by Caryl McAdoo
A Red River Romance
Book Three
Praying my story gives god glory!
5-Star Reviews
This reader absolutely loved the hero, Gij, and heroine, Sammi Dan. Faster than a major league outfielder pulling down a popup fly ball, Caryl McAdoo’s romance is guaranteed to snag baseball lovers and romance readers alike. This Christian story is written with wit, verve and Caryl McAdoo’s usual flare for dialect and spicy dialogue. Be warned. Those readers searching for a saccharine, man-meets-woman story will soon discover this is no sanitized romantic fairy tale. From the beginning, the reader will identify with real people who live clearly in the mind, so much so, that a person can almost smell locker room sweat or the mouthwatering scent of spicy Mexican food. Identification with the hero and heroine is nearly immediate. With so much to rave about, this review cannot begin to cover all the delightful surprises, so the reader simply must buy “One and Done” to see for themselves.
--Cass Wessel, a Pennsylvania reader
Caryl has done it again. Another wonderful story with characters and a story line that had me hooked from the first pages. The author also gives a fun glimpse into the world of professional baseball and the players. It was enjoyable reading about G. H., a ball player, and Sammi, a TV reporter, and following their ups and downs in their spiritual journeys as they discover their love for each other. I was given a copy of this book in return for an honest review, and it is another one"" from this author that I definitely recommend."
--Ann Ellison, Texas reader
One
And Done
Caryl MCAdoo
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, places, characters, and events are products of the author’s imaginations, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
2015 by Caryl McAdoo
All rights reserved including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever- except short passages for reviews – without express permission. For information, address Post Office Box 622, Clarksville, Texas, 75426.
First Edition
July, 2015
Printed and bound in the United States of America
ISBN 13 978-1512-0141-81
ISBN10 151-2014-184
Cover Art by
Author’s photograph by The Farmer’s Wife Photography, Angela Greenwell, Frankston, Texas
Inquiries for volume purchases of this book may be directed to
Post Office Box 622, Clarksville, Texas 75426
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Epilogue
Caryl’s Other Books
Coming Soon
Recipes
Dedication
Always, I pray my story gives God glory, and so I dedicate One and Done to Him and to the advancement of His Kingdom.
Without His gifts and grace, I’d have no stories. His everlasting, never ending, unfailing love continues to overwhelm me daily, that He chose me. I love and adore my Abba, His Son, and Holy Spirit beyond words.
Also always is my Ron. I’ve loved him since we were sixteen and remember once him writing ‘I look forward to seeing eighty together.’ That seemed like forever away. Now it’s only fifteen years in the future.
If Yeshuah Ha Mashiach (Jesus the Messiah) tarries, looks like we’re going to make it, due in part to His love and faithfulness. And Ron’s, too. Hopefully, One and Done’s baseball theme honors my sweetheart’s fifteen-plus years of coaching our sons and grandsons as T-ballers and on up.
I’d also like to dedicate this third Red River Romance to all the wonderful young players who called him Coach: Matt, Greg, Russell, Seth, Matthew, Gregory, Christian, and Benjamen—all McAdoos—and all the rest, both friends and family.You know who you are, but I don’t want to leave anyone out…so not including names!
Many are grown now, some with children and some even with grandchildren! They all gave me years of entertainment, and I enjoyed being Team Mom and later Team Grami and even the Concessions Stand Lady, too. If I had a nickel for every game I’ve watched….
All of Caryl’s Books
Historical Christian Texas Romances
Vow Unbroken
Hearts Stolen
Hope Reborn
Sins of the Mothers
Contemporary Christian Red River Romances
The Preacher’s Faith
Sing a New Song
Contemporary Mature Inspirational Apple Orchard Romances
Lady Luck’s a Loser
Biblical fiction The Generations
A Little Lower Than the Angels
Then the Deluge Comes
Mid-Grade River Bottom Ranch Stories
The Adventures of Sergeant Socks
The Journey Home
The Bravest Heart
Amazing Graci, Guardian of Goats
Miscellaneous Novels
The Thief of Dreams (PG-17, written for secular readers)
The Price Paid (WWII military, based on true experiences)
Absolute Pi (audio only)
Apple Orchard B&B (re-released as Lady Luck’s a Loser)
Non-fiction
Great Firehouse Cooks of Texas
Antiquing in North Texas
Story & Style, The Craft of Writing Creative Fiction
Acknowledgement
There is none greater, no one to compare with my Father in Heaven from whom all blessings flow. He deserves all the glory and honor! Thank You, Abba.
My best friend, high school sweetheart, and husband keeps me steady and on course. He loves me, leads me, supports me, and encourages me. I cannot imagine a day of life without him in it. Thank you, Ron.
So many people help me perfect this book to its very best like Cassandra Wessell, Christine Barber, and Louise Koiner! Great catches, ladies, thank you! And Lenda Selph who has remained faithful even though I’ve got this crazy schedule of releasing a book each month this year! Thank you so much, Lenda! My God-sent proofreaders.
And many thanks to everyone who reads for edits and reviews, who helps spread the word when a new release comes out. I need y’all and thank y’all and know God will bless y’all for blessing me!
My cup literally overflows!
Thank you.
Author Caryl McAdoo would be pleased to have any contact with readers!
The Caryler, newsletter: http://carylmcadoo.com/sign-up-to-the-caryler/
Facebook: www.facebook.com/CarylMcAdoo.author
Also at Goodreads, Amazon, LinkedIn and Twitter!
CHAPTER
onE
“Hey. Weather Girl.”
Sammi Dan stopped in her tracks. Crackers, what did he want? With a million and two things to do, she did not need distractions this morning. She turned. Her boss stood at the end of the hall just outside his office waving a brown paper envelope. Mister Yancy had hardly said four words to her in the year she’d been with KBTL.
She stepped toward him. “Yes, sir? Is there a storm? Because if there is, I swear, I didn’t hear a thing about it.”
“You’re the one with the guy’s name, right?”
Oh, okay, here we go. “Yes, sir. Well, my parents named me Samantha Danielle, but most everyone calls me Sam. Or Sammi Dan.”
He grinned. “I thought so. Joe says you like baseball. That right? You know some of the basics?”
So, he and the sportscaster had been talking about her. Could it be about the open slot in sports? She’d love that! Oooo, or maybe the company box? She’d remember to give the ex-quarterback sportscaster a big thank you kiss if he’d put in a good word for her. She added a touch of intentional pep. “Yes, sir. All my life.” She closed the distance to a few feet, didn’t want to seem too eager to get his Rangers tickets.
Though none of the other girls had complained about the general manager, Sammi Dan’s guard hairs stood at attention on the suspicion. Just in case, she better say something. No need for any awkward misunderstandings. Best policy she’d found? Be firm and honest right up front.
“Your passport up to date?”
Passport? She nodded as a tsunami slammed her backwards. No box seats, no sports position, not even a little harassment. There was a storm. Oh, baloney! She hated covering hurricanes. “Yes, sir.” She hadn’t meant for that to sound quite so dejected. “Where do you need me?”
He stuck out the envelope. “Take What’s-her-name from the bullpen with you. This might be good. Joe caught wind of a rookie phenom the Rangers are hot after. He’s pitching tomorrow night in Mexico City. Be there. Get ahead of this story for us.”
She took the offering. “Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir. But…why me? I’m the weather girl.”
“I know who you are. Your numbers are trending.” He backed toward his office.
“Well? You want to go or not?”
“Yes, of course. Very much so, sir. Thank you. I mean for thinking of me. Woo! I am plenty excited about this, I can tell you.”
He didn’t even crack a smile. What a geezer!
“There’s a Visa in there.” He pointed to the packet. “But best be wary of the sharks in accounting.”
A company card! What a wonderful old, generous geezer. “Yes, sir. And thank you for your confidence in me. I’ll not let you down, Mr. Yancy.”
He waved her off like getting a shot at sports meant nothing and retreated to his office. Must be nice being GM of DFW’s biggest television station. She spun around then turned back. What’s her name in the bullpen? Okay, that left her choices wide open. Hmm, who’d be the most fun camera girl to fly south with?
Or should she choose a guy?
Exactly six hours and forty-seven minutes later, Sammi Dan flopped down on one of the Hilton’s double beds as though a kid again. Wow, she could hardly believe how fast it all happened. But there she was!
April What’s-her-name Meadows stood in front of the dresser and smirked, unpacking her suitcase into the drawers. “Shouldn’t we hurry up and get ready and go back downstairs? Aren’t we running out of time?”
“Oh, girlfriend, lighten up for the sake of the team, will you? You’re not being any fun.” Sammi Dan pointed to the little refrigerator. “See what they’ve got to drink in there. And if there’s any chocolate.”
Her camera girl slash producer slash assistant shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. I’ve already made arrangements for you to do a preliminary with this G. H. Johnson guy in exactly.” She slid her phone open. “Fifty-two minutes in the lobby.”
“Heavens to Mergatroid, girl, that’s almost an hour away. Why the rush?”
“Whatever. You’re supposed to be the talent here, Sam. Don’t you want to freshen up, get downstairs early for a lay of the lobby—choose the perfect shot for your interview? Or do you plan on lounging there sucking up the AC and drinking tequila with your chocolate truffles?”
Sammi Dan sat up and huffed. Logical April was right of course, but she sure knew how to spoil a perfectly great trip to Mexico City. Should have asked Christie, she wouldn’t be such a stick in the quicksand. Sammi got up and rifled through her bag.
“I don’t know why you’re unpacking. What’s the point when we’re only spending one night? We do leave tomorrow after the game on the red-eye, right? They could’ve let us fly home the next morning, but no, the sharks in accounting didn’t want to spring for two nights.” If only she weren’t just the weather girl.
G. H. Johnson showed early, but Sammi Dan had gotten there earlier. She loved that.
Her chosen place for her first-ever interview offered a lovely tropical backdrop of palm trees, ferns, and falling water. She stood and stuck out her hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Johnson, and thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me. I’m Samantha Danielle Davenport from KBTL in Dallas. Won’t you have a seat?”
“I know who you are.”
He did? How in the world?
The man shook her hand with a firm grip, but didn’t try to hurt her, then sat in the chair she’d indicated. “Why’d they send the weather girl?”
She looked at the towering ceiling and shook her head ever so slightly. Why, oh why? She’d hoped no one in Mexico would be privy to that little tidbit. “Apparently, I’m trending up, and the word got out on how much I love baseball. Border on fanatic. Anyway, let’s talk about you. Were you named George Herman after the Babe?”
“Yes and no.” He pointed toward April. “Shouldn’t she be taking some video?”
“Yes, of course. I mean if you don’t mind. This is just a preliminary, but we might as well get some footage.” She spun toward her camera gal. “Go ahead, we might want to splice some of this in.” When the little red light on the camcorder glowed, she turned back to him. “I’ll ask you again, okay?”
“Sure.”
“So, Mister Johnson, were you –”
“Please, call me G. H.”
She forced a smile. Why couldn’t he just co-operate? “Alright, good. So were you named after the great Babe Ruth, G. H.?”
“Yes and no. My full name is George Herman Walter Johnson. Pappaw wasn’t sure what I was going to be, a slugger or a hurler.”
“Your grandfather named you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sure did.”
“Well, my notes call you the next Walter Johnson. Says here the radar guns clocked you at over a hundred miles an hour.” She pouted her bottom lip and shrugged. “Hate to bring up your somewhat rocky start, but after that, you’re six-and-0 in your last half-dozen games with an ought ERA. Care to comment?”
He didn’t say anything for a minute.
She waited then glanced at April. Her red light still glowed. Sammi looked back to the pitcher.
He squinted. “Are your eyes always that green? Or are you wearing contacts? They don’t come across so electric on the television.”
Her face immediately heated, but she wouldn’t let him get the best of her. No way. “Yes, that green. No contacts, sir, all naturelle. And I don’t know about the electric part, but yes, they do look just like this on TV; you must not have high def. Now the comment I’m looking for, Mister Johnson, is on your last six starts. What happened?”
“Well, two things. I found the strike zone and a straight change.”
“Are you excited about joining the Rangers?”
�
�Am I now?” He grinned. “Isn’t a done deal yet. How old are you?”
This guy was incredible. What a flirt. And on camera, too.
He leaned forward and seemed to be checking her notes. “It’s a fair question, you know my age.” He pointed. “Right there, the year, month, and day.”
She leaned away from him and glanced at April again and gave her a can-you-believe-this-guy head shake. But Sammi Dan’s usual twenty-nine answer refused to pass her lips. For some reason, she didn’t want to lie to this guy. “That’s a silly question. Why would you even want to know?”
“Just curious to see if I’m going to be breaking one of my rules or not.”
Her face burned, and her interview flew out the window. She forgot all about the filming. “You have rules? Who do you think you are? Leroy Jethro Gibbs?”
“Ah, you like NCIS, too. Number eight, I usually don’t date older women, but in your case…yep…I’d make an exception. I’ve got to meet with my agent tonight, but what say we have dinner together after the game tomorrow?” He looked at April. “Want me to ask one of the hombres to join us?”
“Oh, no. I’ll be fine. You two go ahead.”
Sammi Dan gave his shoulder a little push, maybe more of a shove. “I’d love to. That’ll be great, but I want April to come.”
“Who’s April?”
She turned off her camera and hung it at her side. “I am. Miss Davenport’s producer, but I do not have to go—nor do I want to.”
“Hey, I know y’all came for the interview, and you’re welcome to shoot a quick one after the game.” He looked to Sammi Dan. “I apologize for fooling around here, but four’s a double date, three’s a crowd.”
