Scoring the Billionaire Playlist:
Blurb:
Two love-matches made.
One to go.
Even though two of his best friends have settled down, Wes Lancaster is determined not to get sucked into some siren’s web. As owner of the professional football team the New York Mavericks and wildly successful BAD restaurant, his lifestyle is full as it is.
Well, it was, until Winnie Winslow, the new, sexy, stiletto-wearing Team Physician trash-talks him in the locker room without batting an eye.
Now he can’t stop himself from wanting her.
The only girl in her parents’ brood of five, she’s as outspoken as she is beautiful and the kind of woman who holds her own—and then some.
Always competitive at heart, if he’s going all in for love...
Wes sure as hell wants a Win-Win.
Prepare to get a little dirty because this one might go into overtime.
Game. On.
Two love-matches made.
One to go.
Even though two of his best friends have settled down, Wes Lancaster is determined not to get sucked into some siren’s web. As owner of the professional football team the New York Mavericks and wildly successful BAD restaurant, his lifestyle is full as it is.
Well, it was, until Winnie Winslow, the new, sexy, stiletto-wearing Team Physician trash-talks him in the locker room without batting an eye.
Now he can’t stop himself from wanting her.
The only girl in her parents’ brood of five, she’s as outspoken as she is beautiful and the kind of woman who holds her own—and then some.
Always competitive at heart, if he’s going all in for love...
Wes sure as hell wants a Win-Win.
Prepare to get a little dirty because this one might go into overtime.
Game. On.
Lora's Review:
4 1/2 out of 5 stars
Wes & Winnie are not like the other couples in this series. They are much more serious and deny their feelings for so much longer than everyone else.
Wes doesn’t want to tie himself down. He definitely doesn’t want anything to do with a woman who has a kid. But he can’t fight his attraction to Winnie. He thinks a quick roll in they hay in the office will put a stop to all the feelings he has.
Winnie doesn’t want to jeopardize her job. She doesn’t want to get involved with a player. She has to think of more than herself because her daughter is her top priority.
Of course, when you throw in the other billionaire bad boys, you can’t help but laugh out loud and realize that Wes and Winnie are bound to be together in the end. One of my favorite quotes from Thatch in this book came when Thatch and Kline were trying to get the scoop on Wes and Winnie from Wes:
“Just like the wickedest of witches, with the right weapon, our own little Wes is melting.”
I have enjoyed this series so, so much and can’t wait to read more. I know this is the last bad boy, but maybe we’ll get some stories from Winnie’s brothers OR maybe we’ll get extended epilogues from all of the guys OR maybe some of the football players. I don’t care as long as Max Monroe keeps writing!!!
Disclaimer:
Max and Monroe, under penalty of fictional perjury, swear that actually changing the rhythm of your heartbeat was not their intention, but rather, a side effect of swoony characters and an overzealous dedication to tears. No, no. The Dedication of the book is actually to tears.
Proceed with caution.
Except, be cautious quickly. Thanks.
Except, be cautious quickly. Thanks.
Tour Giveaway LINK:
Tiny Tease:
“Leave it,” I whispered as her phone rang from her tiny purse that lay discarded on the floor, groaning and pushing her deeper into the wall before sucking the peak of her nipple into my mouth.
We were in the trenches of my favorite two-person activity, and I had absolutely no desire to add a third—especially knowing whoever was on the other end of her phone wasn’t a model for Victoria’s Secret.
Relax. I’m mostly joking.
I’d been working diligently at the removal of each and every piece of her clothing for the last five or so minutes, but we were so desperate to keep our mouths on one another, the process had been slow going and she’d yet to have the chance to reciprocate.
I couldn’t help it, though, and I didn’t mind that I still wore my clothes. Her skin was like a flavor, one I swore had been specifically designed for me by Baskin Robbins, and her nipples were like the cherries on top. Deep red from my attention and perfectly delicious.
But the bleating of her phone threatened to pop my flawless pleasure bubble.
And I was in no way ready to stop.
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