Writing a book is kind of like … by Kristina Mathews

Please help me welcome Kristina Mathews to my blog today and don’t forget to enter the drawing for a $25 gift card at the end of the blog.

Worth_the_Trade_2Writing a book is kind of like a baseball season. You want to start off with a bang, something to draw fans in and give them hope for an exciting finish. You have to have a great lineup, with players, I mean characters people feel good about rooting for. But it can’t be too easy along the way. There have to be ups and downs, thrilling victories and heartbreaking losses.

As a baseball fan, I’ve watched the San Francisco Giants start the 2014 season with high hopes for their third World Series this decade. There are a lot of reasons to be hopeful, with many of the players who brought them to victory in 2010 and 2012 still in the lineup. But with injuries to key players, a few replacements had to be made. They played well in April and May, going on an incredible run in May. They were playing so well, it was starting to look like nothing would stop them.

They came crashing down to earth in June, losing sixteen games and only winning ten. During that stretch, things couldn’t look any worse for the team who had pulled off so many exciting victories in previous years. Everything that could go wrong did. Starting pitching that had been so reliable for years wasn’t. The offense couldn’t get it going. The bullpen collapsed. Defensive mistakes were made. But it’s too early for the big black moment.

In a book, especially a romance, there has to be some uncertainty along the way. We all know there will be a happily ever after for the couple. But we wouldn’t keep turning the pages if there wasn’t at least some doubt. A couple can’t meet, go on a first date, never argue, and then say “I do.” It wouldn’t be a very satisfying story.

In Worth The Trade, Hunter Collins and Marco Santiago both want the same thing. They want to win the World Series. Hunter wants to prove to herself and the league that she can handle the pressures of being the only female owner in the league. Marco had been traded too many times, he wants to prove himself on the field in hopes a finding a long term deal.

It’s not an easy ride for either of them. Hunter is dealing with the loss of her father and the expectations of the league. Marco hits his worst slump at a time when he most wants to prove himself. There are twenty-four other guys counting on them both to get them to the ultimate victory.

They have some successes along the way. Bright spots in their relationship and the journey to the World Series. Even though Hunter presents herself as “one of the guys,” Marco sees her in a different light. He sees her as beautiful and feminine, and he shows this by buying her lingerie. Hunter has faith in her team, and especially in Marco.

Will they win it all?


After inheriting majority ownership of the San Francisco Goliaths baseball team, Hunter Collins wants to prove to herself and the rest of the league that she’s got what it takes to build a champion. Her first move is to trade for a hot left-fielder. He’s got it all, speed, power, and a desire to win. Not to mention undeniable charm.

Marco Santiago is tired of being the new player in town. This is his fourth team in six years and he’s facing free agency at the end of the season. He wants nothing more than a long-term contract. Hitting on his new owner probably isn’t the best way to secure his future with the team.

They’ll both give anything to get their team to the World Series, even their hearts.


As the last man off the bus, Marco was forced to watch his teammate fling himself into the arms of his awaiting bride. The woman who had been the force behind The Monk’s success this season.
Marco was almost able to brush away the envy. But standing next to Mrs. Scottsdale, was the one woman he was determined to forget. Hunter Collins.

What the hell was she doing here?

Other than the fact that it was her team, her bus, and her ballpark. Hell, for all he knew, she owned half the city. Including him.

Maybe he could slip past her. Get a cab back to the hotel and take the world’s longest, coldest shower.

“Marco.” Too late. She’d spotted him.

“Polo.” He tried to joke. To pretend her rejection hadn’t hurt. Hadn’t messed with his mind.

“Can I give you a ride to your hotel?” She smiled. A real, open and warm smile. Warning bells sounded in his head. He should run the other way. Catch a ride on the Muni. Walk. Take a cable car or hitchhike.

“Sure. Why not?” Damn. He wished he had his Mustang. Then he could drive his own sad self to the hotel. But it was still in St. Louis. Apparently along with his pride and his ability to hit a fastball.

“Great.” She smiled again. He wanted to go running to The Monk. To have the other man teach him the ways of the celibate competitor. But The Monk had his arms wrapped around his wife.
Marco shouldered his bag, following Hunter like a lemming going off to certain demise but unable to help himself.

She walked across the parking lot with determined steps. He supposed if she’d wanted him to get back on a plane to St. Louis, she would have met him at the airport. When she stopped in front of a red Mini Cooper convertible and disabled the alarm, he threw his head back and laughed.

“What?” She spun around so fast that a few strands of hair shook loose from her uptight hairdo.

“I just never would have matched you with this car.” It was red. And fast. And kind of sexy in an offbeat sort of way. “I would have pictured you as a BMW, Mercedes or… I don’t know, a Bentley kind of girl.”

“A Bentley?” She drew her brows together. She was cute. And far too sexy. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. Almost forgetting the vow he’d made to himself. The vow of forgetting her. “It seemed like a good guess. When you’re not riding around in a limo.”

“It’s fun to drive.” She didn’t really need to defend her vehicle choice, but she did anyway. “Easy to park, and on those really fabulous Northern California days, there’s nothing like driving a convertible up the coast.”

“But it’s red.” He swept his gaze over her gray pantsuit and ivory blouse and black shoes. Her outfit made the red car seem that much brighter.

Amazon: http://goo.gl/NnmWPr

Barnes & Noble: http://goo.gl/4kMT7q

Kobo: http://goo.gl/mNNhZl

GooglePlay: http://goo.gl/013rwR


Kristina Mathews doesn’t remember a time when she didn’t have a book in her hand. Or in her head. But it wasn’t until she turned forty that she confessed the reason the laundry never made it out of the dryer was because she was busy writing.

While she resigned from teaching with the arrival of her second son, she’s remained an educator in some form. As a volunteer, parent club member or para educator, she finds the most satisfaction working with emergent and developing readers, helping foster confidence and a lifelong love of books.

Kristina lives in Northern California with her husband of more than twenty years, two sons and a black lab. A veteran road tripper, amateur renovator and sports fanatic. She hopes to one day travel all 3,073 miles of Highway 50 from Sacramento, CA to Ocean City, MD, replace her carpet with hardwood floors and serve as a “Ball Dudette” for the San Francisco Giants.


a Rafflecopter giveaway

11 thoughts on “Writing a book is kind of like … by Kristina Mathews

  1. I enjoyed the post, Kristina. As a onetime Chicagoan and forever Cubs fan, I know what it’s like to see your team have a great start and come so close. If the Cubs ever made it all the way to win the world series, there would be icicles in hell. Ya gotta love the underdog. My best to you and the Giants…that is, unless they go up against the Cubs.

  2. Love your analogy, Kristina…. Not much a baseball fan, though. My sport is football, but I can relate to the need for a good lineup – my lifelong team is the Steelers…it’s either feast or famine with my boys…sigh.
    Oh, and great excerpt, too! Best of luck with your sales!

    • Lynda,
      I was an even bigger football fan in the 80’s and 90’s. The 49ers are still my team, but when I became pregnant with my first son, the injuries got to me. So of course, he’s sixteen and traded baseball for high school football.

      Thanks for stopping by, I’m glad you enjoyed the excerpt.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *