Sixty pairs of eyes turned to look in my direction. The table seated twenty, and the chairs were three rows deep. CUM called out from the head of the conference table. Imagine how much character some bright red throw pillows would add to a guest room-flaunting the initials the Macy men saw fit to pass down through their lineage-CUM.

I stared blankly out the window as he droned on, wondering if any of his male ancestors had gotten their pillowcases monogrammed with their initials. Monday afternoon mandatory meetings consisted of three hours of Charles Ulysses Macy the Third telling the mostly men in the sports programs division about his latest conquest. Interior Formatting & Proofreading by Elaine York/Īllusion Graphics, LLC/Publishing & Book Formatting Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.Ĭover designer: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative All names, characters, locations and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.All rights reserved. Author's note - The Baller is a full-length standalone novel. There's a story between once upon a time and happily ever after. But the truth was, all he needed was a girl worth changing for. Every woman wanted to be the one to change him.

Good looking, strong, cocky, always looking to get laid. It's the other kind of player I don't date. And it's not because I'm one of the few women working in the world of professional football. When I pushed back, he shifted from wanting to screw with me, to wanting to screw me. The Super Bowl MVP quickly adopted a new hobby-screwing with me.

The arrogant ass decided to drop his towel, just as I asked the first question. And by all, I don't mean he told me any of his secrets. The famed quarterback decided to bare all. It was my first interview as a professional sportscaster. The first time I met Brody Easton was in the men's locker room.

The baller by vi keeland