I can't believe it. Christopher Baldwin, the baddest boy in baseball, wants me. Amelia Bishop…I was maybe a solid seven before an accident changed my life, leaving me fat, broken, and avoiding mirrors. If he hadn't said it with a stare hot enough to melt brain cells, I would never have believed him when he told me my curves are what he wants.
An arrogant a$$hole with tattoos, a diamond glinting in his ear, and a dirty mouth promising wicked things, Chris Baldwin is no boy. Chris is all man, and a lethally gorgeous one at that. With dimples flashing as he invites me to sin in a slow Southern drawl, I'm trying to remember I don't swoon, sin, or—wait, what? I forgot not to stare directly at his dimples, and those bright blue eyes aren't safe either. Sorry, as I was saying.
As appealing as the idea of sinning with Chris is, there is no doubt in my mind I would fail miserably at it, even under his expert tutelage. Chris has been on a steady diet of strippers, women who have all the right moves. Me, I have no moves at all. Chris is major league; I would get laughed out of little league.
I'm also his lawyer, at least until my brother, Ethan, comes back from vacation. Getting involved with clients is a huge no-no, no matter what primetime television might show. As gorgeous as he is, Chris isn't worth the possibility of hurting my career or losing the hard-earned respect of my boss and brother.
Only I can't deny he makes being bad sound so good. Once Ethan is back I'm no longer Chris's lawyer and it's open season on all my good intentions. Being with him is still dangerous, as his fame attracts all sorts of trouble. Who knows what complications could tear us apart?
***While this novel is a standalone, Holly and Ethan from His Under Contract make an appearance. You need not have read His Under Contract to enjoy His Sweetest Sin. ***
***Warning***
I don't like to watch sports, although I do enjoy watching beautiful men sweat. I've never read a sports romance before. Chris Baldwin isn't just a bad boy, he's a man falling in love with a sassy, damaged, curvy woman, and he also happens to play baseball. When I started writing, I did do my research. I watched the winning series that inspired the story. I watched a bunch of movies and spent hours on Wikipedia. Then I scrapped the paragraphs waxing lyrical about the love of the game and stuck with what I know. My billionaires don't lay out the inner workings of their deals. I figured less is more. So, please be aware the focus is not on the love of the game—it's on the love story.
Thanks,
Fiona
