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THE SWEET SPOT
Stephanie Evanovich
Releasing Sept 29th, 2015
Mass Market Paperback
Avon Books/Harper Collins
The amazing Stephanie Evanovich returns with The Sweet Spot, the sizzling story of everyone’s favorite couple from her New York Times bestseller Big Girl Panties: hunky professional baseball player Chase Walker and his sassy wife Amanda.
When pro baseball player Chase Walker first meets Amanda at her restaurant, it’s love at first sight. While Amanda can’t help noticing the superstar with the Greek-god-build, he doesn’t have a chance of getting to first—or any other—base with her. A successful entrepreneur who’s built her business from scratch, Amanda doesn’t need a Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet. And a curvy girl who likes to cook and eat isn’t interested in being around the catty, stick-thin herd of females chasing Chase and his teammates.
But Chase isn’t about to strike out. A man who isn’t interested in playing the field, he’s a monogamist who wants an independent woman like Amanda. His hopes rally when she discovers that squeaky-clean Chase has a few sexy and very secret pre-game rituals that turn the smart, headstrong businesswoman on—and into his number one fan.
Then a tabloid discovers the truth and turns their spanking good fun into a late- night punch-line. Is Amanda ready to let loose and swing for the fences? Or will the pressure of Chase’s stardom force them to call it quits?
When pro baseball player Chase Walker first meets Amanda at her restaurant, it’s love at first sight. While Amanda can’t help noticing the superstar with the Greek-god-build, he doesn’t have a chance of getting to first—or any other—base with her. A successful entrepreneur who’s built her business from scratch, Amanda doesn’t need a Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet. And a curvy girl who likes to cook and eat isn’t interested in being around the catty, stick-thin herd of females chasing Chase and his teammates.
But Chase isn’t about to strike out. A man who isn’t interested in playing the field, he’s a monogamist who wants an independent woman like Amanda. His hopes rally when she discovers that squeaky-clean Chase has a few sexy and very secret pre-game rituals that turn the smart, headstrong businesswoman on—and into his number one fan.
Then a tabloid discovers the truth and turns their spanking good fun into a late- night punch-line. Is Amanda ready to let loose and swing for the fences? Or will the pressure of Chase’s stardom force them to call it quits?
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“Cold Creek Grill. How may I help
you?” She answered the phone as if her day was right as rain. She
was a business woman, first and foremost.
“I need a reservation for
tonight,” a gravelly voice barked into the phone. The caller was
either on a cell phone with a bad connection or had a mouth full of
marbles.
“Of course sir, what time are you
looking for?”
“Seven,” he said impatiently and
Amanda pictured him running to catch a subway.
“Let me make sure I have that
available,” she told him, trying to buy time while she booted up
the computer at the podium a few feet away. She moved the phone to
the other side of her head, forgetting it was a war zone and her hair
crackled near her ear.
“Trust me, sweetheart, you have a
table available.”
“Sir?” She didn’t know what to
be more offended by, his use of the word sweetheart or the underlying
threat that she better be able to seat him. And she determined he
was just some arrogant blowhard who was sitting with his feet up on
his desk overlooking the water and a fat stogy in his mouth.
“A superstar is having dinner at
your restaurant; you don’t want to make him wait.”
“All of our guests at the Cold
Creek are VIPs Mr…?”
“Maybe I should speak to the
owner?” he cut her off and she thought she heard more spit squish
out of the end of his cigar.
“I am
the owner. My name is Amanda Cole. To whom do I have the pleasure
of speaking?”
“Don’t seat us someplace high
traffic like near the front. He’s not there to be an
advertisement. You’ll get your photo op.”
It sounded so scathing, like she was
some sort of a bistro whore looking to make a buck, as if she would
be interested in taking a picture with him in the first place.
Supreme Court justices and past presidents dined at the Cold Creek
without incident. “Mr. What-ever-your-name-is, I’m not only
concerned for the comfort of our guests, but the safety of my staff.
And we have had some high profile guests in the past. Several are
regulars.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard that. That’s
why I’m calling. But lady, you never had anyone this big,” he
said with an air of superiority that was nothing short of skin
crawling. At least he had upgraded her to lady.
If he wasn’t being such a total
jack-ass, she might have taken him more seriously. “Would you like
to tell me who he is, so that I might inform security?” she said
with overt sarcasm. He could either take being spoken to in kind, or
he would start to ream her out and she would hang up on him and he
could dine elsewhere, bad business or not.
There was a pause and she thought he
may have hung up on her first. But then he said, “No. Better you
don’t know till he gets there. Someone tips off TMZ and the
night’s a bust. And he brings his own security”
“Will they be joining you for
dinner?”
His laugh was particularly smarmy.
“They’re not paid to eat.”
So he wasn’t only rude, he was
also a tyrant. “That’s fine, sir, they can stand guard with
mine.” Only hers were imaginary. She no longer cared if the
computer was ready. It was a Weds, they were rarely fully booked,
and this man and his famous guest seemed intent on dining there. He
was probably going to be more aggravation than anything else, even if
he was only half as self-important as his representative. “You’re
all set, dinner for two at seven. Would you like to leave me a name
or is there a code word or what?”
There was another pause, and once
again Amanda was given the false hope that he may have hung up and
saved her from a night of inconvenient distractions at the very
least. But then she heard him on the other end, it sounded like a
snort.
“You’re spunky, kid,” he told
her. “Name under Alan Shaw. I’ll be there at 6:50. I don’t
like to wait either. And make sure there are good steaks on hand,
he’s a meat-eater.”
Stephanie Evanovich is a full-fledged Jersey girl from Asbury Park who began writing fiction while waiting for her cues during countless community theater projects. She attended New York’s School of Film and Television and acted in several improvisational troupes and a few small-budget movies, all in preparation for the greatest job she ever had, raising her two sons. Now a full-time writer, she’s an avid sports fan who holds a black belt in tae kwon do.
