by L A Cotton
Love’s Spark
L. A. Cotton
Other titles
Fate’s Love Series
Fate’s Love
Love’s Spark
Chastity Falls Series
Loyalty and Lies
(coming January 2015)
Published by Delesty Books
First eBook Edition
Copyright © L. A. Cotton 2014
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
If you are reading a copy of this book that has not been purchased from a licensed retailer please destroy it. Thank you for your support.
Edited by Jenny Carlsrud Sims of www.editing4indies.com
Cover designed by Kari Ayasha of www.covertocoverdesigns.com
Contents
Other titles
Copyright © L. A. Cotton 2014
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Love’s Spark Playlist
About the Author
Acknowledgments
…Sneak Peek from the next book in the Fate’s Love Series
Excerpt from Chasity Falls: Loyalty and Lies
Dedication
To my husband—my spark.
Sometimes you find your other half in the most unusual of circumstances.
Chapter 1
~ Sharn ~
“Well, that was two hours of my life I’ll never get back,” I muttered to myself as I threw my keys onto the cupboard and kicked off my pink stilettos. Headed in the direction of the kitchen, I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror and sighed. “What a waste of a perfectly good outfit.”
The pink print Juicy Couture dress had cost me a week’s salary, but it hugged my curves perfectly. It also made me look taller by at least an inch—and when you’re only five-foot-nothing, every inch counts.
Going straight to the refrigerator, I pulled a glass off the drainer and prayed Mom had stocked the fridge. After spending two hours listening to Mr. All-looks-no-brain drone on about his car and expensive shoe collection, I needed wine and lots of it.
My second disastrous date of the year and it wasn’t even mid-February. ‘He’s just your type’ had been Mae’s words when she offered to set me up with Deacon. I mean, come on, what kind of name was Deacon anyway? It should’ve been all the warning I needed. She was right about one thing, though—he was hot…panties-melting-on-the-spot hot. But ten minutes into dinner and I knew he was destined for my ever-growing dating disaster hall-of-fame—Deacon had spent more time watching himself in the mirror than paying attention to me.
Pouring myself an extra-large glass of wine, I headed up to my room. Just turned twenty-four and still living at home. It wasn’t quite the way I pictured my life turning out. But after graduating from the University of Michigan almost two years ago, my bank account was so empty that I had no choice but to beg Mom and Dad to let me move back home. That had almost sent Momma dearest over the edge—she couldn’t wait to ship me off to UMich, probably hoping I’d never return.
I dropped onto the bed, avoiding the pile of unmarked workbooks staring at me. A reminder that I should’ve stayed home to grade, instead of chancing a night out with dull Deacon. But who wanted to stay home—with their parents—on a Friday night and mark ninth-grade English homework?
~
“Jared, Marc, for as much as I, and the rest of the class, love watching your blossoming bromance, can you please keep your hands to yourself.” The class erupted in hollers, and I cleared my throat, flashing my trademark Macer glare at the room—as coined by my ninth graders at the beginning of the year.
I’d been teaching English at Gainesville High since the start of the year, and I loved it. Sure, it was a little strange being back in the hallways of the place I had spent my teen years, but the faculty had helped to make me feel right at home. And with my no-nonsense attitude and sharp tongue, I had earned the students’ respect in no time.
GHS hadn’t changed all that much since I graduated six years ago. There was still the high school social hierarchy: the jocks, Barbies, geeks, Goths. There was a time I’d lived for high school, but I didn’t envy the kids moving through the ranks now. Once you’re handed that scroll on graduation and forced out into the real world, everything changed. Everything.
“Miss M, I don’t get what’s up with that Miss Havisham lady. I mean…she seems a whole lotta cuckoo, if you ask me,” a gruff male voice called out.
“Well, actually Micah, no one was asking you. But since you brought it up. Let’s discuss.” I placed my dog-eared copy of Great Expectations down and moved around to the front of the desk. “So, who wants to start us off…Melissa, why is Miss Havisham a whole lotta cuckoo, as Micah so eloquently stated?”
Melissa frowned, deep in thought, and I could see her brain working overtime. This is what I loved most about teaching—encouraging and challenging young minds. “Hmm…she was left at the altar by the guy she was going to marry. It sent her mad?”
“Yeah, but come on, people get stepped on all the time. They don’t all go crazy,” another male voice added.
“Thank you for that thought, Jared. So none of you can imagine being that hurt, that distraught, that you would want some form of revenge?”
Silence fell over the class, as twenty-six fourteen-year-olds considered my question. I’d lived that kind of hurt twice. Okay, I wasn’t exactly jilted at the altar, but I knew heartbreak…and then some.
“Anyone?”
A hand shot up, and I nodded, encouraging the young girl. “I get that she was hurting, Miss M, but I don’t think I’d lose my mind over a guy. Period.”
“Who agrees with Jasmyn?”
A sea of girls’ hands shot up in the air, and I smiled to myself. Another year and they’d be singing a different tune—once they’d experienced the ups and downs of first dates, first love…and first heartbreak.
~
I shimmied through the teacher’s lounge door backward, carrying a pile of schoolwork to grade. Finding some table space to deposit the books, I headed to the kitchenette to make my usual caramel macchiato.
“So, how was Deacon? He’s great, right?” Mae cut me off at the sink and looked down at me, eyes full of anticipation.
Oh, boy.
I reached around her for the kettle. “Well, you weren’t wrong about his face…or his body. Hello, hotness. But he lacked a little in the personality department—”
“Come on, Sharn. He’s hot and an investment broker. You said you wanted a professional, hot, older guy. And that’s what I gave you. Gift wrapped in a Deacon-shaped package.”
My lips curled into a half
smile at her enthusiasm, but she’d clearly never actually talked to the guy. “He spent the whole date talking about the stock market and watching himself in the mirror. Do I look like I know anything about stocks or the type of girl who wants a guy who needs longer in the mirror than I do? And I'm sure if I were to check out his closet, he'd own more shoes than me!”
“Okay, so Deacon was a no-no, but I have just the guy for you. Phil introduced me to him over the weekend. His name’s Joshua, he’s twenty-eight and a property developer in Tampa. He has these dreamy eyes, like the sea on a summer day.” She let out a tender sigh, and I looked at her incredulously. “Seriously, Mae, you need to either dump Phil and move on or get couples counseling or something. If you’re swooning over Josh, or whatever his name is, you need to sort things out with your own marriage.”
“You’re right, I need to get laid. Phil is always away at these work conferences—”
I left her trailing behind me, rambling on about Phil this, Phil that, as I headed to my usual seat. They’d only been married a year, but the honeymoon stage was well and truly over.
“So shall I set you guys up?”
Mae had become a close friend through work, but sometimes she didn’t know when to quit.
“Actually, I think I’m going to take a break from the whole dating scene.” I gave her my best I-mean-what-I’m-saying smile, but she narrowed her eyes at me. “Seriously, since when has Sharn Macer ever given dating a break?”
She had a point. But I just wasn’t feeling it lately. A string of bad dates and even worse second dates. I’d met them all—Mr. Vain, Mr. I-forgot-to-take-a-shower, Mr. Lives-with-my-gran, and my personal favorite, Mr. I-forgot-my-wallet-can-you-pick-up-the-check? Maybe it was time for a little me, myself, and I.
~
“Dad, Mom, anyone home?” I headed straight for the kitchen. It'd been a long day. My ninth graders had been a handful. Then the school dropped on me that I was to host a special program for some of the ninth-grade boys who were struggling to stay out of Principal Delaney's office. The governing body decided to invest in a community baseball program; an initiative to engage unruly teens in team sports. Somehow, I’d been handpicked as the perfect person to babysit. Most of the boys on the list were in my classes and had been scoring consistently well. There was just one flaw in their carefully considered plan—my total disinterest and cluelessness for all things sport.
“Is that you, Sharn? I’m in the den,” Dad’s muffled voice called out.
“Oh, hey Dad. What are you doing?” I asked as I entered the room. My eyes watched as he frantically shuffled through the drawers of his huge mahogany desk, worry etched into the lines on his face. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine…everything’s fine, honey. You don’t need to worry your head over anything.” He smiled, but I could tell it was forced, the deep lines pinching at the corners of his eyes.
“Are you sure? You look a little stressed, Dad?”
“It’s nothing. Honest, sweetie. Just misplaced a few documents.”
“Okay, if you say so. Where’s Mom? Shouldn’t she be home by now?”
“Oh, she’s working late…Or eating out with her friends. I can’t remember.”
Mom and Dad’s relationship had never been white picket fences and picnics in the park. When Russ and I were younger, they made more of an effort to get along. It wasn’t that they argued much; Dad was far too passive for that. It was Mom—it had to be her way or the highway. Mom wanted and Dad footed the bill—new car, new pool, new porch extension. As we got older, their relationship just drifted. Nowadays, they spent more time apart than together. My theory was that Mom was having an affair. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Okay then. I’ll get some grading done then make us dinner. Where’s Russ?”
Russ, my younger brother by a year, still officially lived at home. He was rarely around, though, always off with the band writing music and touring. Where I was organized chaos, Russ was just chaos.
“Okay, honey, give me a shout when it’s done.”
I left Dad to his pile of letters and statements. If Mom had anything to do with the concern in his eyes, it would be about money, no doubt.
“Just what we need,” I said under my breath, rolling my eyes. I really needed to stop talking to myself. I was starting to sound like a crazy lady.
~
I arrived at school early and made my way to the gym. It was Tuesday and the first day of the baseball program. Not only did I have to try to pass a message to each of the seventeen boys on the roster—that I was yet to see—but I also had to inform them all that they were required to attend. The school felt that dropping it on them last minute would avoid too many no shows.
“Can you just explain again why I’m the one who’s ended up with this gig, Nev?” I said as I entered the small office off to the side of the locker rooms.
My eyes questioned Neville Carthey, Athletic Director at GHS, as he looked up from his desk. Surely, there was someone more suited in the hundred plus faculty to host the baseball program. I didn’t know baseball from football. It was a recipe for disaster.
“Principal Delaney and Dean McGregor think you’re most suited, Sharn. You know the kids. You’re young and fresh. They respond to you.”
“Fresh? Really!” I laughed, but it came out more like a choke. “Yeah, but baseball? I suck at baseball.” My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose, still unconvinced that I was the right person for the task.
“You don’t have to play; you just have to be a familiar face. They’re bringing in a coach from the Youth Baseball Program downtown. He’ll lead the sessions. You just need to represent the school.”
Nev’s tone told me there was no getting out of it, and I groaned, “Fine, fine. How long is it for?”
“Two hours a week for twelve weeks.”
“Twelve weeks?” I shrieked, dropping into the chair opposite the desk while Nev shook his head, an amused smile spreading over his face. “It’ll be good for you. Branch out from under all those dusty books.”
“Ha-ha, funny guy.” I gently punched his tree-stump arm.
I’d fallen into an accidental friendship with Nev. After surviving my first day at GHS, I left the school to find my car with a flat tire. Just as I was about to call Russ or Dad to bail me out, a huge giant-like, ebony-skinned man approached me and offered to change out the spare. From then on, he took me under his wing and showed me the ropes.
“Show me the list again.” I held out my hand, and Nev handed me the roster.
My eyes scanned over the seventeen names, and I blew out a low whistle. “Wow, that’s some list.”
“Think you’re up for the task?” Nev’s eyebrows furrowed in question, and I looked him straight in the eye, and said, “You know it… Miss M never backs down from a challenge.”
~
As I watched the seventeen amped-up teens stroll out onto the field, I was beginning to think I’d made a huge mistake by agreeing so easily. The coach was late, and I had no backup plan. I was also beginning to think I should’ve reconsidered my wardrobe choice. My floor length skirt and floaty chiffon blouse weren’t exactly weather or sports proof. I was just relieved I’d traded my usual heels for flats. Except now, I looked like a child and most of the boys towered over me. It was embarrassing.
“Hey, Miss M, where’s this coach we’ve all heard so much about?” Jared shouted across to the bleachers where I was perched, and I cupped my hands around my mouth. “He’s running late but don’t you worry, he’ll be here to show you how to hit a home run.” I cringed, hoping I’d gotten the right sport.
I watched the boys. Most of them were good kids; just a little misguided and easily misled. In my first week at GHS, I'd had run-ins with Jared, Marc, and Kenny. They were testing the boundaries—seeing how far they could push me. I ended up shouting like a crazy woman. It didn’t earn their respect right away, but their dropped jaws said it all; they’d underestimated their tiny, new teacher. Th
e following morning, annoyed at myself for letting them get to me so much, I gave myself a pep talk, marched into class, and laid down the law. That was the day Miss M was born.
“Kenny, let go of Micah. NOW!” I yelled across the field as I watched Micah struggle to get out of the headlock Kenny had pinned him in.
The coach needed to show up soon, or the boys would lose interest, and I’d lose my hold on them. Most of them agreed without issue to attend the program, but I might have slipped in the promise of a reward if they successfully completed the twelve weeks.
A figure approached the field carrying a huge sports bag. I was paying little attention to the bag, more interested in the well-defined arms holding it. He was tall and lean but had muscles in all the right places, and I sank my elbows onto my knees, leaning my head onto my hands to get a better look. My eyes raked down his body. The guy was hot—with a capital H. He walked straight over to Kenny and Micah and started to say something to Kenny. I could only make out the odd word from reading his lips. They seemed to be sizing each other up. Obviously, he was the baseball coach, but the way he'd strolled straight up to the loudest, rowdiest of the boys and stood his ground made me sit up a little straighter. I couldn’t make out his face since he had a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes, but whatever he was saying to Kenny had the desired effect. I’d never seen Kenny back down to the teacher. Ever. Who is this guy? I thought to myself, a slight smile playing on my lips. Perhaps this program was the answer, after all… And I could think of worse ways to spend the next twelve weeks.
Chapter 2
~ Keefer ~
“Yo, Keefer, my man. How are things in the little leagues?
I scowled, stuffing the last of the bases into the bag. Jase was a good enough guy, but sometimes he rubbed me the wrong way. “I coach youth baseball, asshole,” I replied, returning his fist punch as I hauled the bag over my shoulder.
