A Wild Card Kiss
Lauren Blakely
Contents
Also by Lauren Blakely
About
A Wild Card Kiss
A Wild Card Night
A prequel
Nearly Eight Years Ago
1. Harlan
2. Katie
3. Katie
4. Harlan
5. Harlan
6. Katie
7. Harlan
A Wild Card Kiss
1. Katie
2. Harlan
3. Katie
4. Harlan
5. Harlan
6. Katie
7. Katie
8. Harlan
9. Katie
The Fall
10. Katie
11. Katie
12. Harlan
13. Katie
14. Harlan
15. Harlan
16. Katie
17. Katie
18. Katie
19. Harlan
20. Katie
21. Harlan
22. Harlan
23. Katie
24. Harlan
25. Katie
26. Katie
27. Katie
28. Katie
29. Harlan
30. Harlan
31. Katie
32. Jason
33. Emerson
Epilogue
Epilogue
Also by Lauren Blakely
Contact
Copyright © 2022 by Lauren Blakely
Cover Design by Helen Williams.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This book is licensed for your personal use only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy sexy romance novels with alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Also by Lauren Blakely
Big Rock Series
Big Rock
Mister O
Well Hung
Full Package
Joy Ride
Hard Wood
* * *
Happy Endings Series
My Single-Versary
A Wild Card Kiss
Shut Up and Kiss Me
Kismet
* * *
Rules of Love Series
The Rules of Friends with Benefits (A Prequel Novella)
The Virgin Rule Book
The Virgin Game Plan
The Virgin Replay
The Virgin Scorecard
* * *
Men of Summer Series
Scoring With Him
Winning With Him
All In With Him
* * *
The Guys Who Got Away Series
Dear Sexy Ex-Boyfriend
The What If Guy
Thanks for Last Night
The Dream Guy Next Door
* * *
The Gift Series
The Engagement Gift
The Virgin Gift
The Decadent Gift
* * *
The Extravagant Series
One Night Only
One Exquisite Touch
My One-Week Husband
* * *
MM Standalone Novels
A Guy Walks Into My Bar
One Time Only
The Bromance Zone
* * *
The Heartbreakers Series
Once Upon a Real Good Time
Once Upon a Sure Thing
Once Upon a Wild Fling
* * *
Boyfriend Material
Asking For a Friend
Sex and Other Shiny Objects
One Night Stand-In
* * *
Lucky In Love Series
Best Laid Plans
The Feel Good Factor
Nobody Does It Better
Unzipped
* * *
Always Satisfied Series
Satisfaction Guaranteed
Instant Gratification
Overnight Service
Never Have I Ever
PS It’s Always Been You
Special Delivery
* * *
The Sexy Suit Series
Lucky Suit
Birthday Suit
* * *
From Paris With Love
Wanderlust
Part-Time Lover
* * *
One Love Series
The Sexy One
The Only One
The Hot One
The Knocked Up Plan
Come As You Are
* * *
Sports Romance
Most Valuable Playboy
Most Likely to Score
* * *
Standalones
Stud Finder
The V Card
The Real Deal
Unbreak My Heart
The Break-Up Album
* * *
The Caught Up in Love Series
The Pretending Plot (previously called Pretending He’s Mine)
The Dating Proposal
The Second Chance Plan (previously called Caught Up In Us)
The Private Rehearsal (previously called Playing With Her Heart)
* * *
Seductive Nights Series
Night After Night
After This Night
One More Night
A Wildly Seductive Night
About
A sexy standalone romance between a single dad athlete and the woman who got away!
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Things that suck on my wedding day -- walking in on my groom kissing another woman twenty minutes before the ceremony.
Things that suck worse? The woman he’s kissing is my mom.
I head straight for the bowling alley bar down the street, and ask for a double. And in walks a sinfully sexy, deliciously charming local football hero -- Harlan Taylor.
Here’s what doesn’t suck on my wedding day -- a one-night stand with this hunk of a man.
In the morning, he asks if I want to get together again. More rebound nookie to take my mind off getting stabbed in the back? Yes please!
But then, I learn his football team just hired my yoga studio to teach downward facing dog to the entire roster, with me giving special one-on-one instruction in flexibility to Harlan. That makes the O-delivering hottie officially off limits.
Trouble is, the more time I spend working with the sexy single dad who dotes on his daughter, the more I’m feeling all the things far too soon.
And there’s just no way we can work.
* * *
A Wild Card Kiss is a sexy, flirty sports romance featuring a charming, pie-baking, single dad who's never forgotten the red-hot kiss he planted on the feisty, sassy blonde one night years ago and a jilted bride heroine determi
ned to move on from heartbreak. This story contains sexy times that can cure getting-left-at-the-altar blues, and heart-tugging swoony romance that’ll melt the most jaded hearts.
A Wild Card Kiss
By Lauren Blakely
* * *
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A Wild Card Night
A prequel
Dear Reader,
A Wild Card Kiss begins with a prequel — A Wild Card Night. If you already read the prequel when it was released on its own, go ahead and start at A Wild Card Kiss! If not, then start right here and turn the page.
Xoxo
Lauren
Nearly Eight Years Ago
1
Harlan
There are two kinds of men in the world.
Those who love suits and those who hate them.
Why love one? A well-made suit fits like a dream.
As for why you might hate one, don’t ask me.
I’m a lover, not a hater. No one ever came to this guy for the negative on anything. Hate isn’t my style.
But suits are, and I have a whole closet full of hand-tailored duds for occasions like the colleague’s wedding where I’m headed tonight.
I pad across the carpet of my walk-in closet and appraise my options, flicking through the crisply pressed shirts hanging along one wall. I bypass the charcoal, midnight black, and dark blue, the paisley and the striped, until I reach a shirt in the palest of blues.
I slide it off the hanger, put it on, and smooth the front.
This color always wins the eyes of the ladies.
Now, for the suit. I’ve got more than a dozen custom ones to pick from. Comes with the territory—as a pro football player, I’m required to dress to the nines on game day. I consider my faves and zero in on the winner.
“Ah!” It’s not your father’s navy suit, that’s for sure. No bankers would wear this color either. The deep, rich blue speaks up, gets noticed. It’s a hue that says, Let’s have some fun tonight, sweetheart.
And I am a fun kind of guy, so that’s the romantic vibe I like putting out in the universe.
I put on the pants and a chocolate-brown belt, then head to the tie hanger. I opt for a pink silk one with tiny illustrations of playing cards scattered over it.
May luck be a very lovely lady tonight.
I grab the suit jacket, sling it over my shoulder on one finger, and spin around in front of the full-length mirror.
Yep.
“Well done, sir,” I tell my reflection.
I am ready for the celebration. The bride and groom will say I do, and hearts will go a fluttering.
Ahhhh, yes.
Weddings—another thing I love.
Two people vowing to cherish each other for the rest of their lives. It melted my heart every time one of my sisters tied the knot, promising forever and fidelity.
Whether a couple can keep that promise, stay true to that vow . . . well, that’s another issue.
I shudder, shucking off those unpleasant thoughts.
Not today, brain.
As I head down the stairs, I laser in on the best thing about weddings—for me, that is, as an attendee.
Weddings are the best place to meet women. Talk to women. Dance with women.
Three of my favorite things in the world to do.
Fuck this online shit. Swiping left or right and snapping this or that is not for me. I’m all about face-to-face chemistry and real-life chitchat. Weddings are perfect for a social cat like me as they’re usually brimming with single women in the mood for a man.
Pretty sure I’ve never met a wedding where I haven’t gotten laid, and I wouldn’t mind keeping up that streak tonight.
I leave my place and head to the limo waiting at the curb just outside on California Street. I slow to survey the sleek, black set of wheels and whistle in appreciation.
The driver—a slim, efficient man in a black suit—pops out to open the door for me. “Thank you very much,” I tell him. “And nice to meet you. I’m Harlan.”
The man gives a surprised smile. “Darien. Pleasure to meet you too,” he says.
I slide into the back seat to join my teammate Jones Beckett. “Damn, you look almost as good as I do,” I say, checking out my friend in his Tom Ford suit.
The team’s star receiver rolls his blue eyes. “Thanks. You look almost as rich as me.”
I laugh as I smooth my hand down my tie. “Thanks for giving me a new goal.”
Jones settles into the seat as the driver pulls onto Fillmore. “Thanks for being my”—he stops to sketch air quotes—“’date’ tonight.”
“Of course. Anything for the cause of love, buddy.”
Jones sighs heavily and drags a hand down his face. “Fuck, man. I’ve got to figure this out and soon.”
“No argument here.”
My friend has it bad for the Renegades’ lead publicist. He tried to keep it a secret from me and everyone else, and I understand why, but I put two and two together. Jillian’s perfect for him—whip-smart and loyal. But Jones has been rehabbing his reputation, trying to shake off a checkered past, and he hasn’t figured out how to bring their forbidden romance into the light.
More power to the two of them for running the relationship obstacle course. But just the thought of all those hurdles is too much for me. I prefer my dalliances simple, mutually enjoyable, and free of angst.
The strategy has served me well—mostly, I should say—for the last several years. I like to date, I like to have fun, and I like to fuck. But with my career still on the upswing, anything more complicated than that is not part of my playbook.
“I don’t envy you, pal,” I tell Jones as the driver swings onto Steiner Street.
“I don’t envy me either. What am I supposed to do?”
“You could—just a thought—sort this shit out and have a relationship,” I offer with a smile. I’m encouraging like that. But seriously, sometimes you just have to man up and do the hard things in life.
“I’m working on it, Harlan. And I think I’ve got a plan for telling the team and my new sponsor. But it’ll have to wait until this weekend. Tonight, I just need a wingman so I can spend some time with Jillian.”
I tap my sternum. “One fantastic, grade-A, top-choice wingman at your service.” It’s not my place to pressure him to come clean. He knows what he needs to do, and he’s got to do it in his own damn time.
Plus, I know my role at this wedding.
I’m Jones’s cover, and that’s fine.
When the car stops on her block, Jones bounds up the steps and returns with Jillian a few minutes later. She greets me as they slide into the car, but mostly they make I want to bang you backward, forward, and six ways to Sunday eyes at each other as she snuggles up against him.
“Would you like me to just get in the front seat with the driver?” I offer, gesturing to the partition. “You can have a wham-bam while I chat with Darien. He seemed chill.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Jillian says, ducking her head as a smile plays across her face. “We’ll behave.”
I scoff. “No need to behave on my account. I’m happy to shoot the breeze with the guy.” I point to the speakers. “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” pipes through the limo. “He’s got good taste in music.”
Jones runs a hand along Jillian’s bare arm, and she shivers. “Can’t help myself,” Jones says, “Haven’t seen her in a while.”
“I can tell. The sexual tension between you two would fill an ice cream tub. I could scoop it up and serv
e it in a cone. Sexual Tension Swirl, I’d call it.”
Jones arches a brow. “Seriously?”
“What? I love sexual tension,” I say with a grin.
“Everyone does, Harlan,” Jones deadpans.
“Exactly. Marketing gold. I’ll make millions. This idea is going to fund my retirement someday,” I tease.
Jillian narrows her eyes and shakes a warning finger. “You better not retire anytime soon. You’re only twenty-nine.”
“You never know. That’s why I’m always thinking ahead,” I say, tapping my temple. “Plan for the unexpected.”
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