Montgomery Bell craves adventure-the kind that knocks on your door and drags you out by your half-slept-on hair because it can’t wait another second.
The problem is, she still lives thirty minutes away from where she grew up, in a college town obsessed with the one thing she hates: football.
It doesn’t help that Montgomery wouldn’t know the difference between an interception and a fumble if one hit her in the face.
When she meets Baron Richards, it practically does.
Baron is a rising star in the professional football world. Their worlds collide, sending Montgomery on the kind of adventure she never even thought to look for.
Finding love isn’t the end of the story. You have to figure out what to do with it once you catch it, and run like hell to make that happen.
Don’t worry, Montgomery’s running…she just doesn’t quite know which direction yet.
Mr. Sportsball is not your typical sports romance. It’s a full-length, standalone novel that will have fans and anti-fans cheering for the same team.
Recommended for 18+ due to language and sexual content.
Spoiler free review
K. P. Haigh does it again with Mr. Sportsball! A great plot, writing that flows and a swoon worthy hero come together to make a great read!
Montgomery “Monty” Bell hates sports, especially football and she’s not afraid to give her opinion. Her hatred of the sport stems from a humiliating high school experience that she has never been able to let go of. Now, she is a 23 year old photojournalist with a complex and lack of an adventurous side. Then a hot guy approaches her at a sports bar, where she is reading, and egads, he’s a professional football player.
Baron is the uber-hero. He is sexy, sweet, romantic and fun. He isn’t an alpha male, just a great guy all-around. He sees Monty and he can’t get her out of his head, even after she turns him away the first time they meet.
Monty kind of drove me crazy. She was so afraid of change and she couldn’t get over her football hang up, even when Baron showed her he didn’t fit the stereotype. I mean, let’s be honest here, she blows it. Big time!
Mr. Sportsball is a story of letting go, finding love, finding yourself and letting yourself live life. A great read and another Haigh success!
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
He frowns, but he keeps holding the door open. “What are you sorry about?”
I’m sorry I can’t walk through that door. I’m sorry I can’t date a football player. I’m sorry I can’t seem to get over that detail. “I can’t go on a date with you.”
“Tonight?” I can tell by the way he asks, he already knows the answer. I see his fingers loosening their grip on the door handle.
“Ever.” The word feels like a heavy stone thrown to the bottom of my stomach. The weight is sudden and uncomfortable.
“Because I play football?” He says it like it’s a hobby he picks up from time to time, like he knits scarves or paints watercolors of sunsets, as if it’s something that can be taken out and then packed away when the hour is up and it’s time to go back to normal life.
But, this is normal life.
People recognize him. He has the power to make or break someone’s day, and all because he plays a sport I would rather pull off my own fingernails than sit down to watch. I look at him, and that stone in my stomach feels even heavier.
“We’re just different people.”
“Because I play football.” He lets go of the door and walks over to a chair underneath the coffee shop awning next door. He’s processing what I’m telling him, and I follow him and sit down too.
He’s quiet for another moment, and then he turns to look at me. His blue eyes are so crisp, I bet if I looked close enough I could see his thoughts like an airplane spelling words across the sky.
He leans his elbow on the table and rests his chin on his fist. I have to use all my willpower not to stare at his tan forearm, but really, I don’t know where to stare that doesn’t make me want to throw my defensive stance out the window.
“So, you’re telling me that if I had walked over to you and given you my number the other night, and I was a professor or a plumber or a bartender, you’d go out with me. But because I play football for a living, you’re turning me down.”
“Yes,” I say quietly. The word feels hollow. It seems silly, but I know I’m right. Even if it is silly, I can’t get past it, and I’m not going to lie and go on a date with him just to say I did.
“Hmm.” Baron laughs to himself, like he finally gets the joke. “That’s never happened before.”
K.P. Haigh joined the adult world as a project manager. After spending years in spreadsheets, she put her love of blank notebooks to good use and started spinning words into love stories.
In a perfect world, K.P. would have a never-ending supply of coffee, carbs, and sticky notes. She corners the market on ridiculous facial expressions and is happiest when she’s cooking for people or making them laugh.
She’s always up for crispy French fries and can’t wait for self-driving cars to take over the world so she can read on her way to everywhere.
K.P. lives in Seattle with the man who loves her crazy and their son, who inherited half of it.