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Batter Up Pucker Up: A Little League Collection, #1
Batter Up Pucker Up: A Little League Collection, #1
Batter Up Pucker Up: A Little League Collection, #1
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Batter Up Pucker Up: A Little League Collection, #1

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For many young women, high school softball opens doors to a greater future. College, scholarships, professional sports.

The dream for so many...

But not for all.

From overbearing fathers to the big college decision, each story in this collection focuses on the heart, and the courage needed to follow your dreams. And just maybe, a spark of romance along the way. Included are "Prom Dates & Softball Bats," "Throw Like a Girl, Catch a Date," "Fly Away," "No Crying in Softball," and "More to Life than Softball."

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 20, 2018
ISBN9781386316435
Batter Up Pucker Up: A Little League Collection, #1
Author

Chrissy Wissler

Chrissy’s short fiction has appeared in the anthologies: Fiction River: Risk-Takers, Fiction River Presents: Legacies, Fiction River Presents: Readers' Choice, Deep Magic, and When Dreams Come True (writing as Christen Anne Kelley). She writes fantasy and science fiction, as well as a softball, contemporary series for both romance and young adult (Little League Series and Home Run). Before turning to fiction, Chrissy also wrote many nonfiction articles for publications such as Montana Outdoors, Women in the Outdoors, and Jakes Magazine. In 2009, Inside Kung Fu magazine awarded her with their ‘Writer of the Year’ award. Follow her blog on being a parent-writer at Parents and Prose.

Read more from Chrissy Wissler

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    Book preview

    Batter Up Pucker Up - Chrissy Wissler

    Batter Up Pucker Up

    Batter Up Pucker Up

    A Little League Collection

    Chrissy Wissler

    Blue Cedar Publishing

    Contents

    Introduction

    Prom Dates & Softball Bats

    Throw Like a Girl, Catch a Date

    Fly Away

    No Crying in Softball

    More to Life than Softball

    Enjoy your free book!

    About the Author

    The Little League Series

    Introduction

    From the moment you pick up a pen and think to yourself, I’d like to be a writer—

    Right from that moment on you’re hit with wonderful and helpful writing ‘advice.’ One of those golden nuggets of wisdom passed down from long-term pros is this: write what you know.

    Okay, you think. I know some stuff, but what do I really know?

    Me? I know softball. And sure it’s been some years since I threw my last curve ball or took out that unfortunate catcher who thought she’d honestly try and block home-plate from me. Really?? You’ve got to be kidding.

    So, I know softball, but so what? What about that all important story? Tough-as-nails-girls on the field may be interesting, but that’s not much of a page-turner.

    Throw in a dash of romance, however, and as a reader I’m hooked.

    These five stories came about because of a workshop I went to with Dean Wesley Smith and Kristine Kathryn Rusch where we wrote a short story that had to be young adult and a first kiss. Oh, and they had to be actual human beings too. No aliens, vampires, elves, ghosts—you get the idea. While that particular story isn’t in this collection, it pushed me to go to the one place I’d been afraid to visit: my softball days.

    In continuing with the tradition and pushing myself to write what I know, here are some stories of romance and softball.

    The first story in the collection, Prom Dates & Softball Bats, is when transfer student Jenny walks onto Sunny View High’s softball tryouts and finds a lot more than she bargained for. Lacey, team-heavy hitter and all around mean-girl, as well as her cute brother Jason (who also has this annoying habit of not leaving Jenny alone).

    But Lacey has her own story to tell and her own romance to live, which you’ll find in, Throw Like a Girl, Catch a Date. Who said the softball bullies can’t find true love?

    In, Fly Away, Elizabeth finds herself touring the Yale campus and trying to decide if this team is right for her. Her boyfriend back homes wants her to stay close, but she wonders if there’s something else for her, something like that dark, handsome guy by the fountain.

    Both stories, No Crying in Softball, and, More to Life than Softball, deal with girls who look beyond softball and the pre-destined career path laid out for them: play hard, get a scholarship, go to college. With a little help, and maybe a little love, both Heather and Sally find the courage to stand up for themselves and follow their dreams.

    I’m currently writing more softball stories and have finished the first novel in my Home Run Series, Home Run, which will be available in the Fall of 2011. Until then, remember to pull those knee-pads up, dust yourself off, and step up to the plate—both in softball, and in love.

    —Chrissy Wissler

    August, 2011

    Prom Dates & Softball Bats

    Prom Dates & Softball Bats

    Jenny, like any good pitcher, knew when to throw at a batter, knew when to throw a change-up pitch, and more importantly, knew her reflexes were top-notch for those line drive hits smacked right back at her head. And yes, like any good pitcher, she’d had plenty of practice .

    With Sunny View High School star player Lacey Starr (convenient last name, huh?) towering over Jenny, all six feet of legs and pure muscle, clenching the softball in her meaty paw, Jenny knew it was time to back down.

    At least this particular show-down hadn’t occurred in the middle of a game. Of course, having the coach arrive on time for try-outs would be nice.

    This is my team, Lacey growled. We don’t need some little upstart transfer kid playing on our field. We don’t need you and we sure as hell don’t want you.

    Her little posse—which also conveniently consisted of the entire team, including the lowly freshman bench warmers—snickered behind Lacey. A few even smacked fist into gloves for good measure.

    I’m here for the try-out. Jenny had the flyer safely tucked in her bat bag. She’d been through this routine before and would go through it again. The posting said ‘Walk-Ons Welcome’ unless Coach Steele changed her mind?

    Lacey frowned, her fingers twitching at her side.

    Damn. Jenny hadn’t even thrown a ball yet and already the team wanted to jump her.

    We don’t need you or your famous daddy anywhere near our field. Go home. Lacey leaned closer. The faint scent of stale sweat and dirt drifted from her.

    Jenny tried not to cough. Or faint. Lacey’s knee-pads probably hadn’t been washed in years.

    I came to play ball, Jenny said. I’m not leaving until Coach Steele asks me too.

    You leave or I’ll make you leave.

    Jenny raised her head. Then I guess you’ll have to make me.

    All 150 lbs.—give or take—of muscle leaped towards Jenny. She sidestepped, easy and graceful, and turned. Hands out in a fighting stance, perfectly balanced, waiting for the slow sweeping arc of a punch every amateur-idiot insisted on throwing.

    Except the punch never came. Actually, it couldn’t because Lacey’s arm was being held by a wrist, which was connected to a quite defined bicep, which was then attached to one of the cutest boys (if someone that tall could be considered a boy), Jenny had seen since moving to the Southern California coast.

    And if you’d ever visited a Southern California beach, you know that’s saying a lot.

    Lace, the boy rumbled, you’re not being very nice.

    Get your hand off me, Jason.

    Jason shook his head. You hit the new transfer student, on her first day no less, what do you think Mom’s gonna say?

    Lacey’s face reddened. Neither did it help her little support group had started whispering—and fawning over her apparently very hot brother. She’s not going to know. She’s not around to know.

    I’ll tell her.

    If you tell her I’ll break your—

    Okay! Jenny stepped forward, though didn’t step between the two fighting siblings; she wasn’t that stupid.

    Look. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I’m just here for the try-outs. I’m not here to steal someone’s position or knock them off the starter list.

    Okay, she was—at least that was her dad's reasons for her being here—but that really wasn’t the point. Not at the moment anyway.

    Lacey’s face, apparently forever stretched in the growl grimace, didn’t change.

    You want to hit me, go ahead, Jenny said. But I’m damn sure the Principal won’t like that and I’m damn sure you’ll be suspended for a few games if not half the season.

    Jenny crossed her arms over her chest. I’m not a senior like you. I have three more seasons to impress the college scouts. I can afford to sit out if I need too.

    It was a stupid thing to say. After all, who try to piss off a bull dog and then expected to live? Still, she’d said it anyway, fully expecting the full-force of an angry star pitcher and home run hitter, but Jason merely tightened his hold and Lacey…didn’t go anywhere.

    She tried though, pulling and straining her big muscles. Meanwhile the girls egged her on.

    A whistle, sharp and piercing, cut through the cheers and bets.

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