Benny Reed came back to Waypoint to rebuild a baseball
team, not to fall for Quinn Logan, the hometown girl turned global pop
sensation who once wrote songs about him. Keeping their distance should be
easy, but unresolved history, explosive chemistry, and nonstop attention from
everyone make it nearly impossible. Readers who love missed connections and
return-to-hometown romances will fall head over heels for Lineups and Lyrics by
Tina Gallagher, a steamy, small-town sports romance.
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Benny Reed has a plan. Quinn Logan isn’t part of it.
Managing an MLB team means building something from the
ground up, and that challenge is exactly what drew him back to Waypoint. He
knows the game. He knows the job. And he knows one rule that’s always served
him well: baseball and his personal life don’t mix.
Then he meets Quinn Logan.
She’s Waypoint born and raised.
She’s also a retired pop star with a name the world
recognizes.
He doesn’t remember the quiet girl from high school.
She remembers him—and the crush that inspired her first
songs.
Getting close is risky.
The town is watching.
The media won’t stay quiet.
And some connections don’t care about timing.
Lineups & Lyrics is a steamy small-town sports
romance about missed connections and unexpected love.
Excerpt
Copyright 2026, Tina Gallagher
Benny and I stepped into the elevator and the doors slid
shut. The car moved maybe two feet before a dull clang sounded and the motion
stopped dead. A single, half-hearted ding followed—less “arriving at your
floor” and more “I tried my best.”
I stared at the panel like it might offer an explanation.
Benny pressed one button, then another.
The lights flickered, then dimmed into a steady glow.
He hit the red emergency call button. A few seconds later,
the speaker crackled to life.
“Building security,” a tinny voice said. “Are you stuck in
an elevator?”
“Sure looks that way,” Benny said.
“All right. Maintenance will be there within the hour.”
The speaker clicked off, leaving only the hum of the fan.
Benny looked at me and exhaled a slow breath through his
nose. “Guess we’re not going anywhere for a bit.”
“Guess not.”
“Might as well get comfortable,” he said.
He pushed off the wall and sank to the floor, one leg
stretched out, forearm resting on his bent knee.
I hesitated for a second, then slid down the opposite wall.
The space between us felt smaller sitting like this, our legs only a couple of
feet apart.
“I like Dane and Marin,” I said.
“Yeah, I think they’ll work out well.” He rubbed the back of
his neck. “I’m glad Dane recommended her. She’s not someone I would’ve normally
looked at.”
“Because she’s a woman?” I asked, feigning a gasp.
“Partly,” he admitted, a half-smile tugging at his mouth.
“But mostly because her résumé isn’t what I’d usually go for. Most of her
experience is in travel ball and D3 college—not exactly the traditional path to
the majors.”
“Then why’d you hire her?”
“Because I trust Dane. And after talking to her, I believe
him when he says she’s the best.”
“She comes across calm and collected,” I said. “Like nothing
shakes her.”
“That was true until you walked in.”
“She was sweet.”
Silence stretched for a beat before he spoke again.
“I take it that happens a lot.”
“More than I ever knew how to handle,” I admitted. “And it
still feels strange. Underneath all of it, I’m just me.”
“You ever miss it? The stage, the spotlight?”
“Sometimes,” I said honestly. “I loved my fans and
performing for them. I loved the feeling of a song connecting with a stadium
full of people. The way a show can feel like everyone’s heartbeat syncing.” I
scratched lightly at my wrist, searching for the right words. “But the noise, the
scrutiny, the feeling that every breath had to be on display wore me down, and
I needed a break.”
“Everyone thinks they want the spotlight until they realize
how hot it gets.” His eyes met mine. “Still…walking away takes guts.”
“Or weak knees.” His brow lifted, amused. “I’m serious,” I
said, smiling despite myself. “Those final tour workouts nearly killed me.
Dancing in heels under stage lights at forty? That’s an Olympic sport.”
He laughed quietly, the sound low and easy. For a moment, it
felt lighter between us, like the conversation had traded its weight for
something simpler.
“You know, sitting here, it’s hard to picture you as the
same person who used to be on all those magazine covers.”
“That girl had a whole team behind her,” I said with a small
laugh. “The lighting, the styling, the editing—none of it ever felt like me. I
just look more like myself now.”
“Looks good on you,” he said. “The real version.”
The words landed softly but lingered. His gaze held, not
sharp, just…intent. Curious. Like he was trying to see all the parts of me I
kept tucked away.
“Thanks,” I managed, though my voice came out thinner than I
meant it to.
“You make it easy to forget you used to fill stadiums,” he
said.
“Good. I just want to be plain old Quinn.”
His mouth curved, slow and sure.
“There’s nothing plain about you, Quinn.”
My heart did an unhelpful fluttery thing, and I tried to
steady my breath. He didn’t look away, and I didn’t want him to.
“Benny—” I started, but whatever I meant to say vanished the
second his knee brushed mine. Funny how something so insignificant could change
the temperature of a room. Or, in this case, an elevator.
He leaned in, close enough that I could catch the warmth of
his skin and the faint, clean scent of his cologne. His gaze flicked to my
mouth, then back to my eyes, and for a beat the world felt balanced on that
breath between maybe and almost.
“Quinn,” he said, my name coming out rough, like gravel and
hesitation all at once.
The sound of it was enough to undo me a little. I shifted
forward just a fraction, and for a heartbeat, the world went perfectly still.
Then the elevator jolted hard. A metallic thunk echoed through the car as the
lights flickered back to full brightness.
The jolt sent me off balance, and I caught myself against
the wall. Benny blinked, then let out a short laugh.
“Perfect timing,” he said.
“Yeah.” My voice came out breathier than I wanted.
“Impeccable.”
Wait until I tell Erin the elevator cockblocked me out of
kissing Benny Reed.
About Tina Gallagher
Tina Gallagher grew up and continues to live in Northeast
Pennsylvania. As a tween, she and her best friend would create happily ever
afters for their favorite soap opera couples. Eventually, the soap operas lost
their appeal, but the writing never did. Before living her dream as a full-time
author, she worked a spectrum of jobs ranging from baking and cake decorating
to marketing and project management. In between creating memorable characters,
traveling, and taking pole dance lessons, Tina enjoys spending time with her
two grown children and Golden Irish named Thea.
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