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That Passionate Season [MultiFormat]
eBook by Adam Carpenter

eBook Category: Erotica/Gay Fiction
eBook Description: He's the hottest prospect in baseball and he's got a name to go along with it: Burn, the hot young son of a fire chief, who only dreams of playing in the major leagues. When he is drafted by the New Jersey Skyscrapers, Burn Silva is sent to gain some experience playing for the team's Single-A team, the Suns. What happens when a sexy, alluring creature like Burn hits the Florida heat? Max Castle is a fourteen year veteran of the big leagues, but to prove he still has more to his game, he's accepted a minor league contract. His goal: get back to the Show, and the only man in his way is Burn. Trouble is, the manager has asked Max to teach Burn the nuances of the game, and their proximity leads to a shocking revelation. Will South, the man sent to chronicle the young phenom's rise from prospect to star, knows almost next to nothing about baseball, and is about to get a fast education: not only about the game but what goes on behind the scenes, in locker rooms and hotel rooms during away games. For this sexually inhibited man, those discoveries will awaken a desire deep within him. In this hot, sexy spin-off from the best-selling HEAT OF THE MOMENT, THAT PASSIONATE SEASON reveals that in Adam Carpenter's world, winning isn't everything; desire is.

eBook Publisher: Ravenous Romance, Published: 2012
Fictionwise Release Date: April 2012

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I would never forget that summer, the heat of those sweltering days and long nights at the ballpark as I listened for the crack of the bat and the roar of the crowd, applauding a home run or a clutch strikeout that broke the opponent's momentum. Or what happened after the game, in hotel rooms and in other places I had never envisioned, wild nights of passion that exploded my preconceived notions of sex, that woke me up from my repressed sexual slumber. Even now, as I put those recent memories to paper, I am amazed at the ease with which I use the language, words that define a sport I'd known so little about when the season began, words about love that had eluded me all my life.

But let's put sex aside, if only for a moment. It's true what I knew about baseball could fit into one column, so when the opportunity presented itself to write about the boys of summer, my first and only inclination was to turn down the assignment. Several factors changed my mind, not least among them the challenge issued by my editor, who told me this was an unrivaled chance to further my journalism career and make a name for myself beyond the constraints of a daily newspaper.

"Newspapers are dying, kid. You may as well see what else is waiting for you out there."

The grizzled old vet, chomping on a cigar, had a good point. I was only twenty-eight and still green behind the ears when it came to the more seasoned reporters at the Albany Sentinel, some of whom had been let go by economic reality. I was kept on mainly because I was cheap, and because I seemed to have no life outside our bullpen--I worked twenty four/seven. So I told him I would think about his offer, give him my answer the next morning. After downing a few beers at my local bar, I returned home--alone, as usual--and somehow still wide awake despite the alcohol swimming in my system. I started to do some research online about why the paper would invest the time and money in this subject.

The subject was not just baseball. It was a young man named Bernard Silva, known as "Burn." Many folks in the region knew of him already, with millions to follow in the coming months and years. He had just been drafted by a Major League baseball team, a local hero about to hit the big time.

The son of a fire chief in a small town in the nearby Adirondacks, Burn had heat to spare. In Little League he had showed off an arm unlike anyone the town of White Pine had seen, and in high school he had caught the eye of Major League scouts from several teams. He could have signed with a team right after graduation but his family insisted he go to college before testing the waters in the amateur draft. By then he'd transitioned from a pitching phenom to highly touted position player; he still had that cannon of an arm, but the power with which he swung the bat sealed his fate. No manager would relegate a power hitter like Burn to the rotation; you wanted to get him as many bats as possible, a chance to win every day rather than every five. And now with that collegiate trajectory dictated by his father coming to fruition, Burn Silva had been the number-two overall draft pick, selected by the New Jersey Skyscrapers, the latest expansion team to hit Major League Baseball, and news of his multimillion-dollar bonus signing had caught the attention of the entire Capitol/Adirondack region.

Burn Silva was a hot topic, not only in these parts but across the country, and I was being offered the chance to chronicle his initial days playing professional ball. Yes, I still had my concerns about whether I could do the job, but like I said, there were several factors that pushed me over the edge. The challenge issued by my editor was one. The other was the fact that I had little else going on in my life--no lover and no prospects in that department on the horizon, so the idea of a couple of months on the road fueled my desire to change my own life, or at least hide from the reality of my lonely existence. But what really sealed the deal

Have you seen a picture of Burn Silva?

In a word, the man defined gorgeous. Wavy dark hair, a perpetual scruff on his cheeks, and dark brown eyes that danced even in a black-and-white photograph. At six-foot-two and with muscles to spare, he oozed heat and sexuality. An athlete in top form, he was the envy of men and the object of desire for women. If only all knew the truth. Because in the course of the ensuing summer, I got to know Burn quite well.

Enough of baseball for a moment. Back to the sex

* * * *

I stopped writing as I heard the shower turn off. The season had ended just a few weeks ago, and since then I had left my job at the paper. My editor was correct: there was so much more waiting for me out in the world, and I had him to thank for how much my life had changed over the course of this past summer--least of them my new lover, who now stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hard, sexy body. I loved the way his hair fell across his handsome face when wet, how his flaccid cock pushed against the terrycloth towel. It wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Hey, babe," he said, coming to me, massaging my shoulders. "You gonna be long?"

"I just finished my first chapter," I said.

"Good. That shower really woke me up."

"I know what that means: a summer of getting to know you taught me that."

"So, let's go. Come to the bedroom. Let me fuck you."

"Hey," I said, "what did I say...now that you and I are together?"

"Right, sorry. Man, you're really a stickler for proper English, even when I'm talking dirty," he said, "Okay, the night is young, Will, and all I want to do is make hot, passionate love to you until the dawn breaks."

"Oh hell," I said, stripping him of his towel and letting his thick cock pop up out of a nest of curly dark hair, stroking it with my hand. "I like it your way, you sexy bastard. Take me here. Fuck me hard, just like you did this past summer. Let me be your catcher."

He laughed aloud; he liked it when I used baseball lingo for purposes that went behind the box scores.

It's funny how a split-second decision can affect your life. Because the morning after I'd been offered this gig, with the picture of the sexy Burn Silva singed in my mind, I told my editor I would take the assignment, and that was when I realized it wasn't just Burn whom I would meet that season, but an entire team of players. From flame-throwing pitchers and talented infielders to power-hitting outfielders, most of them were new to the game, though a couple had already seen it over the course of now-fading careers. Together this tight team would play together, win together, lose together, live together, all while experiencing the highs and lows of a season of grueling baseball. All of them had one goal in mind: the Show. Getting to the Major League.

Of the players I would meet, three of them would stand out for me. Because one of them would achieve his dream, getting that magical call up and never returning to the minors. One of them would come to realize his role in the world of baseball. And one of them, well, he would unfortunately never play baseball again.

Oh, and of those three, one of them would become my lover.

But their stories were for another time. I put down my pen, because right now my lover had other things on his crazy, sex-driven mind. That passionate season was over, a new one was beginning--for him and for me, for us. His dirty thoughts came to fruition, and I was only too happy to give them voice, loudly. He bent me over my desk, his throbbing cock looming, ready for entry, and I smiled back at him, knowing every pulsing inch of him was soon to penetrate me. Then, in baseball parlance, I waved him home.

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