Release date: 10 March 2014
Female professional football quarterback MJ Rooney has her eye on the prize, a record-breaking, championship season. Sure, it would be nice to have family support, but she believes in herself, and she has her teammates. That’s all she needs to win … until a scuffle at a baseball game sends her over the railing and onto the field with a concussion that threatens her season.
Dr. Tag Howard isn’t a baseball player like his brothers, but that doesn’t mean he can’t contribute to the game. He’s poised to become Major League Baseball’s go-to sports medicine doctor if he can rehabilitate Gold Glove Centerfielder Grey Kemmons, who happens to be his estranged brother. It’s a lot to take … until an unorthodox angel crashes into his life with a concussion and a fresh perspective.
MJ doesn’t need a man. She needs a championship ring. Getting messed up with a sexy, doctor and his family baggage isn’t going to get her there. But the attraction is undeniable, and there’s surprising freedom from expectations in each other’s arms … until Tag’s brothers want a reunion that requires him to own up to his ugly past, and MJ’s season teeters amidst the distractions. Would life apart be easier?
by Elley Arden
Sensuality Level: Sensual
Elley Arden is a born and bred Pennsylvanian who has lived as far west as Utah and as far north as Wisconsin. She drinks wine like it’s water (a slight exaggeration), prefers a night at the ballpark to a night on the town, and believes almond English toffee is the key to happiness. Elley writes contemporary romances, where Mr. Not-My-Type ends up being Mr. Right. For a complete list of Elley’s books, visit www.elleyarden.com.
An excerpt from Heal My Heart:
Just beyond first base in the dirt of the warning track, a woman stared up at Tag with watery, translucent eyes. They were the color of a Caribbean sea and, suddenly, the unrest that plagued Tag the minute he stepped onto the field waned. Whoever she was, she was gorgeous, but the blank expression on her sharply angled face bothered him.
“She just came to about a minute ago,” Chris Chalmer, the team’s trainer, said.
“Anything broken?” Marc asked.
If anything was, that could be Tag’s cue to step back and let Mark take over. Then Tag could work his way off the field and return to the comfort of the clubhouse while Marc and Chris tended to the break.
But Tag knew it was a concussion the minute he saw her vacant stare.
He dropped to his knees.
The wind picked up around them, tossing a ribbon of caramel hair across her face where a strand stuck between her lips. She didn’t move except to blink.
Hooking his finger around the loose bend of the strand at her ear, Tag tugged it free on instinct.
She smiled, and something other than discomfort at his current on-field location buzzed in his blood. He ran with it, if only to get through the exam.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Howard. What’s your name?”
“Maya Jane,” she answered. Her voice was soft and scratchy. “But don’t call me that. I hate that name.”
“What’s your last name?” he asked.
“Then how about I call you Miss Rooney?” Tag glanced at her left hand to make sure “Mrs.” wasn’t more appropriate. When he didn’t see a ring, he bit back another smile. This one slightly more troubling, because it was born from an undeniable attraction—something he shouldn’t be thinking about during an exam.
“Good. Miss Rooney, how did you end up on the field?”
“It’s my job to be on the field.”
Tag raised his brows and looked up at Marc.
“Concussion,” Marc mouthed.
“Call for the cart,” Tag said over his shoulder.
Laying on her back on the warning track, the woman stared up at him. “Did I get sacked?”
Sacked? Like fired? Tag shook his head. He didn’t detect an accent, but maybe she was from another country where the phrase meant something different.
“You fell,” he said. “We’re going to get you to the hospital for some tests.”
She mumbled something.
Tag leaned closer until he could feel her warm breath on his cheek and smell her spicy perfume. The normal slow jog of his heartbeat turned into a full-on sprint. “What did you say?”
“I hate hospitals,” she whispered. “I hate doctors, too.”
That was worth a chuckle, so he let loose.