by Koko Brown
genre: Interracial, Contemporary Erotic Romance
November 22, 2011
Yvonne Floyd’s best friend and gay soccer phenom Robbie Gutierrez proposes the impossible, pose as his fiancée until he can ink a lucrative contract. Hounded day and night over the media’s constant speculation over his sexual orientation, Robbie doesn’t want to run the risk of losing his career over who he sleeps with.
Although Yvonne feels Robbie has lost his marbles, she takes one one for the team. As Yvonne is initiated into the fast-paced world of international soccer, she’s ill-prepared for a mutual attraction to Robbie’s teammate, Paolo Saito. And when Paolo discovers her secret and turns the tables on her, she quickly loses sight of her goal and risks losing more than just her heart.
EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE
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An Excerpt From: PLAYER’S ULTIMATUM
Copyright © KOKO BROWN, 2011
Yvonne couldn’t move. His gaze penned her to the spot. He wasn’t physically touching her, per se but the effect stoked a fire deep within her belly and she began to throb and tingle in the most embarrassing places.
Instinctively, Yvonne’s hand flew to her chest. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute! To make matters worse, her nipples had become traitorous hard little pebbles against the thin cotton of white tank-top. Embarrassed, Yvonne folded her arms across her chest and faced her tormentor.
Before she could say fish and grits, Mr. Sex in Soccer Cleats, stepped through the throng of camera men and reporters. Normally, she would have been flattered, but couldn’t he have shaken his entourage first?
Time slowed to a crawl without either of them saying a word. Even the reporters crowding around them remained silent save the occasional pencils scribbling on paper. Did they sense the electric charge ping ponging between them?
“Awkard,” Yvonne sing-songed under her breath. Still, despite their being no privacy between them, she didn’t find it too hard to block out the others when she had the most beautiful pair of jet black eyes staring down at her.
Yvonne gulped. He’d taken her hand in his, bent over slightly and kissed her knuckles. If it weren’t for her skimpy top, she would have gone up in some. “Como a senhora se chama?”
”I-I-I don’t speak Italian,” she said, trying to tug her hand away.
“Not Italian,” he said, easily switching back to English. “Portuguese, my native tongue.”
At the mention of tongue, images of them lip locked floated in her head. “I-I don’t speak that either.” But I would love for you to teach me!
Paolo shrugged. “Honest mistake. Your beauty reminds me of my home in Brazil.”
Eww, he was good! Sensing danger of the sexual kind, Yvonne shook the star-dust out of her head.
“Do you have a name,” he asked.
Yvonne struggled to regain her senses. “Yvonne Floyd.”
Did I just give him my first and last name? Yvonne’s brow knitted in vexation.
In spite of her self-reprobation, Paolo seemed pleased. His smile widened, giving her better view of his straight pearly whites. “I’m Paolo Nakashima and since we’re officially acquainted―”
Was he about to ask her out for a date? A rush of excitement swept through Yvonne’s body, severing the oxygen from her brain considering she was already clearing her calendar.
“Too late, Romeo.” Keitha bounced Yvonne out-of-the-way with a well placed hip. “She’s already taken by one of your mates.”
“Ah, Keitha! You grow more beautiful every time I see you.” Paolo dropped Nia’s hand then turned his attention to the other woman. Just like that, he’d dumped her on the trash pile for a beautiful model no less. The moment wasn’t lost on the press either. A few coughs resembling muffled laughter boxed her ears.
While the two exchanged pleasantries, Yvonne brewed. She shouldn’t be angry with him. Paolo Nakashima was just being himself — the international playboy. Her anger was purely self-directed. One smile from a beautiful man and she melted faster than a Hershey bar left outside on a hot summer day. Yvonne was only too happy when he finally excused himself to make his way to the locker room, the press in tow.
“So was I right or what?”
Yvonne tore her eyes away from the Brazilian god retreating in the distance. “Right about what?”
“To stay clear of Il Duca, of course.”
“Dead on the money,” Yvonne whispered. Paulo Saito was handsome, rich, and full of charm. It would be hard to resist his game….
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