I tried using Jedi mind tricks to make him put his hand back, but he didn’t. He spent the next half hour asking me about how much I’d been playing, and discussing tennis strategy with me. Never once did he bring up the incident at my old school.
“You need to get registered for classes, and I’ll text you when I think would be a good time for you to watch a practice.”
“I don’t text. No cell phone.”
“Then I’ll call you,” he said, standing to leave.
Yes, please.
Continue reading Break Point now
What is it about this guy?
On paper, he’s one hundred percent wrong for me. His e-mails are equal parts annoying and funny.
Okay, more funny than annoying. More like refreshing. Different. Exciting.
But as I stand next to him now, he’s giving me head-to-toe tingles, and I find myself dwelling on his e-mails.
Meet smart, sexy career girl and New York snob, Charli Richards. She has everything except happiness until the day she meets Layton Griffin. It’s a random encounter on an airplane; it couldn’t mean anything, right?
Layton isn’t even remotely close to who Charli sees herself hooking up with . . . ever. Her mom and best friend agree he’s not for her, but he makes her feel something exciting, awakens her world.
But then Layton changes, going to great lengths for Charli to see him for who he really is.
Will those changes bring them closer together, or will she never be able to see him in the same way again?
I half sat, half leaned at the bar waiting for her. It was an overpriced, cliché hole-in-the-wall in Manhattan she’d suggested. Best burgers in New York, she’d written in her e-mail. She’d assumed I’d want something big and heavy to eat, overselling the place to me and avoiding the fat fucking elephant in the room.
Which was me, so I didn’t take the burger suggestion as a slight. I deserved that one. Especially after the sushi debacle.
But I wasn’t one bit hungry for burgers—not tonight. To be honest, I was famished for her. I was so fucking starving for this woman, I’d gone without an apology, showed up like a good little puppy without even as much as an apologetic whisper. No sorry or a single freaking misgiving about what had happened the last time we saw each other. Zip.
Now I sat in the bar area like one of those big whales at Sea World, waiting in line for a dead fish. It was dingy and dimly lit, but the Yelpers loved this joint. Of course I’d googled it, making sure I was hip enough to show my face in the establishment.
Impatient, I swirled the Scotch in my tumbler, the ice clinking against the glass. Out of habit, I pulled my shirt down at the waist, making sure it covered my waistband. It was a habit I still couldn’t quite shake. I’d worn a waffle-knit shirt and khakis, the new trendy kind, elastic at the ankle and a drawstring at the waist—all the bells and whistles.
I wasn’t sure why I felt like I had to forgo my usual look. The only other times we’d met up, I’d been wearing a music tee and jeans. Except for the premiere, but tonight was different from the other times . . . I hoped. That assumption was probably false and premature on my part.
As I took a sip of my drink, the liquid burned the back of my throat and warmed me all the way going down, heightening my arousal and calming my nerves at the same time.
Tiny bells chimed above the door, signaling it was opening—a touch that was out of place for New York City, but I assumed it was part of the charm of this joint.
She stepped over the threshold, shaking the snow off her now longer hair before swiping her gloved hand down the front of her coat. I saw a hint of red peeking out from underneath her black coat, reminding me it was just past Valentine’s Day, making me wish I’d come earlier in the month. She could have been mine.
She still hadn’t seen me, so I indulged in a second or ten, allowing my gaze to roam her small frame all the way down to the fur-lined ankle boots . . . with a heel . . . on her feet.
Unable to get up or move toward her for fear she’d reject me all over again, I turned back toward the bar and caught the score of a basketball game on TV while tossing back the remainder of my Scotch. I felt her presence singe the back of my neck before she laid eyes on me.
Willing myself not to turn and seek her out, I ran a hand through my hair and mentally chastised myself.
You pussy. Just look at the woman.
My hair was styled the same, so she should recognize me from the back. At least, that’s the sorry excuse I gave myself . . .
Continue reading To See You now.
Read other books by Rachel Blaufeld
Gah, so much goes into producing a book.
These acknowledgments never quite do it justice.
Thank you to my family, both immediate and extended, for putting up with me. You never quite know how I’ll show up: showered or not, makeup or scary natural, clothing or pajamas. I appreciate your patience and tolerance for my creative spurts.
Much thanks to Joyce Lamb for her copy-editing expertise. Despite my love of italics, she still took me under her wing.
After ten covers with Sarah Hansen, you’d think I would be used to her beautiful way of transforming my story into a single image. I’m not. Thank you for number eleven.
To Pam Berehulke and Sarina Bowen for general book conversation, lamenting, and fact-finding.
Sarina, thanks for the early feedback and swift smack in the butt to get going.
Pam, thank you for the late night messages (always).
To Terilyn S. and Jenn D. for early beta reading, commentary, and hand-holding.
To Becca Mysoor, to whom I’ll forever be indebted for her feedback and mutual love of doughnuts.
To Queen V (Virginia Carey) for listening to me nonstop and her eagle-eye proofreading.
To Nicole Snyder, my PA, my trusted right hand. And sometimes left. Thank you for all you do, 24/7.
To Christy & Fab…I’m not sure how many books there are between the three of us, but we’ve been together since day one. That means more than a number.
To Jenn Watson and Social Butterfly, thanks for taking a chance on me and bringing this book into the world.
To the amazing women of E.M. Tippetts for formatting and making this book work everywhere and anywhere.
To all the readers, bloggers, reviewers, who took a chance on me years ago or maybe for the first time—THANKS! You make the reading world go-round. I know you work very hard at spreading the word, and there are not enough thanks or glasses of wine to show appreciation.
Rachel Blaufeld is a bestselling author of Romantic Suspense, New Adult, Coming-of-Age Romance, and Sports Romance. A recent poll of her readers described her as insightful, generous, articulate, and spunky. Originally a social worker, Rachel creates broken yet redeeming characters. She’s been known to turn up the angst like cranking up the heat in the dead of winter.
A devout coffee drinker and doughnut eater, Rachel spends way too many hours in local coffee shops, downing the aforementioned goodies while she plots her ideas. Her tales may all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but they end as lusciously as her treats.
As a side note, Blaufeld, also a longtime blogger and an advocate of woman-run anything, is fearless about sharing her opinion. She captured the ears of stay-at-home and working moms on her blog, BacknGrooveMom, chronicling her adventures in parenting tweens and running a business, often at the same time. To her, work/life/family balance is an urban legend, but she does her best.
Rachel has also blogged for The Huffington Post and Modern Mom. Most recently, her insights can be found in USA TODAY, where she shares conversations and reading recommendations in posts called In Bed With a Romance Author on the blog Happy Ever After.
Rachel lives around the corner from her childhood home in Pennsylvania with her family and two beagles. Her obsessions include running, coffee, basketball, icing-filled doughnuts, antiheroes, and mighty fine epilogues.
When she isn’t writing, she can be f
ound courtside, tweeting about hoops as her son plays, or walking around the house wearing earplugs while her other son, the drummer, bangs away.
To connect with Rachel, she’s most active in her private reading group, The Electric Readers, where she shares insider information and intimate conversation with her readers:
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www.rachelblaufeld.com
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If you liked this book, feel free to leave a review where you bought it or on Goodreads. Send me an e-mail when you do, and I will thank you personally!
Heart Stronger
Copyright © 2018 Rachel Blaufeld
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-0-9970707-8-1
Copy Editing by
Joyce Lamb
Content Editing by
Becca Mysoor, Evident Ink
Proofread by
Virginia Tesi Carey
Cover design by
© Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations, LLC
www.okaycreations.com
Photo by
Eric Battershell
Cover Model
Rick Van Den Bosch
Interior design and formatting by:
www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com
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Without limiting the rights under the 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 the above author of this book.
This 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.
Warning:
Content may contain explicit sexual content and crude language, and is intended for mature audiences. Parental/reader discretion advised.
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