Aiden drapes an arm over my shoulder and pulls me up tight to his side. His lips brush my ear. “This is to replace the one you burnt.” His voice is low with a touch of gravel, which has me tingling all over and wishing I could unwrap his other “present.”
“Thought it’d be more…versatile than a dildo. I’m looking forward to us playing with that.”
Oh God. I shudder all over. I bite my lip and glance up at him. “I can’t wait,” I whisper.
He groans and shifts on the bench. “I can’t either. Fuck. But—” He plucks the bag from me and sets it to the side. Then he turns to me, and his face is completely serious. He slides his hands across my jaw until he’s cradling my head, his gaze boring into mine.
You know what else I love? That being under such intense scrutiny doesn’t make me squirm.
“The two of us,” he rumbles. “We’re going to have a lot of adventures together.”
My heart leaps. “We are.”
He brushes his lips across mine. “Inside and outside of the bedroom.”
Yes.
And as he deepens the kiss as much as we dare in public, a strange feeling suffuses me, as if I’m glowing from the rightness, the happiness, filling me as our tongues tangle, my hands gripping his jersey, his hands gently holding me.
And while this happy glow is amazing in and of itself, there’s an added significance. Because, let’s face it, we’re talking about me here.
This glow, it feels as if it can be seen by everyone—like a beacon—and that makes me happy too. Like I’m here, world. I’m here, I’m happy, and I think I’m in love.
Thank you for reading Aiden and Jane's story. and I hope you enjoyed their journey to love as much as I did writing it! Be sure to check out the next book, Trusting It, which follows Conor and Claire. To be alerted to its release in Feb 2018, be sure to join my newsletter.
Did you miss Luke & Pepper's story?
Read the first chapter below to see how they met!
One blind date. One case of mistaken identity. One Navy SEAL faced with his high school crush. What could go wrong?
To Score…
Holy cow, my blind date is rawr-hot. Everything in me aches to explore more with this man, but I can’t. I’ve got too much on the line professionally, with me starting at my new medical practice on shaky ground. But I can’t deny that I want the sex. A fling is perfect. Bonus—I will prove my idiot ex-boyfriend wrong. I’m not cold.
Or Not to Score…
Once she mistakes me for her blind date, my plan is clear. Be this Rick the Lawyer she thinks I am. And for the space of this coffee date, talk to the only woman who’s ever made me feel any spark outside of combat. Best case scenario, I get to be outside my skin—free to be whatever the hell I want. Worst case—she recognizes me as we chat. She’ll be pissed, call me an asshole, but it won’t be anything she hasn’t called me in the past, so… Win/Win?
CHAPTER 1
Pepper
ur 2 cold
I glare at the four-month-old text, barely glancing at the bearded hipster bumping past me on the sidewalk. The sender? That’d be my ex. The hockey goalie who slapped away our year-long relationship with a text. Well, a series of texts over a five-minute span.
I’m killing time, and like someone who keeps picking, picking, picking at a scab, I’d pulled up those texts to stare at that last one. Cold?
Ambitious. Driven. Yes.
But cold?
I shove the phone into its pocket in my purse. I am not my parents. Thinking of those two fills me with a familiar but fuzzy unease.
A searing wave of fuck-that-asshole follows. He’s still infecting my life—what I need is closure. I can’t let that infection spill into my new life here in my old hometown. I yank the phone back out, resigned at this point to looking like an idiot to anyone who might be watching.
An article on Facebook from yesterday waves at me—hello, perfect revenge!
Tap, tap, tap. A quick search, a phone call, and…Yes.
I mash the end call icon on my Samsung and do a tee-hee dance on the sunny sidewalk. I sheepishly glance around to see who witnessed my little bout of enthusiasm on Sarasota’s Main Street, but the locals and the few meandering tourists are preoccupied with their own lives this morning. Why should I care anyway, right?
Because thanks to my vengeance-driven donation, there’s now a Madagascar hissing cockroach at the Bronx Zoo graced with the name Phil Stoddart.
It might be a placebo, but damn, it feels fantastic.
That task hasn’t wasted enough time, so I pop under the barely cooler shade of one of the pin oaks lining the street and enter today’s tasks in my app. It’s my last day for errands before I start work with my new medical practice. Ha—look at me being all casual. My new medical practice.
Try first. Yesterday, seeing the nameplate next to my door—Dr. Rodgers—had brought goose bumps along my arms, making everything terrifyingly and excitingly real. I’m finally starting my career as a sports medicine doc. See, it’s that life I can’t wait to start after twelve grueling years of schooling, but instead, I’m five minutes early for a coffee date I’d rather not go on, much less be early to. So yeah, I’m stalling.
My high school best friend set me up with a colleague at her law firm. A lawyer? No, thanks—got enough of them growing up. (Read: my parents.) But since she’s the only old friend I still want to hang with here, I succumbed. What’s one morning?
All right. That’s as much as I can reasonably stall. Now to face Rick the Lawyer, make small talk, and sip overpriced coffee. Maybe he’ll surprise me. With the fresh reminder of Phil’s opinion of me, maybe it’ll be good to swim in the dating pool again. Live a little.
I dodge the sidewalk amblers and push through the door of the Mocha Cabana exactly one minute early. The rich scent of coffee and sweet pastries envelops me. Customers of all ages are bunched around the café-style tables. The population has definitely skewed younger since childhood. When I moved away, the realization that not everyone was seventy-plus years old was an eye-opener.
I do a quick scan—all I have to go on is that he’s my age, he’s got dark hair, and his name is Rick. And he’s a lawyer.
I paste on a smile.
My gaze latches onto the man by the corner window, whose unnervingly masculine face is bisected by the fluctuating shadow of a nodding palm frond outside. The table in front of him is practically Lilliputian, he’s so huge. He’s the only man in the place matching Rick’s description, though, and my heart does a tee-hee dance of its own. And I can tell, in that odd way that happens sometimes, that he knows I’ve arrived and is aware of me viscerally. That he’s watching without watching, because the air between us has that crackly, weighty anticipation that triggers my sixth sense. This guy will have significance in my life, it says.
Combined with a rush of attraction? Not the reaction I want for a lawyer—or for anyone right now. Shit.
But Lordy, he must work out in his off hours. He’s fit in a way you rarely see outside of movies and comic books. His hair is midnight black, and if it wasn’t just past his ears, I’d totally peg him for active military—but not in the way you might think. He doesn’t have those all-American good looks honed into sharp cheekbones and jaw like you associate with Marines. No. It’s in the posture, the confidence, the strength. He owns—dominates—the space around him.
He has sharp cheekbones, but they’re not part of an overall shiny, do-gooder package. Instead, they’re combined with an olive skin tone, five-o’clock shadow, and a commanding nose that all adds up to Devastating.
Yipes, this easily-six-foot-two stack of hunky muscle is a lawyer and—I swallow—my blind date.
Pulse stupidly racing and that weighty awareness tingling up my back, I shuffle into line to order my café mocha. Deep breath. Live a little, I remind myself.
Swim in the dating pool? Now I want to splash in it, and I can’t tell if it’s because I want to cause a distraction or revel in the sheer
fun.
One thing I do know—this reaction is so not like me.
Luke
Yeah, I saw her come in. Yeah, it’s now forty-two seconds past my self-allotted time for staying in this frou-frou place. But can you blame a guy? The curvy brunette in the red dress snagged my attention as soon as she strolled in. The space around her seems less…murky.
That’s not quite right. As a Navy SEAL, details are always dialed in, so it’s not that my surroundings shifted from fuzzy to sharp. The clouds didn’t part and reveal her in full sunshine or any of that crap. No. But the details are usually flat. Now it’s as if she makes the space more…vibrant. 3D.
She doesn’t see me at first, so I steal a moment and let my gaze linger. My hands flex—her trim but lush figure makes me want to trace all those curves. Grip her hips. Such a contrast to her glossy hair pulled into a reserved bun at the nape of her neck, which screams take me seriously. The red liquid of her dress hugs those grippable curves, teasing, promising. The Florida sun bathes her gorgeous face in warm light.
Shit. I’m getting downright poetic.
I press two fingers to my pulse. Cuz this shit isn’t normal.
I still, my instincts fully engaged, because something about her is familiar, but I can’t zero in on what. And now it’s ninety seconds past my time, and I should be dumping this joke of a coffee and getting on with my day, but, yeah, the brunette. Maybe she’s getting her order to-go, and I can see her on the way out. Okay, see her fine ass, cuz she’s gotta have one, right?
And that’s why I’m thrown off guard. Something else that’s not normal. A swath of red fills my peripheral vision, scant inches from my face, and I know without looking up it’s her. A coconut scent wafts over me. Wafts? Did I just use the word waft?
A delicate throat clears, and an intriguing voice says tentatively, “Rick?”
I look up, ready to correct her. Lucky Rick.
But I pause. And go very, very still.
Holy. Shit. It’s Pepper Rodgers from high school. Pepper of the hormone-fueled teenage fantasies. Pepper the ever-optimistic. Pepper whom I totally humiliated at the science fair senior year. I’d call her the one who got away, but I never had her.
Her brown eyes don’t flash with recognition.
Can’t fault her. I’m not the shuffling beanpole with braces and acne she knew in high school.
Suddenly, I don’t want to correct her and lose my opportunity to be around her for the next few minutes she might grant me. Cuz she wouldn’t want to talk to Luke Haas—or Haashole as she dubbed me—but she obviously wants to talk to this Rick person.
And doesn’t know who he is.
Want to find out what happens with Luke and Pepper? Click here to view more about it and order!
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Risking It!
I hope you enjoyed Aiden and Jane! If you join my mailing list for the latest news, I'll send you deleted scenes from Must Love Breeches as a thank you! I also have a Facebook fan group you can join to get the latest news and goodies!
Want some visuals? While drafting and revising, I created a Pinterest board to help visualize and brainstorm.
Please feel free to reach out to me. I love to hear from readers about what they loved (or didn't) about my books, so drop me a line if you'd like at [email protected] or find me on my website or on twitter at @angelaquarles, or on my Facebook page.
And now a big favor. Readers like you make it possible for writers to do what they love, spin tales! Thank you for your support. If you enjoyed Risking It, I hope you'll take a moment to share your enthusiasm with other readers by posting a review. Discoverability for new authors like me is a challenge and every review helps connect a reader to a book they might enjoy. I appreciate any review, positive or negative, so if you have a moment to post one, even just a line or two about what you thought of the story, on Goodreads or your favorite review site, I’d be grateful! The more reviews a book receives, the more other readers are willing to take a chance on a new author. It also helps a reader decide whether a book is for them or not. Regardless, I thank you for reading! If you do leave a review, send me an email at [email protected] so I can personally thank you, or tweet me @angelaquarles.
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Also by Angela Quarles
As You Wish
an erotic geek romantic comedy
Steam Me Up, Rawley
a steampunk romance
Must Love Breeches
Book One in the Must Love series
Must Love Chainmail
Book Two in the Must Love series
Must Love Kilts
Book Three in the Must Love series
Must Love More Kilts
Book Four in the Must Love series
Earning It
Book One in my romantic comedy series, Stolen Moments
Coming Feb 2018
Trusting It
Book Three in my romantic comedy series, Stolen Moments
Join my mailing list to be among the first to hear of its release!
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank the following folks who read early versions and helped me make this a better story! Jami Gold, Shaila Patel (who read it twice). You guys helped me to not only craft a better story, but also helped in the cheerleading department too. Thank you!
I’d also like to thank several of my readers who also read early versions and gave me helpful feedback: Megan and Deb, thank you!
My editors Gwen Hayes, Erynn Newman, and Julie Glover had my back again, which I appreciate so much.
I’d also like to thank some of my friends, some from my high school days, who suggested stops for Aiden and Jane. I appreciate it! And special thanks to Julie Lapides, who went farther and sent me awesome pics of Solomon's Castle and provided insight into that awesome location that helped me bring it to life. Much appreciated, Julie!
And to Christopher Cox who answered questions about what it's like to have Jane's job. Though a lot of that information didn't make it into the book, it helped me get a better picture of her.
I also want to thank the members of my facebook fan group for their help and support!
I’d also like to thank my facebook and twitter friends who are always willing to answer questions I pose, whether it’s about writing, or character ideas, or an opinion sought.
And finally to my family, who have always believed in me and make it possible for me to pursue writing.
About the Author
Photo by Keyhole Photography
Angela Quarles is a RWA RITA® Winner and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary, time travel, and romance. Her steampunk, Steam Me Up, Rawley, was named Best Self-Published Romance of 2015 by Library Journal and Must Love Chainmail won the 2016 RITA® Award in the paranormal category, the first indie to win in that category. Angela loves history, folklore, and family history. She decided to take this love of history and her active imagination and write stories of romance and adventure for others to enjoy. When not writing, she's either working at the local indie bookstore or enjoying the usual stuff like gardening, reading, hanging out, eating, drinking, chasing squirrels out of the walls, and creating the occasional knitted scarf.
She has a B.A. in Anthropology and International Studies with a minor in German from Emory University, and a Masters in Heritage Preservation from Georgia State University. She was an exchange student to Finland in high school and studied abroad in Vienna one summer in college.
Find Angela Quarles Online:
www.angelaquarles.com
@angelaquarles
Facebook.com/authorangelaquarles
Mailing list: www.angelaquarles.com/join-my-mailing-list
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental, except where it is a matter of historical record.
RISKING IT
Copyright © 2017 Angela Trigg
Developmental editing by Gwen Hayes
Line editing by Erynn Newman
Copy editing by Julie Glover
Cover designer: Sara Eirew
Cover photo: Wander Aguiar
Cover model: Steven Dehler
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Digital Edition 1.0.101
Contents
RISKING IT
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Risking It Page 16
