Some Like It Geek: A Really Big Set of Romances

by Box Set

  “And became Dr. Pepper…”

  She groans and rolls her eyes. “Yes, because that’s the first time anyone’s teased me with that nickname.” She looks down and fiddles with her napkin. “But you know, for the first time I actually…I think I like my name now.”

  And going with the instinct I always relied on as a SEAL, I reach across and clasp her hand. She glances up, and a bright, warm grin spreads across her face. I catalog this one right along with all the others. I can’t wait to bring out more. She squeezes my hand back.

  I rub a thumb across her hand. “How do you…how do you know if you love someone?” I can’t believe how easily I ask this.

  Her eyes go wide, and she sets her napkin down. She puts her hand over mine.

  “I’m not sure,” she whispers.

  “Have you ever…?”

  “Nope. You?”

  I shake my head and keep my gaze trained on hers. “I’d like to figure it out, though. With you. If you’re willing.”

  There’s a suspicious bit of moisture in her eyes, and she nods. “I’m willing. Very willing.”

  “Well, okay then.”

  And then I grin, big and wide, and suddenly my heart feels as big as this red café and the city it’s in. We’re going to do this.

  Man, I’m one lucky bastard. Deadpool, my new favorite X-man, would have to agree—Pepper is the right girl to bring out the hero in me.

  I pull on her hand until she follows with her body, and I caress her face and seal our promise with a café-safe kiss on those beautiful lips.

  THE END

  Follow the team as they go to the playoffs! This is Book 1 in Angela's new Hurling series. To learn about the release of book 2, which is Aiden's story, be sure to join my newsletter.

  Author’s Note

  I had a lot of fun writing this story—not only writing a contemporary, but also writing about this little known sport (in our neck of the world). I used to play Gaelic football in the late 90s when I lived in Atlanta, and enjoyed all the friends I made, both Irish and American, and all the craic we had! Gaelic football is another Irish sport played with a round ball like a volleyball and looks like a strange mix of soccer, rugby, basketball, and volleyball. It’s governed also by the GAA. We were only starting to have a hurling team when I stopped playing, and they hadn’t yet formed a camogie team (the name for the women’s version of hurling), but I did get to see it played when we went to the different championship games. Since then, it’s become much more popular for new clubs to form in America for hurling than it is for Gaelic football.

  I grew up in Sarasota, and so I enjoyed highlighting my old hometown. The Purple Chow is fictitious, but is a play on the nickname for the Van Wezel Performing Arts Center, which locals call The Purple Cow. It has the honor of being the world's only purple seashell-shaped theater.

  The Mocha Cabana where Luke and Pepper had their coffee date was named by Kate Warren, one of my “assassins”—my fan group Angela’s Time-Traveling Steampunk Regency Assassins.

  While I was editing this story, Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus announced their decision to close down “The Greatest Show on Earth.” John Ringling and the circus were a big part of Sarasota’s history. I grew up near the Ringling Museum, a neighborhood that once had—no lie—pink sidewalks. One of my best friends growing up was a granddaughter of Cannonball Zacchinni, one of the brothers who were human cannonballs. In a future book in this series I hope to highlight more of the circus history of Sarasota.

  I took liberty with Gainesville having a semi-pro ice hockey team because I needed Phil in the same town with Pepper where she was getting her medical degree. Right now, there are only semi-pro teams in Estero, Orlando, and Pensacola. I could have had him commute from Orlando, but he’s too much of a douche to go to that much trouble for someone else.

  Acknowledgments

  I’d first like to thank Olivia Devon for messaging me one day back in October of 2015 asking me if I’d like to be a part of this boxed set with her and other amazing writers whom I admire. I think I pretty much immediately said yes?

  I’d like to thank the following folks who read early versions and helped me make this a better story! Jami Gold, Shaila Patel, Zoe York, Olivia Devon, Madelynne Ellis, Jinx Kammer, and Anne Marsh. 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: Tauline, Megan, and Courtney, thank you!

  My editors Gwen Hayes, Jessa Slade, Erynn Newman, and Julie Glover had my back again, which I appreciate so much.

  I’d also like to thank Johnny O’Sullivan, who was my former Gaelic football coach. He was so helpful in reading over relevant scenes and making sure I accurately portrayed his native sport. I owe ya one, Johnny!

  And to Dr. Harcourt, a local sports med doc, who let me observe him and his staff at the University of South Alabama. He gave me a great run-down of sports medicine and helped me figure out which injuries Pepper, Luke and the rest would sustain. His staff was helpful too.

  I also want to thank the members of my facebook fan group—Angela's Time-Traveling Steampunk Regency Assassins—for their help and support! And to Kate who won the contest for naming the coffee shop :)

  To Pam, Diane, and the rest of the crew at the Government Street location of Starbucks who keep me supplied in food and tea when I camp out there to write/revise; I get so much work done there and it helps me stay off social media. I wrote and revised most of this book there.

  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

  Angela Quarles is a RWA RITA® Winner and USA Today bestselling author of time travel, steampunk, and now contemporary 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

  Mailing List: www.angelaquarles.com/join-my-mailing-list

  @angelaquarles

  authorangelaquarles

  Also by Angela Quarles

  Beer and Groping in Las Vegas

  an erotic geek romantic comedy

  Must Love Time Travel Series

  Must Love Breeches (Book One)

  Must Love Chainmail (Book Two)

  Must Love Kilts (Book Three)

  Steam Me Up, Rawley

  a steampunk romance

  The Adorkable Girl and the Geek

  Gone Geek 5

  Sidney Bristol

  About This Book

  The Adorkable Girl and the Geek, Gone Geek 5 - Sidney Bristol

  Best friends Nate and Cara have the same secret, they're hopelessly in love with each other. Embarking on an emotional and often boundary testing discovery, they delve into the depth of their feelings. But Nate has secret desires that might tear them apart before they've even begun.

  Chapter One

  Nate Vaughn pulled the last bo
x out of the closet, determined to finally finish moving in. Three years after he’d gotten his keys to the apartment.

  He’d been avoiding this box. Just looking at the battered exterior made his stomach knot up and his throat constrict. He gently pulled the top flap up, and the others unfolded in a plume of dust.

  Great. And he’d just mopped for the first time since ever.

  Battered frames with pieces of cardboard between each one were slotted tightly together. Except for the one on top. Last time he’d opened this box, he’d made it as far as the prom picture before he couldn’t look at any more. Nate couldn’t surround himself with her smiling face. Wasn’t it enough that he loved a woman who would never feel the same way about him?

  He was a pathetic moron, but after fifteen or so years of being in love with her and denying it, these days he just accepted that no one would take the place of her.

  Cara Logan.

  The girl from 21B, the apartment next door. Or, she had been while he was growing up.

  His best friend.

  And in two short weeks…she’d be here.

  He blew out a breath and swiped the rag over their smiling faces.

  Prom.

  What a night.

  Their little group, Cara, Josh and Bryan, had spent most of it in a corner of the dance hall, discussing their next Dungeons and Dragons campaign and playing Magic: The Gathering. But a photographer had captured a few candid moments.

  This one… This one captured it all in one image.

  He sat forward, elbows on his knees. Cara was to his left, behind him in the shot, but she’d leaned against his back for the picture, arms draped over his shoulders. Her glasses were crooked and the flash reflected off her braces. The others weren’t in the frame. Just the two of them. And they looked…like a couple. Like, for this one, single solitary moment, they belonged together.

  Nate scrubbed his hand over his face.

  Man, he was fucked up.

  At thirty years old, he should not be hung up on a girl he still called Shortcake and Cara-bear. She’d always been so out of his league. Smart. Funny. Confident. He was pretty sure the TV show New Girl was secretly about Cara, only she was a lot more awkward.

  His phone vibrated.

  He glanced at the clock, frowning.

  It wasn’t time yet. Why was Cara calling early?

  He pulled out his phone and groaned.

  Ellie. Shit.

  Nate jabbed the Answer button, guilt gnawing at him.

  “Hi, Ellie.”

  “Nate. Finally decide to answer, huh?” Her words slurred a bit, which meant she was drinking.

  “Sorry, I was busy with the holidays.”

  “Merry fucking Christmas.” Ellie muttered a curse. “So, busy tonight?”

  Nate glanced at the box, and a dozen other pictures of Cara.

  “Naaaatttee?”

  “Sorry, Ellie, I can’t tonight.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Ellie—”

  “Bullshit! Ever since you said Cara was coming to visit, you’ve been blowing me off. At least have the decency to admit it.”

  Nate leaned against the back of the sectional and stared at the old, hardwood floors. What was he supposed to say to that? It was the truth. He and Ellie had an arrangement. She knew his heart belonged to Ellie, and he knew she didn’t have a heart to give. It was just sex. Two people who liked things a little weird in the bedroom, but were so emotionally unavailable it wouldn’t be fair to anyone else. They worked. As friends.

  “God, Nate, at least admit it to yourself.”

  “You’re right, Ellie. I’m sorry. I’m a shitty friend.”

  “Finally! So long as you admit it, I don’t care.” Something rustled in the background and she sighed. “Okay, so I’m lonely. If we aren’t going to fuck, at least talk to me? I’m still your friend.”

  He winced at her crude language. Ellie liked to shock people. Said it showed her immediately who and what she was dealing with. Still, he liked to think that there was at least some…kindness in what they shared. She was right, they were friends.

  “I just…I haven’t seen Cara in a year. We talk almost every day, but…I haven’t seen her.”

  “And…?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Pft, it’s you. You’re worried it won’t be the same. You won’t feel the same. You should really just cut out your heart like I did. It’s easier this way.”

  Nate chuckled, because Ellie was likely drunk and needing someone to humor her. Deep down, Nate knew she was hurting. Ellie had a heart, she just liked to bury it under a lot of other stuff. She did have him nailed down, though.

  Part of him wondered if his palms would still get sweaty around Cara. If he’d get pulled in by her.

  “You could just tell her how you feel, you know? Most girls dig that shit.”

  “You don’t know Cara.” He wasn’t…good enough for her. Smart enough.

  “I don’t—the hell I don’t. I know you, so I’m pretty sure I know her. You talk about her often enough. If I had a heart, it might get hurt.”

  Nate winced. Yeah, there weren’t many people he could talk to Cara about. Josh and Bryan were both here, in L.A., but he could never admit to them how he felt. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d picked up on it, though. When it came to dances, he was the one who asked Cara to go with him, while Josh and Bryan showed up alone. No one had ever commented on it, but that was the way it’d been. Josh and Bryan, Cara and Nate.

  “How long are you going to be abstinent on me?” Ellie asked. “You’re always super rough when you haven’t had pussy in a while.”

  “Ellie.”

  “What? It’s the truth. Or are you trying to pretend like you don’t use me like a fuck toy while you think about Cara?”

  “That’s over the line, Ellie.”

  “Dude. You’re in love with her, and you fuck me. It’s a little twisted, and I just want you to realize that.”

  “I know. Okay?” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know I’m fucked up, thanks for pointing it out. Happy?”

  This—this was why as soon as he’d known Cara was coming to town, he had made it a point to not see Ellie. It was one thing to have a friend with benefits when Cara wasn’t around…but if she came here…it felt wrong. Like he would be cheating on her. But they weren’t together. They weren’t a thing. Just in his head.

  Ellie blew out a breath.

  “I’m sorry, Nate. I’m drunk. I’m surly. I’m a bitch.”

  “Yeah.” Nate sighed. “I should have…been better. You’re right, I…have this weird, one-sided loyalty when it comes to Cara. I’ve been a shitty friend. How are you? Anything happen over the holidays with…?”

  “Nope. Lawyer says it’ll be another couple of weeks before something happens. I think Aaron’s people are going to try to settle everything out of court in one, lump thing. Sucks, because I…he should pay, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  Nate clenched his hand into a fist. There were few people in this world he wanted to punch repeatedly like Adam Willis, the former host of Legend, a YouTube video game show that was in direct competition with the show Nate worked on. Adam’s reputation for being a dick was well established, but no one would talk about the way he harassed women. At least not until Tamara Roh stood up to him in a very public way. The YouTube video of her putting him on his ass had over a million views. Once she’d gone to war, other women had followed. There were at least a dozen of them who’d come forward, most pressing charges of one kind or another.

  Women like Ellie, Adam’s former personal assistant, who now worked for Josh and their show, HitPoint. She’d become part of the family. She didn’t talk about working for Adam or what’d happened, but Nate could see the scars in the shadows of her eyes.

  “You talked to Tamara?”

  “Uh, no, she’s out of town. We texted a little.”

  “I talked to her a time or two. Tamara’s cool.”

  “
I want to be her when I grow up.” Ellie giggled, which meant she was a lot drunker than he thought. Ellie was…hard laughs and coarse language. Not giggles.

  Nate circled the sectional and sat down. It was time to be a good friend. He couldn’t be what Ellie needed right now, but he could listen to her. They would always be friends.

  Cara Logan hefted her duffle bag into the back seat of her step-father’s car. Her mother stood at the garage door into the house, arms crossed over her chest. Cara tried to not make eye contact with her, but she could feel Mom’s eyes on her the whole time.

  “Denis, are you sure the roads are clear?” Mom’s voice had that whine in it.

  Cara squeezed her eyes shut. When Mom whined, Denis usually gave in. For once, Cara wanted something to go right. Just this once.

  “It’ll be fine, dear.” Denis patted his pockets. “I forgot my phone. Let me go grab it real quick, Cara.”

  Her heart leapt up into her throat and she wanted to claw at him, tell him to come back. She’d go get the phone.

  Please, don’t leave me alone with her…

  Cara stared at her reflection in the mirror. She could see her mother’s face in the glass, frowning, deep lines across her brow.

  Dad had aged her, and not in a good way. Mom didn’t smile like she used to. Denis made her happy, but deep down, Mom still had open wounds. Much like Cara.

  “Why are you spending your money on this trip? Is it really worth it? Is this wise? You’ve screwed up so much lately, is this what you should be doing? Have you thought about going back to school?” Mom spoke in a rush, saying the same questions she’d pelted Cara with, all in one breath.

  Cara wanted to cry. To crawl under the car and die. But she couldn’t.