t look up, her focus on gently wiping down the bow. “That was amazing,” he said truthfully.
She started at his words. When she glanced up, she looked slightly awed herself. As though she didn’t know she was capable of making such beautiful music. “Um, thank you,” she replied before lovingly tracing the curly top of the cello with her fingertips.
He ignored the tightening in his groin. “Your grandfather wasn’t exaggerating about your talent.”
Her lips curled up into a sly grin. “Couldn’t picture me as anything more than a klutzy drunk, huh?”
“No.”
She arched an eyebrow at him.
Damn it. She was twisting his words. “I meant ‘no’ as in that’s not what I thought.”
Chuckling, she bent over to tuck the instrument inside its velvet-lined case, giving him a bird’s eye view of her rounded ass. A sheen of sweat formed along his shirt collar.
For the love of God, you’ve seen plenty of women’s asses before. Get a grip, man.
He tore his eyes away and got down to business.
“It just so happens I’m looking for a musician to accompany a wedding proposal next weekend.”
She shot up straight, an astonished expression on her face. “Proposal?” she wheezed. “Don’t you think you’re moving a bit too fast?”
It took him a moment to realize what she was insinuating. He jerked his hands up, palms out. “Whoa. Not what you’re thinking. It’s one of my teammates. He’s proposing to his girlfriend.”
“Ah-ha.” She blinked her eyes as if to clear an image from her head. “That makes more sense. Okay.”
He let out a relieved breath at her “okay.”
“Great.”
She aimed another one of those prissy looks at him. “Great what?”
Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. He was beginning to feel like he was on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, and he didn’t want to lose any extremities. Especially not his moneymakers. “Great, you’ll do it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Had he actually been looking forward to conversing with this woman? “You just said ‘okay.’”
“Not ‘okay’ I’ll play for your friend’s proposal. ‘Okay’ that you’re not marrying Lizzie.”
Wait. What?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.
She lifted her cello case and shrugged. “I don’t have to worry about you becoming part of the family.”
He might have felt the blow in the area of his heart, but a lifetime of rejection had walled it off from insults like that one.
Focus, dumb ass.
This wasn’t about him. It was about getting her to play for Palmer’s proposal. And he wasn’t losing this round. Not to Miss Priss here.
“Now that we’ve got that settled,” he ground out. “How much will it cost me to have you play at my buddy’s proposal?”
“I don’t play in front of an audience.” She stepped around him and headed out of the atrium full of partying seniors.
What the ever-loving fuck?
He charged after her, ignoring Gram’s wave.
“Correct me if I’m wrong but weren’t you playing before an audience just now?” he argued.
She glanced back at the seniors around the bar and blew a kiss to her grandfather. “They don’t count.”
Luke’s temple was beginning to throb. “I’m sure they appreciate you thinking that about them.”
Shots fired.
She stopped so abruptly that he nearly bruised his balls on the damn cello case.
“Look, you said next week, right?” she snapped.
He nodded.
She shook her head. “Next week is impossible for me. I’ve got parent-teacher night and a county-wide elementary band meeting another night. The rest of the week is taken up with my LSAT study group.” She resumed her march out of the building.
He was going to need a neck brace after this conversation.
“LSAT? You’re going to law school? But your grandfather said you’re a musician. You teach music, and clearly—” He gestured back to the bar area “—you’re damn good at it.”
She stopped beside a red VW bug. “Dreams don’t always provide stability. A direct quote from Her Honor, Victoria Pearson.” She proceeded to strap the cello into the passenger seat.
“Let me guess. Your mother?”
She tapped her nose.
“She doesn’t support your desire to be a cellist?”
“Oh, she did when I was younger. She was all for it, in fact. Private lessons. Summer camps. The whole nine yards. But only as means to enhance my college application. Once that goal was achieved, she insisted I be more realistic with my ambitions.”
“Your mom sounds like a ball-buster.”
She looked off into the distance. “Not really. It was a solid plan. I wanted to be a lawyer like her. And my dad. But then…” She brushed her fingers along the cello case.
“Then, you fell in love with music,” he finished for her.
She shrugged. “We can’t always get what we want.”
“Yeah, I can relate,” he surprised himself by saying.
USA Today bestselling author Tracy Solheim writes books with shirtless men on the cover. Some of them are actually best-sellers. The books, not the men. When she's not writing, she's practicing her curling. . . bottles of wine, that is. She's been known to cook dinner but no more than two nights in a row. Most days, she'd rather be reading, which to her is just necessary research. She lives in the suburbs of Atlanta with her husband and a neurotic Labrador retriever. Her two adult children visit but not often enough. (See the note above about cooking.) Check out her romantic suspense series featuring the Men of the Secret Service--shirtless, of course! See what she’s up to at www.tracysolheim.com
Hosted by:
No comments:
Post a Comment