by Lane Hart
“Thanks,” I reply with a grin and good-natured eye roll before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and twisting the top off to take a big swig.
“Seriously, Cinderella, how long have you been cleaning today?” Sadie asks from her seat at the long farmhouse dining table.
“Um, well, what time is it?” I ask the group as I rest my back against the counter, certain that one if not all five ladies will have their phones close by to keep in touch with their fighters. My cell died about an hour ago, and I’ve been too busy to charge it.
“Quarter to nine,” Hailey answers. Her immaculate pantsuit tells me she’s been working today, pimping our gorgeous Havoc boys before stopping by the house. All of the girls have day jobs except for Sadie, who is still in school, and most have kids, but they all come by and help me out when they can, which I appreciate since that means we’ll be ready to open that much sooner.
“Okay, so I’ve been here since eight this morning I think,” I reply. “Maybe seven-thirty? Whatever time it was when Patrick took Michael to Alyssa’s and went to the gym.” And, wow, it is getting late. I’m surprised Patrick hasn’t come over to throw me over his shoulder and drag me home yet.
“How many times have we told you, woman?” Alyssa asks, chomping on her Big Red gum from her seat on top of the counter across from me, her legs dangling. “You don’t have to do everything in this place on your own. We want to help!”
“I know,” I reply. “But I can’t wait for us to finally be up and running, you know?”
“Well, you’re done for the day,” Claire announces, her clothing splattered with various colors like usual since she’s in charge of repainting all the walls. “In fact, we’re gonna padlock the doors so that you take tomorrow off too.”
“What? Why?” I ask. Havoc’s closed tomorrow for New Year’s Day, so Patrick and I were planning to spend at least a few hours working.
“Because tonight we’re your five fairy godmothers, and you’ve got to get ready for the ball,” Hailey explains with a smile. “And tomorrow…well, you’re gonna be up a lot later than midnight, so you’re gonna want to sleep in.”
It’s New Year’s Eve, but Patrick and I hadn’t made any plans to go out, at least none that I knew of. The guys have all been training hard, gearing up for another team tournament that starts next week. Havoc has to try and hold on to first place again this year.
“Like Abby said, I’m a hot mess. There’s no way I can go anywhere looking like this,” I tell them, gesturing to myself. “And I don’t have any fancy dresses anymore. I left them all in Florida with Bridgette.”
“All you have to do is get your ass next door and get a shower,” Abby says. “Sadie is doing your hair, Hailey’s in charge of makeup, Claire will take care of your fingers and toes, I’ve got your shoes and wardrobe covered, and Alyssa is gonna keep Michael at her house so he can have a sleepover with Grayson. Linc, Nate, and Senn are all on daddy duty with the kids at her house tonight, so everything is taken care of.”
“Wow,” I mutter in surprise when I realize that they really do seem to have thought of everything. And it’s kind of exciting to wonder what sort of surprise Patrick has put them up to, because he has to be behind this.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Abby asks. “Let’s get you Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Booed, bitch.”
The girls and I all laugh at the petite but feisty woman’s wording before we file out the back door and head over to the house next door.
It’s been almost a year since Michael not only agreed to move with me to Cary but was genuinely excited for a fresh start and the chance to spend more time with his brother. We haven’t heard from my mom in months, and honestly I don’t really mind. Patrick and Michael have grown really close this past year, and I’m so happy for my little brother to have such a great role model nowadays. He barely even mentions his parents and doesn’t seem to miss either of them. Michael’s also taken up with Grayson and enrolled in the same youth classes at Havoc making lots of new friends there.
My evil stepfather did as expected and took a plea deal two months ago rather than go to trial and have all of his dirty secrets revealed in excruciating detail. He’ll spend the next thirteen years in the Department of Corrections where I hope big, burly men shove various objects into his every orifice. Not only do I believe in fate, but I also believe in karma, and that bitch is coming around ten-fold for him.
Patrick still carries around an unnecessary amount of guilt on his shoulders. But since we learned his father would be locked up for many long years, he seems to be doing much better. I feel safer knowing Mike can’t hurt us, but I never doubt that Patrick would risk his life to protect Michael and me from any threat. It also helps that Patrick and I have both been going to weekly counseling sessions to help us keep fighting all the demons of our pasts. Some days are harder than others, but together we get through them.
Right after Patrick won his first IFC fight last March, we bought a house together. And when the property next door to ours went up for sale a few months ago, I shared with him my idea for what felt like a soul-redeeming project, one that I hope will make a difference in a lot of women’s lives --- the Havoc Safe House. Patrick loved the idea and pitched it to the whole team.
While Abby’s extremely wealthy family has been our biggest financial supporters, Jude, Linc and all the other fighters have also made significant donations to help us with the start-up costs. In a few weeks, we’ll be ready to open the doors to women and their children who are trying to escape abusive relationships. There are no signs advertising what we are, just a regular home like all the others on the street. Only the fighters and their wives know where it’s located.
The girls and I have been redecorating and cleaning the two-story brick house from top to bottom while the guys handle all the repair work. Patrick has helped us install bulletproof doors and windows, and a state-of-the-art security system. There are panic buttons in every room in case one of the abusers tracks the victims down. And if that would ever happen, the asshole will have to deal with a shitload of pissed off fighters, first and foremost my sexy soldier, who lives right next door.
Hailey has been working on locating a few counselors to have on-site several days a week, and Alyssa has some police and legal contacts who are willing to help out with restraining orders and providing representation for court cases. Basically, the Havoc Safe House is gonna be a place that has everything I needed in my life but was missing for so many years.
Until Patrick.
A few hours later, the girls have worked their magic primping and pampering me. I’m dressed in a long, red ball gown with big, bouncy curls falling over my shoulders. As I walk into Old School, one of the city’s trendy night clubs hosting a New Year’s party, a few heads even turn, but I’m just searching for one man.
Pulling my phone from my purse, I see that it’s only fifteen minutes until midnight. Wow, I was cutting it close. I look around the crowded, noisy room again, looking for Patrick, but come up empty. Shit. Did I take too long?
I’m about ready to try calling him when an arm bands around my waist and warm lips press against my ear. “Hey, gorgeous,” he says, causing my heart to race in my chest. Patrick still has that effect on me even a year later.
Spinning around to face him, I smile at the sight of this incredibly sexy man wearing a tux once again. His golden eyes are sparkling, and a dimpled grin is stretched across his face. Grabbing his shoulders, I stand on the toes of my heels to speak next to his ear. “Hey, gorgeous,” I repeat.
“You look absolutely stunning. What’s your name?” he asks.
“Wilhelmina,” I answer, unable to help my grin or prevent my body from heating up with arousal at his role-playing game, recreating the night we met.
“I’m Patrick,” he says. “But later tonight, you’ll only be referring to me as ‘Oh God.’”
An unexpected laugh bursts out of me. “Is that right?” I ask with a tilt of my head.
&nbs
p; “Definitely,” he confirms.
We dirty dance together for a few songs before the DJ turns the music down and comes over the speakers to announce, “Two minutes until midnight! Pop a mint, apply your lip gloss and find your main squeeze. The ball’s about to drop!”
Cheers erupt around us before the music cranks back up again.
“Wanna go someplace quieter?” I yell next to Patrick’s ear.
“Hell yeah,” he says with a grin before grabbing my hand in his big, strong one and leading us toward the nearest exit.
Outside, the air’s much cooler than Daytona in early January, but I love it here in North Carolina. Could be all the great company. I miss my sister, but she visits whenever she can, and I’ll see her in a few weeks at the team tournament.
In the alley, Patrick steps in front of me, blocking the wind and warming me with his body heat as he holds my face between his palms and kisses me deeply. The passion and love are so intense between us that I’m certain they could never fade. I had no idea something so great existed, and every day I’m thankful that fate brought Patrick into my life.
When Patrick suddenly pulls away from me and goes down to his knees, I figure he’s about to recreate the first time he blew my mind. Instead, he pulls out a black, velvet ring box from his pocket and opens it, revealing a beautiful diamond solitaire that shimmers in the light of the lamp posts.
“Wilhelmina Hightower, you’re my best friend, my world, my life,” he starts. “I would do anything for you and give you all I have to give. I may never feel like I deserve you or your unconditional love, but I won’t let that stop me from trying to earn it every day for the rest of my life. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“I’ve been ready to be your wife since the first time I saw you,” I tell him honestly, swiping away the tears from underneath each eye.
“Just to clarify, is that a yes?” he asks, flashing me his dimples. “Or do you need an incentive?”
“It’s a yes, but I would never say no to the incentive,” I tease him with a matching smile.
Pulling the ring from the box, Patrick takes my hand in his and slips it onto my finger.
“It’s beautiful. Now get up here and kiss me.” I tug on his shoulders until he’s back on his feet in front of me again so I can tell him, “I love you so much.”
“I love you,” he says while brushing my hair over my shoulder. “For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until fate steals my last breath.”
“That evil motherfucker owes us at least a hundred years,” I declare.
“A thousand wouldn’t be enough,” Patrick replies, followed by a soft kiss on my lips. “But I guess we can start with a hundred.”
The End
Click here to order your copy of Luke’s book before it releases April 8, 2017!
Luke Campbell
Have you ever loved someone who is completely wrong for you?
God knows I have.
But in my defense, I fell for Megan Warner years before my older brother Eli ever noticed her, before he asked her out and made her his.
During the two years they were together, I would’ve given anything to be with Meg, anything except for losing my brother, my best friend, in a horrible accident when he was only eighteen.
Not a day goes by that I don’t miss Eli or think about the stupid mistake Meg and I made after his funeral, before she disappeared.
After four long years without a word, Megan has moved back to Cary, North Carolina but she’s not alone.
She has a three-year-old son.
My mom swears the boy with golden curls and blue eyes is Eli’s, and she’s so damn happy to get back a piece of the son she lost. But I can’t help but wonder if she’s wrong.
In fact, I think there’s a pretty good chance that Megan’s son is actually mine.
Order LUKE now!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
New York Times bestselling author Lane Hart lives in North Carolina with her husband, author D.B. West, their two daughters, a few lazy cats and a pair of rambunctious Pomeranians. When Lane's not writing she spends her free time relaxing at the beach while looking for sea turtles in the summer months and cheering on the Carolina Panthers in the fall.
Connect with Lane:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/WritingfromHart
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/lanehartbooks
Website: http://www.lanehartbooks.com
Email: [email protected]
Find all of Lane’s books here on her Amazon author page!
Keep reading for a sneak peek of Ballbuster!
Ballbuster
A Playing Dirty Sports Romance
By Lane Hart
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.
© 2016 Editor's Choice Publishing
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 publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator” at the address below.
Editor’s Choice Publishing
P.O. Box 10024
Greensboro, NC 27404
Edited by Angela Snyder
Cover by Beetiful Book Covers
WARNING: THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES 18+ ONLY. THE STORY CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND EXPLICIT SEX SCENES.
Chapter One
Kohen Hendricks
Forget days, hours, or even minutes. The defining moments of my life have always been measured in seconds. To most people, seconds are inconsequential, too small and insignificant to count. Yet, if you string a few together, it could be the difference in winning or losing, being the hero or a chump, finding a place in the history books or being completely forgotten.
Football stadiums aren’t the only place where everything can change in a matter of seconds, but that’s exactly where I was when my life was forever altered.
It was a scorching hot July morning, the first day of pre-season and a brand new year ahead of the Wilmington Wildcats. A clean slate. Time to forget last year when we went fourteen and two, all the way to the playoffs where we lost horribly in the first round. This is the time of year when all thirty-two teams in the league are pumped up, hopeful for a winning season. All of us are starting out with zero losses before going head-to-head for seventeen weeks to see who has what it takes to win the playoffs and ultimately lift the championship trophy in February.
“Now, listen closely, ladies,” Coach Griffin, a small, yet powerful man of few words, says from where he paces in front of the gigantic PowerPoint screen in our stadium auditorium. As soon as he wraps up our first team meeting of the season, we’ll all get in our cars and drive south down the highway to the campus of Pender University in South Carolina. The school will host seven grueling days of training camp. This is the part I dread most every year, the hours of standing around under the sweltering summer sun. As the team’s starting placekicker, my conditioning drills are much easier than most of the guys, so I really shouldn’t complain.
“There’s one last important announcement to make before we hit the road,” Coach continues. “We’re adding a new player to the roster today; and by doing so, making history. Now, I want you to understand how important it is for each of you to maintain a high level of respect and dignity this season. Every media organization across the country will be watching and waiting to see how you handle yourselves. You will not, and I repeat, you will not disgrace this team in any way, shape or form or you will find yourself watching the action from the front row seat of
your couch. Do you understand?”
The room of typically big, boisterous, obnoxious men falls silent since none of us know what the fuck Coach is going on about.
“I’m gonna reveal your new teammate on the screen behind me, and then you’ll have fifty-nine seconds to get every single idiotic comment, whistle, or any other juvenile sounds out of your systems. This is your one and only chance to comment; because if you want to continue to play for this team, you’ll sign the contract addendums Coach Bradley is handing out. You’ll keep your trap shut and hands off for the rest of the season. Are you ready?” he asks.
A few murmurs of agreement rise from the crowd before Coach finally clicks the mouse in his hand. Instead of diagrams of circles and arrows, there’s now a photo of a gorgeous blonde woman wearing nothing but a black sports bra and tiny matching shorts taking up the space of the entire wall.
“Holy fuck,” I mutter aloud, but it’s drowned out by the other catcalls and various curses being made by my teammates. I can’t take my eyes away from the stunner before me. Her hair is so light it almost looks white in the bright sun perfectly contrasting with her smooth, tan skin. The fact that she has big, round, innocent green eyes with the tall, curvy body of a centerfold makes her even more intriguing. In fact, I realize that I’m no longer slouching in my seat but leaning forward with my elbows digging into my knees, trying to get a closer look to catalog every inch of this unknown woman.
“All right, time’s up,” Coach grumbles before the screen goes blank. A disgruntled masculine chorus fills the auditorium before Coach continues on. “Her name is Roxanne Benson, and she’s gonna be Kohen’s backup.”
