I'm superstar Yankee's pitcher Rhett Bradshaw and like another famous Rhett, frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. I'm filthy rich, filthy mouthed, filthy on the mound and in the mound. I've never met a woman who didn't worship at the altar of my cleats. Opposing batters eat my smoke and scream for their mama as they swing through dead air. They'll never be running the bases on my watch. But with the lovely ladies…I'll take them around the bases and drive for home all day and all night long. I get everything I want whenever I want it.
But not her.
Beautiful, smart, Brenna Sinclair. My arch nemeses. She's a reporter for Sport Taste magazine and she's been charged with hating my guts. She relishes every single hit piece she writes about me containing a sensational headline in bold, black letters. And I give her plenty to write about. RHETT BRADSHAW TAKES NEW YORK BY THE CROTCH. Yeah, that one was my favorite. But she got beamed with my baseball. And now she doesn't remember anything. In spite of the fact that I know it's wrong, payback's a bitch. I'll make her fall madly in love me. And she'll squeal my name.
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