San Francisco Strikers

Drunk-texting a grumpy soccer star? Best worst decision of my life.

Especially when the player is the sinfully handsome, foul-mouthed Holden Sanders . . . my new library assistant.

The benched bad boy needed an image makeover, I needed to save my job, and his star status was just what the library ordered to raise awareness for our fundraising campaign. The press can't get enough of Mr. Growly reading to kids.
It's win-win and completely platonic.

Until I need a shoulder to cry on after drowning my heartbreak in too many margaritas. I only typed that invitation for fun–I never meant to hit send. Holden isn't the kind of guy to care about tears and feelings, least of all mine.

But he shows up–with his strapping shoulder, a box of tissues, and a supersized bag of Doritos. That's when I realize there's more to him than meets the eye.

One soulful, smoldering mistake of a kiss has me craving more, and the heat between us quickly builds to a blaze. But I'm not the only one guarding secrets, and Holden's might push us to the breaking point.

Even if I'm surrounded by books, I know better than to believe in storybook endings. And yet, I want to believe . . . Because I know he's a keeper.