by Amy Daws
And if these past few months have taught me anything, it’s that family isn’t about genetics, or DNA, or even the people who raised you—family is about who you love and who loves you.
Family over bullshit.
Daphney
“We’re literally taking a bath in Bath.” Zander chuckles, pulling me back against his chest as I step into the giant soaker tub.
I snuggle into his arms as bubbles pop and fizz around our bodies. Zander’s season is finally over, and he surprised me with this gorgeous little period retreat in Bath. We hopped on a train yesterday, spent the entire day in bed today, and are finally thinking about cleaning ourselves up to check out the historical village. That is, if we can be bothered to put on some clothes when we’re done here. I dare say, laying in a tub with this man as his lips tease the shell of my ear every time he talks sounds better than a dinner out.
This place is apparently where Santino and Tilly went on their honeymoon. Zander got all the details from Santino after they had their big meeting last week to determine if he would stay at Bethnal Green or go play for another club.
Zander has spent the last couple of months trying to decide if leaving the club would be a good idea after all. Not because of issues with Vaughn, Tanner, and Booker, but because he wondered if he might have a better experience getting to know them away from the football pitch.
However, Bethnal Green seems to be in a bit of transition. Shortly after Vaughn made his long-awaited retirement announcement, Coach Zion shocked everyone by accepting an offer at another club leaving two very large vacancies at Bethnal Green.
I don’t think anyone was surprised when Tanner Harris was offered the head coaching position. Now we’re all awaiting an announcement for who will be the new manager. It’ll have to be a strong person to handle the personality of Tanner.
Regardless, that still left Zander in the position of playing for his family, and he wasn’t sure that was a wise move. He doesn’t know a family like the Harrises, who literally do everything together. Last weekend, they all attended Sophia’s footy tournament. There were so many people taking photos, I actually felt bad for the girls playing their arses off on the pitch. The Harrises are in no way inconspicuous. I could see why Zander might want a little space from them since he grew up in a small family and isn’t used to being a part of such a ruckus.
However, Booker Harris can be very convincing and he’s apparently a master at grand gestures. He made it very well known that he wanted Zander to stay at Bethnal Green. In fact, he came up with a whole presentation at Tower Park that involved all the Harris grandchildren. It was like a weird little sporty variety show where all the children marched up and presented their memorized line that included a reason for why Zander must stay at Bethnal Green.
It ended with Booker’s twins fighting and one of them hurting their wrist enough to go to the hospital for an X-ray, but Zander got the message: Bethnal Green one, other football club nil.
The true deciding factor, however, was more than likely the incredible extended contract offer that Santino and Tanner presented to Zander. Apparently, there had been interest from other clubs for Zander, and Bethnal Green wanted to ensure he would be very happy wearing green and white for the foreseeable future.
I thought I had a good idea of what footballers made. I was wrong.
“We’ll have to take more little trips like this now that you’ve decided to stay at Bethnal Green, and we don’t have to worry about you getting transferred to a club far, far away anytime soon.”
“I was never going to a club far away,” Zander growls into my ear and reaches under the water to punish one of my unsuspecting nipples.
I squeal and shove his hand off me, my body heating with arousal at that little point of pressure. My God, I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve had sex in that adorable little four-poster bed. When will I get enough?
“Don’t you discipline me,” I say, my hands dipping under the water to slide underneath his muscular legs that are propped up on either side of me. “I’m still cross at you for trying to move out of our building.”
“Well, you weren’t speaking to me,” Zander argues, and even though we’re teasing each other, I can hear the pain in his voice. “I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally.”
He had to have been in a very dark place to call Santino and request a team transfer and then ask my brother to break his lease agreement. All this while he was having an incredible season with Bethnal Green. I hate that I put Zander through all of that pain by not just forgiving him right away, but I guess we had to have some bumps in the road to find ourselves on the right path in the end.
Honestly, the past few months of going to Sunday dinners at Vaughn’s house with Zander feels as if he was always a part of that family. He fits in so easily with everyone, and they’ve wasted no time bringing him into different portions of their lives. He’s even volunteering at several of Gareth’s youth football camps this summer. If it weren’t for Zander’s American accent, I’d have thought he really did grow up with the Harris Brothers.
My brothers have even become rather matey with Zander. It helped that he came home to Essex with me a month ago for my niece Marisa’s birthday and gave both her and Rocky tickets to see The Lion King. The bonus present was that it would be Zander and me taking the girls to the musical in the West End, giving Mummy and Daddy a proper night off. It was a genius idea on Zander’s part. If ever there was a way to win over my two brothers, that was it.
My ovaries practically did the salsa when I saw Zander holding the hands of my little nieces as we walked into the theater. He was wearing a suit, and the girls were wearing matching dresses that my sister-in-law Leslie made. I hate to be “that girl,” but it was impossible not to imagine having babies with the man after I saw him wipe away a tear during the “Circle of Life.” My niece Marisa caught him crying, and they argued about whether it was dust or not.
Ovaries, uterus, vagina…all my lady parts were dancing.
Zander sighs a contented sigh in my ear before saying, “I was thinking it might be fun to do a quick trip to Boston before the preseason training starts.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, you can manage the time off now that you’re not working at Old George anymore, right?” His arms appear from beneath the bubbles as he wraps them around my shoulders and kisses my temple.
I purse my lips together. “I still do have to work, you know. Those jingles don’t sell themselves.”
“Oh, I know,” Zander says, smoothing bubbles up over my chest, just grazing the swells of my breasts. “But you’ve sold two jingles in the past two months. Surely, you deserve to be rewarded for your hard work.”
“What do you think this trip is?” I ask, gesturing to our quaint little getaway.
Zander huffs a displeased noise in my ear. “A train ride for a weekend getaway isn’t a real getaway.”
“Well then, let’s go home if this means so little to you.” I make a move to get out of the tub, and Zander growls into my ear as he tightens his grip on me.
“First of all…I love when you call our place home so you’re not even arguing with me very well right now.”
I roll my eyes.
“Second of all, is it really that awful of a request for me to want to take you back to Boston and show you off a bit?”
“No, it’s not awful,” I reply, biting my lip excitedly.
The truth is, I’d love to go home with him, but I still feel a bit weird letting him pay for me. Zander makes a lot more money than I do, and since quitting Old George to focus more on my music, I feel the pressure to be successful. It’s why I keep saying yes to the jingle projects. It gives me a safety net while I book some gigs at various pubs that do not pay well, at all.
Trying to sell my music is not an easy career path. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s brought me back to life in so many ways. Last weekend, I played at a club in Soho, and Zander, my brothers, their wives, and the
entire Harris crew were out in the audience, cheering me on. It was thrilling, and the club was packed. I may not have been discovered by any big record company, but I was reclaiming my music to the universe, just as Zander encouraged me to. That alone was worth more than any record deal. Nearly.
“So, what would we do in Boston?” I ask, tucking away my pride because when your boyfriend wants to take you to the home he grew up in, you just have to say yes.
“Well, the first thing I want to do is show you around Boston College so we can have sex on the field I got my first big break on.” His voice sounds boyish, naughty, and sexy all at the same time.
“Oh, how exciting,” I exclaim, my voice rising in pitch. “So, I can be one of the many girls you shagged when you were there being a footy manwhore. Do I get my own patch of grass or do you use the same patch for everyone?”
“Sweetheart,” Zander says, biting my earlobe. “I only bring marriage material girls on my sacred Boston College soccer field.”
Water sloshes onto the tile floor as I swirl around to face him. I stare up into his eyes, my brows in a deep scowl to see if he’s winding me up. “Are you saying I’m marriage material, Soccer Boy?”
His eyes grow tender as he reaches out and wipes a splotch of bubbles off my cheek. “Isn’t it obvious, Duckmeister?”
I roll my eyes and smile. “I can never tell when you’re serious or just having a go.”
He brings his finger to my chin and touches my dimple that I’m certain is on full display. “You know damn well I’m being serious.”
I inhale a sharp breath, my naked body erupting in goose bumps over his as I gaze into those beautiful hazel eyes. Damn him, he is serious.
I swallow down the gleeful knot in my throat as I calmly reply, “So that’s where our relationship is at now? We’re going to start talking about marriage?”
He shrugs. “First I thought you could move in with me, officially.”
My jaw drops. “Move in with you? We’ve only been together four months.”
“We’re at each other’s place all the time as it is,” he points out. “And I’m traveling enough with soccer that you’ll still have plenty of alone time to sit in my bathtub and practice your music to get the good acoustics. And there’s plenty of room at my place for your music equipment.”
I bite my lip nervously. “You’re serious about this?”
He nods slowly. “Plus, you’re my favorite alarm clock ever.”
I shake my head and pin him with a knowing look. The prat still snoozes his alarm a million times. If I didn’t wake up happy next to him every day, it really would be quite irritating.
“I guess I could be your roommate with benefits instead of your neighbor.” I roll my eyes, like this conversation is such a bother when in fact, my heart is practically bursting with excitement.
Zander shakes his head and laughs. “Careful now, if you want to label us, I’ll go ahead and put a ring on your finger and see how you like that label.”
I press my head to Zander’s chest and refrain from squealing like a silly little girl. Although, I dare say the final score of the relationship between Daphney Clarke and Zander Williams will be a hard one to call. I guess that makes us both winners.
Keep reading for an excerpt of Booker’s story, Keeper…
Or binge the complete Harris Brothers Series now!
(All Amy Daws books are available in Kindle Unlimited)
Write a secret Harris Brother, I said! Your readers will flip out, I said! It’ll be fun, I said. Was it fun? Was it? That’s still up for debate, I think. (insert exhausted emoji here) This book very likely gave me PTSD, but in the end, I really am proud of it, which is a lot, coming from me!
And there is no way I could have finally typed The End without my team of helpers that were with me through every painful minute along the way. Julia, Jennifer, Beth, Ashley, Kathryn, Megan, Jessica, and Franci…you women saved me with this book! I’ve learned that communication is how I get through moments when I’m struggling, and I deeply needed you all at various stages throughout this story to push my fat ass up this mountain. I cannot, absolutely cannot thank you all enough for helping make this book what it is today. And of course I must praise my British eyes, Teresa and Lynsey! I appreciate my friendship with you guys even more than your British prowesses!
Thanks to Jenny Sims for editing and Julia Griffis and Lydia Rella for proofing and Champagne formatting for making this book look pretty.
Praise must go out to my readers too because honestly, throughout writing this book, I wondered how they heck any of you have continued to show up for me book after book after book. Seriously, I don’t see the appeal because I’m a self-deprecating mess with low self-esteem, but thank you for allowing me to continue to pretend to be a writer!
To my hubby and my Lolo…thanks for tolerating my episodes of distress, self-doubt, anxiety, and all the negative emotions that come when you pour your heart into something difficult. Lolo, your hugs always got me through the darkest moments.
And finally, to my special six angel babies in heaven…you’re still at the top of my prayers. Thank you for giving me the emotional strength to get through a story like this and for inspiring me to be on this crazy journey as an author.
The London Lovers Series:
Becoming Us: Finley’s Story Part 1
A Broken Us: Finley’s Story Part 2
London Bound: Leslie’s Story
Not the One: Reyna’s Story
A London Lovers/Harris Brothers Crossover Novel:
Strength: Vi Harris & Hayden’s Story
The Harris Brothers Series:
Challenge: Camden’s Story
Endurance: Tanner’s Story
Keeper: Booker’s Story
Surrender & Dominate: Gareth’s Duet
Payback: A Harris Brother Spin-off Standalone
Blindsided: A Harris Brother Spin-off Standalone
Replay: A Harris Brother Spin-off Standalone
Sweeper: A Secret Harris Brother Standalone
The Wait With Me Series:
Wait With Me: A Tire Shop Rom-Com
Next in Line: A Bait Shop Rom-Com
One Moment Please: A Hospital Cafeteria Rom-Com
Take A Number: A Bakery Rom-Com
Pointe of Breaking: A College Dance Standalone by Amy Daws &
Sarah J. Pepper
Chasing Hope: A Mother’s True Story of Loss, Heartbreak,
and the Miracle of Hope
For all retailer purchase links, visit:
www.amydawsauthor.com
Amy Daws is an Amazon Top 13 bestselling author of the Harris Brothers Series and is most known for her punny, footy-playing, British playboys. The Harris Brothers and her London Lovers Series fuel her passion for all things London. When Amy’s not writing, she’s watching Gilmore Girls or singing karaoke in the living room with her daughter while Daddy awkward-smiles from a distance.
For more of Amy’s work, visit: www.amydawsauthor.com or check out the links below.
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EXCERPT OF KEEPER BY AMY DAWS
“Oh, cockwomble! What have I smashed?” A husky female voice comes from the hallway on the other side of my flat door. Camden, Tanner, and I stare at each other for a brief second before rushing toward the door to see what all the commotion is about.
My brothers get there first, blocking my view with their giant frames. I see a couple boxes tipped over on the landing—one open with the contents spilled out all over the place, including marbles that are rolling our way.
“Nobody move!” She sings the last word on a high note. “We have marbles on the floor and professional athletes at bay. Save yourselves. I can handle—” Her scream echoes off the brick walls as another crash happens, followed by a small yelp of pain. I can’t take another second of this, so I shove Camden and Tanner aside and walk out to see t
he mess.
Poppy McAdams is sprawled out on the tiled hallway floor, her legs at an angle that makes me cringe and her arms clutching a tackle box of some sort. My eyes move up her body because I haven’t seen my childhood best friend in ages. I have to do a double take to make sure it’s actually her.
“Help her up, Book,” Camden urges.
I quickly shake the stupor off my face and reach out to give her a hand. She stands slowly, avoiding my eyes as she surveys the mess and brushes the dirt off her cropped trousers.
Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she looks at me.
And even though I’m looking at her and I know she’s Poppy, she seems completely different.
Gone is her long, stringy blonde hair. Her platinum blonde locks are now short on the back and sides with length on the top that sweeps stunningly across her forehead. Never have I seen a short haircut make a girl look more feminine, but that’s exactly what this haircut has done. Her cropped hair highlights her full lips and the arch of her cheekbones perfectly. She looks like a model.
My gaze drops to her body—once skinny and gangly and usually covered in dirt—and finds curves and angles where they’d never been before. And her eyes…Even her eyes are different. They’ve always been pretty, but somehow they grew into huge doe eyes. They’re framed by impossibly long lashes, accentuating the green of them so much that they look almost inhuman.
“Booker!” She sings my name and reaches for me, nearly slipping again on a loose marble. I catch her in my arms and try to ignore the fact that she smells different as her hands wrap tightly behind my neck. “I can’t believe it’s been six years!”
