Sunday, March 7, 2021
Sunday's Sport Stats: Give Me More by Gen Ryan
Sometimes love is worth the risk.
Flynn Coleman has spent his entire life playing professional baseball. When an injury forces him into physical therapy, he fears he’ll never play again.
Sean Myers is a recent college graduate with a love of sports and a new degree in physical therapy. When offered an internship at a prestigious rehab facility, he stumbles upon his favorite baseball player and crush, Flynn Coleman.
Sparks fly and both men are unable to deny the attraction between them.
When Flynn makes Sean a proposition he can’t refuse, will they be able to survive with their careers and hearts intact?
Baseball has been Flynn Coleman's entire life but when an injury requires physical therapy he fears it could be career ending. Sean Meyers has landed an internship of his dreams but when his new client is none other than his favorite ballplayer and crush, Flynn Coleman he fears being able to table said crush. Mutual attraction runs high but will they stick to professionalism or will they take that forbidden leap?
With baseball season just around the corner, Give Me More is a perfect read for lovers of the sport but the heat and connection between Flynn and Sean make this an equally perfect read for those who may not be fans of the game but are fans of a well written tale of forbidden love. Okay, "forbidden" may be too strong a word choice but crossing that line between therapist and client/patient is definitely not morally doable but it certainly adds just the right dash of spice. Being a fan of baseball myself, Give Me More just added a little dose of "YAY" to my day as football is nearly done and here in Wisconsin winter is still with no end in sight, this short story/novella just put a smile on my face.
As for Flynn and Sean, well its pretty obvious that their attraction is there from the very first meeting and although I would have loved to seen their story grow with perhaps more time and to see where their future lead, there is only so much you can put into a short tale. Quite frankly I found it to be the perfect length, now having said that if we were to revisit the pair and see where they are five or ten years down the road I would be first in line to read it but if this is all we see of Flynn and Sean, its a well written tale that put a smile on my face and I can't ask for more than that. Give Me More is the first time I've read this author making for a great introduction and I will definitely be keeping Gen Ryan's work in my sights.
RATING:
Flynn
My ears buzzed. My entire body tightened in frustration. The past week I’d drowned myself in any bottle of alcohol I could find. It made everything numb—the pain, my mind. It all faded away as the alcohol swirled inside my stomach.
“Flynn, are you listening? You have multiple fractures in your scapula. Surgery is the only option.”
I pounded my fist on the exam table. Coach jumped up and glared at me.
“Surgery? You mean placing pins in my shoulder and doubling my recovery time?” I shook my head. “Not an option. I need to be ready for the season.”
Coach motioned for the doctor to leave. Here it comes, the lecture of a lifetime. I slumped back against the table.
“Coleman, this is what has to happen if there’s any hope that you’ll make a recovery.”
I snickered. Hope. I never was one to believe in that shit. I was bitter, broken in every sense of the word, and now I had to have hope?
“Bullshit. There’s no guarantee that this will make it so I can play again. You’re asking that I trust that doctor with my life!” I raised my voice, my chest heaving with all the fears I’d drowned in alcohol all week. “Baseball’s my life.”
Coach patted my leg. “I know, son. Do everything you can to get back to your life. Have faith.”
I rubbed my eyes, hoping this all was a bad dream that I’d wake up from.
“I can’t see faith. I can’t hold it in my hands like a bat and feel its weight against me. It doesn’t exist. I trust you though, Coach. What should I do?”
“Trust the doctor. Have the surgery.”
I called the doctor back into the room. With one last reassuring nod from Coach, I knew what was best.
“Let’s do it.”
The doctor continued to talk about the surgery and what to expect. I was terrified. My entire life I’d taken chances, straddling the line between the right and wrong sides of the law. That was nothing compared to what was in front of me. I wasn’t a patient man. Having to wait months to see if the procedure had worked was going to be torture. But for the love of the game, I’d being willing to do anything to be home again. My team was the only true family I’d ever had. Playing ball was the only place where I felt like I belonged.
I pulled up to the rehab facility, grinding my teeth. I didn’t want to be here, mixed with others who were suffering through some injury. Others who felt sorry for themselves. I’d had enough self-pity to last a lifetime.
My surgery had gone well, but the true test would be these next months. My doctor wanted me to start rehab as soon as possible to increase my odds of a full recovery. I wanted to stay holed up in my house and drown my sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. But here I was, ready to torture myself for however long it took.
“Go in there and show them that Coleman motivation. Put your all into it and give ‘em hell.” Coach tried to encourage me as I stepped out of the car. I clutched the door, wanting to say ‘fuck it all’ and head home.
“You got it, Coach.”
I slammed the car door and Coach drove off, leaving me to handle this shit on my own. Get your head in the game, Coleman. You got this. I did a quick little jump around, gearing myself up. I figured if I treated this like I approached a baseball game I was bound to do well.
“Jesus.” A man stumbled on the sidewalk, the papers in his briefcase flying everywhere. I bent over to help him gather his stuff, nursing my bad shoulder. He stood, his glasses balancing on his nose like at any second they’d slip right off. They were wide-rimmed and black, almost hiding the green of his eyes. Pushing them up with his finger, he gave me a smile.
“Thanks,” he said, a slight blush creeping on his tanned cheeks. I did a quick once-over, trying not to be too obvious that I was checking him out. He was attractive. Not like the extremely fit guys that I went for. But his glasses made him look innocent and his damn nervous smile was contagious. For a minute, all my troubles seemed to disappear as I watched him try to get himself together.
I tried to keep my personal life out of the media, but rumors had flown around that I was gay. I never confirmed or denied them, letting people play out what they wanted in their mind. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was. I’d gotten enough ass-whoopings in my lifetime from my father, who’d told me he wouldn’t raise a faggot for a son. Despite that, I embraced who I was and had the scars to prove it.
I had taken to the streets to support myself when my father kicked me out. Then Coach had found me on the field in high school and my life had changed. I hadn’t had much time to date since signing with the Blue Hawks, but I had fun. I loved having fun.
This man in front of me looked like he was fresh out of high school. His face held a youthfulness I remembered from when I first started playing baseball. He smiled, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.
“You’re Flynn Coleman. I’m a huge fan.” He looked at my shoulder and frowned. “I was so disappointed when I heard about your shoulder.”
“You and me both.”
He kept shuffling between his feet and averting his gaze.
What I wouldn’t give to screw that nervousness right out of him.
I itched for the control that I exerted in the bedroom. It was the same control I had on the field. Holding the bat, feeling its hardness, was just like how I approached sex. I had to be gentle at first but once I got loosened up, it was game on. I loved a soft cock in my hand with just my touch bringing it to life. I needed that feeling, that control again, any way I could get it.
“Do you work here?” I wanted to keep him engaged, find out just how big a fan he was. I didn’t usually mess around with fans. That could end disastrously. But I was out of the media for now due to my injury, and off the radar, so to speak. Maybe a little fling was just what the doctor ordered. Control. Release of frustration.
“Kind of. I’m an intern.” He mumbled something as he adjusted his bag again.
“Nice. Interning at a big rehab facility. You must be good.” I stretched out my arm, the dull ache I’d become accustomed to annoying the hell out of me.
“Well, I’m not the Flynn Coleman of this place but someday I hope to be.” He blushed again and rubbed his hand down his suspenders. It was so fucking cute how nervous he was around me. I’d had many fans clam up and get nervous but it was the combination of his glasses and suspenders that captivated me. He reminded me of Clark Kent. I was a huge Superman fan.
“I’m Sean by the way. Sean Myers.” He wiped his hand on his pants before holding it out.
I shook his hand, gripping it a little too hard. “I’ve got to head in for my appointment. See you around, Sean Myers?”
“Oh. Yeah. S-sure,” he stuttered. With a laugh, I waved, walking through the double doors. I glanced back as he stared in my direction, shaking his head in disgust. I grinned as he caught me staring, his lips curving into a nervous grin. I wasn’t looking forward to my months here in rehab but if I got to see Sean every day, my recovery had just gotten more interesting.
My balls ached, my dick twitching against my pants at the thought of seeing him again. He seemed innocent, way more so than I was used to. I thought of all the things I could do to him, stripping away the glasses and suspenders, showing him what some fun could add to his life. I needed a distraction, someone to take my mind off the possibility that baseball might be my past and no longer my future. Sean seemed to be just what I needed.
My ears buzzed. My entire body tightened in frustration. The past week I’d drowned myself in any bottle of alcohol I could find. It made everything numb—the pain, my mind. It all faded away as the alcohol swirled inside my stomach.
“Flynn, are you listening? You have multiple fractures in your scapula. Surgery is the only option.”
I pounded my fist on the exam table. Coach jumped up and glared at me.
“Surgery? You mean placing pins in my shoulder and doubling my recovery time?” I shook my head. “Not an option. I need to be ready for the season.”
Coach motioned for the doctor to leave. Here it comes, the lecture of a lifetime. I slumped back against the table.
“Coleman, this is what has to happen if there’s any hope that you’ll make a recovery.”
I snickered. Hope. I never was one to believe in that shit. I was bitter, broken in every sense of the word, and now I had to have hope?
“Bullshit. There’s no guarantee that this will make it so I can play again. You’re asking that I trust that doctor with my life!” I raised my voice, my chest heaving with all the fears I’d drowned in alcohol all week. “Baseball’s my life.”
Coach patted my leg. “I know, son. Do everything you can to get back to your life. Have faith.”
I rubbed my eyes, hoping this all was a bad dream that I’d wake up from.
“I can’t see faith. I can’t hold it in my hands like a bat and feel its weight against me. It doesn’t exist. I trust you though, Coach. What should I do?”
“Trust the doctor. Have the surgery.”
I called the doctor back into the room. With one last reassuring nod from Coach, I knew what was best.
“Let’s do it.”
The doctor continued to talk about the surgery and what to expect. I was terrified. My entire life I’d taken chances, straddling the line between the right and wrong sides of the law. That was nothing compared to what was in front of me. I wasn’t a patient man. Having to wait months to see if the procedure had worked was going to be torture. But for the love of the game, I’d being willing to do anything to be home again. My team was the only true family I’d ever had. Playing ball was the only place where I felt like I belonged.
* * * * *
I pulled up to the rehab facility, grinding my teeth. I didn’t want to be here, mixed with others who were suffering through some injury. Others who felt sorry for themselves. I’d had enough self-pity to last a lifetime.
My surgery had gone well, but the true test would be these next months. My doctor wanted me to start rehab as soon as possible to increase my odds of a full recovery. I wanted to stay holed up in my house and drown my sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. But here I was, ready to torture myself for however long it took.
“Go in there and show them that Coleman motivation. Put your all into it and give ‘em hell.” Coach tried to encourage me as I stepped out of the car. I clutched the door, wanting to say ‘fuck it all’ and head home.
“You got it, Coach.”
I slammed the car door and Coach drove off, leaving me to handle this shit on my own. Get your head in the game, Coleman. You got this. I did a quick little jump around, gearing myself up. I figured if I treated this like I approached a baseball game I was bound to do well.
“Jesus.” A man stumbled on the sidewalk, the papers in his briefcase flying everywhere. I bent over to help him gather his stuff, nursing my bad shoulder. He stood, his glasses balancing on his nose like at any second they’d slip right off. They were wide-rimmed and black, almost hiding the green of his eyes. Pushing them up with his finger, he gave me a smile.
“Thanks,” he said, a slight blush creeping on his tanned cheeks. I did a quick once-over, trying not to be too obvious that I was checking him out. He was attractive. Not like the extremely fit guys that I went for. But his glasses made him look innocent and his damn nervous smile was contagious. For a minute, all my troubles seemed to disappear as I watched him try to get himself together.
I tried to keep my personal life out of the media, but rumors had flown around that I was gay. I never confirmed or denied them, letting people play out what they wanted in their mind. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was. I’d gotten enough ass-whoopings in my lifetime from my father, who’d told me he wouldn’t raise a faggot for a son. Despite that, I embraced who I was and had the scars to prove it.
I had taken to the streets to support myself when my father kicked me out. Then Coach had found me on the field in high school and my life had changed. I hadn’t had much time to date since signing with the Blue Hawks, but I had fun. I loved having fun.
This man in front of me looked like he was fresh out of high school. His face held a youthfulness I remembered from when I first started playing baseball. He smiled, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.
“You’re Flynn Coleman. I’m a huge fan.” He looked at my shoulder and frowned. “I was so disappointed when I heard about your shoulder.”
“You and me both.”
He kept shuffling between his feet and averting his gaze.
What I wouldn’t give to screw that nervousness right out of him.
I itched for the control that I exerted in the bedroom. It was the same control I had on the field. Holding the bat, feeling its hardness, was just like how I approached sex. I had to be gentle at first but once I got loosened up, it was game on. I loved a soft cock in my hand with just my touch bringing it to life. I needed that feeling, that control again, any way I could get it.
“Do you work here?” I wanted to keep him engaged, find out just how big a fan he was. I didn’t usually mess around with fans. That could end disastrously. But I was out of the media for now due to my injury, and off the radar, so to speak. Maybe a little fling was just what the doctor ordered. Control. Release of frustration.
“Kind of. I’m an intern.” He mumbled something as he adjusted his bag again.
“Nice. Interning at a big rehab facility. You must be good.” I stretched out my arm, the dull ache I’d become accustomed to annoying the hell out of me.
“Well, I’m not the Flynn Coleman of this place but someday I hope to be.” He blushed again and rubbed his hand down his suspenders. It was so fucking cute how nervous he was around me. I’d had many fans clam up and get nervous but it was the combination of his glasses and suspenders that captivated me. He reminded me of Clark Kent. I was a huge Superman fan.
“I’m Sean by the way. Sean Myers.” He wiped his hand on his pants before holding it out.
I shook his hand, gripping it a little too hard. “I’ve got to head in for my appointment. See you around, Sean Myers?”
“Oh. Yeah. S-sure,” he stuttered. With a laugh, I waved, walking through the double doors. I glanced back as he stared in my direction, shaking his head in disgust. I grinned as he caught me staring, his lips curving into a nervous grin. I wasn’t looking forward to my months here in rehab but if I got to see Sean every day, my recovery had just gotten more interesting.
My balls ached, my dick twitching against my pants at the thought of seeing him again. He seemed innocent, way more so than I was used to. I thought of all the things I could do to him, stripping away the glasses and suspenders, showing him what some fun could add to his life. I needed a distraction, someone to take my mind off the possibility that baseball might be my past and no longer my future. Sean seemed to be just what I needed.
Gen Ryan is an international best-selling author that spends her days as a forensic psychologist filling the minds of college students with everything they need to know to be good at their jobs. From profiling, to interrogation and ending with her absolute favorite, serial killers. Her nights, however, are spent crafting stories that will tear a reader’s heart out and twist their minds at the same time.
She brings a unique twist to romance, a twist always rooted somewhere deep inside the character’s psyche.
iTUNES / BOOKBUB / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: genryan15@yahoo.com
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