If I had a dollar for every time Banner Morales made my heart skip a beat...
The heart everyone assumes is frozen over.
Her anger is...arousing.
Every glare from those fire-spitting eyes, every time she grits her teeth,
gets me...well, you know.
If I had a dollar for every time she's put me in my place, I'd be an even richer man.
I'm a successful sports agent because I assume "no" means you'll think about it.
I'm sure what you meant to say is "Coming right up.”
They say even rich men don't always get what they want,
but those men don't know how to play the game. The trick is to keep them guessing.
Take Banner. She assumes she's winning, but this game?
She doesn't even know how to play.

BANNER
If I had a dollar for every time Jared Foster broke my heart, I’d have exactly one dollar.
One night. One epic fail. One dollar...and I'm out.
I've moved on.
I’ve found success in a field ruled by men.
Anything they can do, I have done better.
They can keep the field while I call the shots, blocking them when I have to.
And Jared has the nerve to think he gets a second chance?
Boy, please. Go sit down. Have several seats.
I'll just be over here ignoring the man carved from my fantasies with a lust-tipped chisel.
Oh, I didn't say the struggle wasn't real.
But I've got that one dollar, and Jared won't have me.

I have been following Kennedy Ryan for some time now and she just gets better and better with each book she releases. Block Shot was everything I was looking for right now… angsty, sexy, fun banter, emotional highs and lows, and characters I would grow to love. And I did… all of them.

Jared and Banner had a one-night stand back in college that ended badly. Ten years have passed and they are working in the same industry, in the same town, and their worlds collide bringing them face to face—to work out their issues from the past, the miscommunication, the lost time, and most importantly the lost love.

“I saw you first. I had you first. I want you back.” OMG *le sigh*

Jared is my dream guy. He is unapologetic for who he is—selfish, assured, cocky, at the top of his game, and he wants Banner back—despite her having a boyfriend and being in a committed relationship. He wants their missed time back. And he stops at nothing to get what he wants.

And I can’t blame him. I LOVE Banner… strong minded and strong willed, smart, business savvy, at the top of her game but always leading with her heart. I related to Banner in her self-esteem issues, always questioning if she was good enough, pretty enough. Did I love all of her choices? No. But no one is perfect, people make mistakes. And while her mistake was big… big that it crushed my heart, I also understood where she was coming from.

So yes, this is a second chance romance and there is a bit of a love triangle. I have to tell you that I loved Zo… absolutely adored every bit of that man—his soul, his heart, his love for Banner. I hope there is more story for him left to tell.

We are a match, an unlikely pair. Neither of us is fully seeing our worth. Not fully comprehending that our hearts were stitched together from the beginning with threads invisible to everyone else.

Kennedy Ryan astounds me with her writing. I devoured this book in a day. Her words and her stories are just magical and Block Shot is my new favorite of hers. Readers who love second chance romances, who love a cocky man who goes for what he wants and an intelligent woman who doesn’t back down—PLUS an epic romance that will give you all the feels should read this book.

I am a huge Kennedy Ryan fan and can’t wait to see what she has in store for us next!

I stretch my arm toward the wall and turn out the lights.

With the light snuffed out, my other senses rise, hunting for her in the dark. The smell of her hair and her quick, shallow breaths. My sight adjusts until the heavy black curtain completely obscuring her fades to gray. Light from the outer room spills under the door, revealing just the shape, the outline of her, but still camouflaging details. I cup her cheek, taking a moment to appreciate the softness of her skin, the silky hair brushing my knuckles. I’m not an idiot. She wants the lights out because she’s self-conscious, but from my perspective, she has nothing to be ashamed of.

“I think you’re beautiful, Ban.”

“You do?” she asks, her voice hushed.

My words surprise me as much as they seem to surprise her, because I don’t say shit like that to girls. The prettiest ones usually seem to already know, which makes any admiration I’d express redundant. But Banner . . . she’s so beautiful, and I’m not sure she knows.

“I do.” I push the hair away from her face.

“Uh . . . thank you.” Her laugh isn’t much more than a breath. “The lights are out, so I’m not sure that compliment counts.”

“I know your face by heart. You have seven freckles here.” I swipe a finger over the straight bridge of her nose and drift down to caress her full lips and the tiny dent in her cheek her smile displays. “And a dimple right here.”

I explore the smooth skin of her nape, under a heavy fall of hair.

“Now I want to know your body, too,” I say softly. “Take off your clothes for me, Banner.”

After a sharply indrawn breath, she raises her arms. The rustle of her clothes—the sweatshirt, jeans, socks, shoes—being discarded whisper in the dark. I approximate her by touch, reaching for her arms and closing my fingers around the softness, the velvety skin. I lower my head and run my nose along her neck, discovering.

“You always smell so good.” I’ve wanted to tell her that since the first night we studied here.

“Pretty Pastel,” she replies, her laugh low, nervous.

“What?” I pause.

“The smell. It’s my dryer sheets. The scent is Pretty Pastel.”

“I like it.” I resume my exploration, running a palm over her shoulder, her collarbone until I find the soft, full weight of her breasts, testing them in my hands, cupping them, holding them, brushing the nipples with my thumbs until they pebble and her breaths come harshly.

“You like that?” I ask.

I see her head nod in the semi-darkness. “Yeah. It feels good.”

Her touch startles me in the best way, her hand finding my face, traveling over my mouth, eyes, and hair. I sense her approach, feel tiny pants of breath on my lips, and anticipation has me panting, too, shortens my breath and sharpens my senses. Her mouth seeks mine, eager and sweet when she kisses me. Her pleasure, her excitement matches, answers, fans mine.

I guide her back down to the couch, and with a hand at her shoulder, urge her to stretch out. I’d shave points off my GPA for a glimpse of her, but she doesn’t want that. I get it, so I settle for a taste.

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