Catching Zia (Spring Training, book 1)


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“Catching Zia, the first book in the Spring Training Series, is my first book by Becca Jameson and I really loved it! It definitely won’t be my last… I loved the writing and was drawn into the story right from the start. Lots of heart with a touch of humor.”—Sheila’s Book Corner

Ms. Jameson creates a wonderful world contained on one mountain. A fire in the Smokies is nothing compared to the heat in this beautiful love story. The sex is sizzling. The love is a living and breathing emotion. A light and beautiful read with enough spice to entertain. – See more at:
Ms. Jameson creates a wonderful world contained on one mountain. A fire in the Smokies is nothing compared to the heat in this beautiful love story. The sex is sizzling. The love is a living and breathing emotion. A light and beautiful read with enough spice to entertain. – See more at:
Catching Zia releases January 17, 2017.


Welcome to the Spring Training series. Spring Training follows the lives of several major league baseball players as they deal with the fame and reality of life and love. This first book in the series, Catching Zia, features the second baseman and his desire to meet a woman who isn’t after him for his money or his celebrity status.

She has no idea who he is

Zia’s main passion in life is art. And she’d gladly spend days on end sketching the hunky man who stops to admire her work while jogging through the park one sunny afternoon.

He unwisely keeps her in the dark…

Brett has been ogling Zia for days. The sketch in her lap provides the perfect opening. When it’s immediately obvious she has no idea he’s a major league baseball player, he relishes the opportunity to take a gorgeous woman out on a normal date.

Will she give him a second chance? What about a third?

What Brett doesn’t know is that Zia grew up with a compulsive liar, and his omission is more than she can tolerate. Second chances are rare in this life, and somehow Brett manages to squander that one also. He’s got an uphill battle if he wants to fight for this strong-willed woman.



“I had a wonderful time tonight,” he stated, taking her hand in his and holding it on top of the console between them.

“Me too. Thank you for taking me out. And the restaurant was wonderful. Excellent choice.” She tried to rationalize or at least explain the incongruences. On the one hand, he’d practically rushed away from the restaurant as if he were in a hurry to get this night over with. On the other hand, he held her fingers threaded with his and continued to glance at her with earnest interest.

If he hadn’t enjoyed the evening, he didn’t need to continue to touch her or make eye contact.

How was she supposed to process that?

When he pulled up to her apartment twenty minutes later, he rounded the car like the total gentleman he had been all evening, opened her door to help her out, and then walked her to her front door.

His hand twined with hers again. Pure unadulterated arousal shot through her system for the millionth time. She hadn’t felt this level of magnetism with any man she’d slept with.

What was she thinking? Why would she contemplate sleeping with this guy so fast?

Because her sex was wet and she’d been clenching it all evening. Because her nipples had stood at attention for the same length of time. Her mouth had been dry. A tightness in the pit of her stomach had made itself at home, begging her for release.

She could give him a goodnight kiss, send him on his way, and relieve herself with her perfectly operational electronic man-substitute. But that orgasm would be incredibly unfulfilling tonight.

And why? Was there a need to be such a prude? It was the twenty-first century. Plenty of women had sex with men they’d known far less than she knew Brett. She’d lived with one of them for eighteen years.

That thought made her cringe. She was not her mother. And she never wanted anyone to think of her in that light.

So, maybe it would be a bad idea to invite him in.


What should she do?

Her time was up. They’d reached her apartment—a first floor outside entrance. Without saying a word, however, Brett slowly spun her around so her back was to her front door. He set his hands on both sides of her head and met her gaze from inches away—his boring into her, reading her, studying her. “I’m going to kiss you.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

Then his lips were on hers. His head angled to one side, and he claimed her mouth without hesitation. There was no slow build. No gentle peck. No nibbling exploration.

Full-fledged, deep, penetrating, all-consuming kissing.

She grabbed his waist with both hands, mostly to keep from falling over.

Her brain instantly scrambled as his tongue swept into her mouth to dance with hers.

The arousal she’d felt earlier shot to full-on, out-of-control lust. Her chest actually ached. And she arched into his in an effort to press her breasts against his pecs.

He lifted his hands from the door beside her head and buried them in her hair, tipping her head farther to one side and taking a stronger stance.

As if he needed to be more in control. As it was, she was putty in his hands.

The moisture between her legs increased to coat her panties. And she tightened her thighs together against the ache that drove her mad.

As if he sensed this and didn’t like it, Brett nudged her knees apart with one of his and forced her legs open.

Oh God. She was going to faint.

So many sensations. Bombarding her. Consuming her.

She uncurled her fingers where they clenched his shirt and flattened her palms on his waist. And then she ran them up his back, attempting to draw him closer to no avail. He didn’t budge. Not an inch. As if he was in complete control and she was a teenager with unchecked raging hormones.

The only indication he wasn’t fully aware of his stance was the way he urgently continued to deepen the kiss, as if he couldn’t get enough of her and would die of thirst if he stopped.

His hands in her hair gripped tighter, almost pulling. But the sensation only made her desire shoot higher.

Who knew she would enjoy a sexual encounter like this? It was heady having a man with so much confidence. He was in control of everything. She was simply a puppet. A willing puppet who never wanted this to end.

When a low moan finally escaped his lips, indicating he was indeed affected by the kiss, he pulled back. By then, she was delirious with need.

He took several deep breaths, setting his forehead against hers and searching her gaze. “Wow.”

“No kidding,” she whispered.

“I should go.”

“You should definitely stay.”