Love. Marriage. Babies.*
*Not necessarily in that order.
I got hit in the head with a baseball. A damn home run. I didn’t even see it coming.
The next thing I know, I’m in the hospital with a headache but that’s not all…
There’s an idiot doctor standing in front of me telling me I’m pregnant.
Who’s the father, you ask? The damn baseball player that hit the ball.
Hunter Novak. Home Run Hunter himself — but that’s not the name he gave me when he took me home with him from that bar six weeks ago.
Call it coincidence. Call it fate.
I call it a pain in my ass.
For the first time in my life, I’m responsible for someone other than myself. This baby deserves to grow up with a real family. It can’t get that from me and my one-night stand. Or can it?
I barely know Hunter. We skipped to the end before but now we have to start from the beginning.
How is that even possible now that a tiny heartbeat is involved?