“Daniel’s giving her a run,” Adam interjected.
“Shut up Adam,” Shane and Declan roared.
“I’m just saying,” Adam chortled.
“They’re coming in. Come on baby. You can do it,” Shane whispered.
“I want mommy,” the little girl whimpered.
“Y’all hush. Y’all are scaring Princess here,” Adam said. “We’ll go down sweetheart as soon as the race is over.”
“K.” she sniffed.
“She did it!” Shane yelled in a walk-almost run from the stands and going down to the cock pit. Adam and Declan were right on his heels.
They made it into the cock pit.
“Mommy, mommy!” Kayla cried excitedly.
“Adam what is my baby doing down here? Why is she on your shoulders? Come here baby,” Samantha scowled.
“She wanted her mommy. So I brought her to you,” Adam said lifting the baby off of his shoulders and handing her to Samantha.
“Hey baby, did you enjoy the race?” Samantha asked kissing the little girl on the top of her curly head.
“There’s Tracey,” Adam said.
“Auntie TeeTee,” Kayla called out.
“I’ll meet up with y’all latter. I’m going to get Kayla out of here. Tell Tracey I’ll see her later,” Sam said leaving the pit with Kayla her arms. “We’ll see auntie later sweetie.”
“K. Mommy.”
Samantha needed to get out of the stadium and quickly. She walked briskly over to her car where she unlocked her door and placed Kayla in her car seat, got in and pulled out of the stadium. She was on the highway when she’d remembered she’d left her bag and cell phone.
“Oh heck,” She cried, driving to the quickest exit to turn around and go back to the stadium.
Tracey accepted her trophy, took the necessary photos, signed autographs, and did the necessary interviews before she ran to her husband and jumped in his arms.
“Congratulations, Suga’!” Shane smiled, embracing his wife in a bear hug.
“Just get me out of here before I get sick,” Tracey murmured. “Besides I’m ready to do our own brand of celebrating.”
“Let’s go. Don’t even think about stopping to talk to anyone or sign anything. We’ll make our apologies later,” Shane demanded.
“Sounds good to me,” Tracey, screeched as Shane lifted her up in his arms and walked with her out of the arena.
“Love you baby,” she smiled up at him.
“Love you more,” he returned her smile.
They were met by Stacy and her mom.
“You did it, Tracey,” she hollered jumping up and down.
“Yes I did. Glad you could make it, sweetheart,” Tracey smiled over at the teenager who looked far better now than she had two years ago. Her brown eyes and cheeks were glowing from excitement.
“Are you kidding me? You sent her those passes and she couldn’t sleep all night worrying about you and this race. I think we beat you all here,” Stacy’s mom, Claudette, chuckled.
“Y’all are stopping by the house to celebrate aren’t you?” Shane asked.
“We sure are,” Stacy replied.
“Great, we’ll meet y’all there. My wife here is heavy,” he said, which garnered him a punch in the arm.
“I am not. I don’t feel that great though,” Tracey moaned.
“Uh gotta go. See y’all in a bit,” Shane said walking briskly towards his truck.
“Oh I am not going to make it Shane,” she cried.
Shane quickly stood her up against the truck, pulled his shirt over his head and held it to Tracey’s mouth where she threw up what appeared to be everything she’d eaten the night before.
“Baby I told you to eat something before the race. That’s it. You will not be racing in the finals. I can’t risk you hurting yourself out there,” he said.
“Trust me. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m finished with this. I’ll not risk my life nor my baby’s to prove a point,” she groaned. “Let’s go. I need to brush my teeth.”
“There’s some bottled water in the truck you can rinse with until we get home,” he said.
“Home sounds good to me,” she smiled. “I got my redemption.”
“Twice over I’d say,” Shane responded, returning her smile.
~SERENITY KING~
Keep reading for an excerpt from Someone to Watch Over Me by Serenity King
Chapter One
London Seagram sat in her office at her desk with the lights off and the door shut. She rarely had any outside communication with any of the employees and knew most thought her a bitch. She didn’t care. She didn’t bother anyone and she didn’t want anyone to bother her. She did her job —treated everyone fairly and with respect. London didn’t have time for foolishness, and most of the employees in this particular branch in Boston were young and foolish. London herself was only twenty-eight, but felt eons older than most of the people here. All the women wanted to do was gossip or get the 411 on her soon to be ex-husband. She didn’t have time for gossip and she damn sure wasn’t giving anybody any information on her husband. They might be going through a divorce but she still loved him and she wasn’t opening any doors for another woman to walk through.
The back of her skull throbbed with pain, and she rubbed it gingerly. The last thing she needed was another damn headache.
Ever since she and Connor had announced that they were splitting over a year ago, everyone wanted to—or thought that they had the right to—be in her business, and the stress was making her sick. The reporters were driving her bat-shit crazy, as were her parents, Connor’s parents, and Connor himself.
Connor had left message after message. He wasn’t signing the divorce papers unless she’d agree to his outrageously large settlement offer. It would have been easier if he’d been trying to tap her for money. She didn’t need or want his property or money. Having money brought on a whole set of problems and issues that she didn’t want to deal with.
Everyone thought she’d married him for his money anyway, especially his high-society mother. Of course, it wasn’t true. She loved Connor from the bottom of her heart. But sometimes, even love wasn’t enough. She’d sure learned that the hard way. She was tired of it all. London needed a vacation, and fast. Too bad she had so much work to do before she took one.
Connor and his two brothers, Richard and Jackson, held interests in the Seagram Hotels. Connor had controlling interest as the eldest son. He held the position of CEO. The business had passed down to him after his father’s retirement five years ago. Connor was the only one of the brothers who actually worked in the hotel business. Richard was the family attorney and Jackson was an emergency room doctor at Greenwich Hospital.
London had been the manager at the Seagram Hotel in Atlanta when she’d met Connor. They’d had a whirlwind relationship that was probably doomed from the start. Not by her, or even by him, but by everyone else: Her parents, most definitely his parents, and the majority of Connor’s business associates.
But London had taken one look at the broad-shouldered, six-foot-three-inch, blue-eyed man and fallen, almost instantly, in love with him. Her attraction to Connor had scared her at first. She’d never been with a Caucasian man and she didn’t understand her feelings or what to do about them. She’d been shocked when, after a week of meetings in Atlanta, Connor had approached her and asked her out to dinner.
Being seen with the owner of the hotel she worked for could’ve caused lots of problems for her. She’d voiced her concerns to him, and he assured her that it was only dinner and that unless she planned on telling someone, he didn’t see gossip as a big problem because he had no intention of announcing his business to anyone.
That had been the beginning of their relationship. They’d been dating for six months when he’d proposed to her. She’d been skeptical, feeling it was a little soon to be getting married. She’d also had plenty of doubts. Connor had been quite the ladies’ man. It seemed as if everywhere he’d taken he
r, some socialite had always made sure London knew that the other woman had had some kind of relationship with Connor. She had to give him credit, though. He’d told her that he wasn’t a saint and that, although he’d never really had a serious relationship; he’d had affairs with many women.
But that part of his life, he said, looking into her eyes, was over. She’d believed him. They’d been married shortly thereafter. Five years later they were headed for a divorce.
Her head throbbed so violently that her vision blurred and she rested her forehead on her desk for a moment. Must be the stress she’d been going through.
Connor had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. While not exactly poor, London had come from very modest beginnings. She’d gone to college on scholarships and worked two part-time jobs. The hard work had paid off. She’d earned an undergraduate degree in finance and her MBA in Business and Management and had gone on to take a post graduate course in hotel management.
London had earned enough over the years to buy her parents a better home and to buy a townhouse for herself. Her friend Shayna, whom she’d met at Georgia Tech, was responsible for that. Shayna was a financial planner and had helped her to increase her portfolio and manage her money wisely. Shayna had not always been a financial planner. She’d worked on Wall Street as a broker and decided that the stress of the job was a little too much, especially after her mom had become ill. She’d left Wall Street and, as far as London knew, had never looked back.
Shayna lived in New York now, and her schedule was always hectic. They hadn’t talked in months. London missed her crazy friend.
“Ooh,” London groaned out loud. Her entire body tensed up as she grabbed her head with her hands. “Oh God! Why now? Why me?”
These headaches had become such a bother that, with the suggestion of her medical doctor, she’d actually made an appointment to see a neurologist next week. Not that it would do any good. She was sure that it was just stress, from all that was going on in her life, that had started her migraines. She’d had headaches in college, too, but never this debilitating. Even breathing hurt.
London wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a knock at her door. Her head was hurting so bad that she might have just heard the hammering going on in her skull. Freak, this one was a doozy. They usually only lasted a few minutes but the one last night had stuck around for almost ten minutes, and she’d had the one today for over twenty minutes.
“What’s wrong?” came a familiar voice from somewhere inside her office. Was that Connor? Or was she hearing things? London wasn’t sure, and her head was hurting too bad to even think about lifting it. She must’ve cried out in pain, because the voice she thought she’d imagined was real and Connor was bending down in front of her.
“London, what’s wrong?” His usually well-modulated voice was louder than usual, and his eyes were wide.
She wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing here but thought better of it. Tossing out insults was not going to make the pain go away.
“My…head…hurts…bad. Oh God, Connor, I think I’m going to be sick.” She cried out in pain and started to get up, but shifting her body only a few inches made her feel light-headed. Connor’s left hand pushed her back down and his right set a trash can in front of her face. She heaved and vomited until she felt as if every piece of food she’d ever eaten was being expelled from her body. When she finished, Connor was kneeling in front of her again with a wet towel in his hand.
“Here you go,” he whispered wiping her face with the towel. “Should I take you to Emergency Room?”
She tried to shake her head no but didn’t want to risk the pain. She opted for laying her head back on her desk. “I…don’t think so. It should pass…in a minute,” she whispered so as not to aggravate the pain.
“Are you sure?” Connor asked in a voice full of concern. “I’ve never known you to suffer headaches so bad that you’ve become ill. What’s going on, London? Is the press still hounding you?”
“Not… as much as they used to. There’s always a stray one here and there. Nothing I can’t handle. I think we’re becoming old news. Now, if my folks would lay off my back everything would probably be all right in London’s world,” she murmured around another bout of pain.
“You’ve been working too hard. You need to slow down, London. You don’t even have to work at all. You have plenty of money that you rarely use as it is. I’m taking you up to the private suite. No objections,” he added firmly.
She had objections—plenty of objections— but the thought of resting her head on a cool pillow stole all thoughts of resistance. “Maybe if I lie down for a bit the headache will go away and I’ll stop seeing double,” she mumbled, pushing herself to her feet. Immediately, the room whirled around her as if she were on a ride at a carnival. “Whoa,” she said.
“Come on.” Connor bent down and scooped her up like she was no bigger than a sack of potatoes. London shrieked and immediately wished she hadn’t…the pain in her head intensified.
“Just keep still and lay your head against me,” Connor commanded.
Oh, how she would have loved to give in to that firm voice, but…“Connor you can’t carry me out of here. Think of the employees…and the media.”
“I can, I will, and I am. No one will see us but security. Or have you forgotten about the private elevators leading to the suite?” Connor replied.
“Ugh,” she groaned. It must be the headache because she most certainly had forgotten.
“No worries. Relax, sweetheart, I’ll have you upstairs and in bed in a jiffy,” he remarked as he walked out of London’s office towards the private bank of elevators leading to the presidential suite.
London closed her eyes and relaxed against Connor’s broad chest. It felt good being held like this, even if it was only for a few moments. She’d savor this feeling while she could. It had been a long time since Connor had held her so tenderly. Anyway, the divorce was almost final so this was probably a one-shot deal.
London sighed deeply and nestled herself further into Connor’s chest. She heard him tell security to make sure that there were no paparazzi lurking around. He barked out a few more orders as he stepped into the elevator. So like Connor to take control of the situation. So authoritative.
“Is your headache getting any better London? Are you sure you don’t want to go to ER?” he asked. “Never mind, don’t answer. Just relax. I can see by the pinched expression on your face that you’re still in pain.”
The elevator gave a quiet hiss as it reached their floor and stopped. The doors opened.
Available at:
http://beautifultroublepublishing.com/genres/new-releases-home-page/someone-to-watch-over-me-ebook.html
Other stories by Serenity King
Beautiful Trouble Publishing:
• Someone to Watch Over Me
• Through the Fire
• The Men of Whiskey Creek: Dillon
• Simply Beautiful
• Diamond’s Seduction
• Let’s Ride
Shara Azod, LLC:
• A Midsummer Tryst
• Peaches and Cream
• Memories Unleashed
• Claiming Sydney
• A Night to Remember
• My, My, My (a short flash)
Mocha Memoirs Press:
• The Princess & the Professor
Serenity King
Author Serenity King has been reading romances ever since she was sixteen years old and her auntie first placed a Harlequin in her hands. Now King writes interracial/multicultural contemporary romance and erotica that feature her fierce devotion to resilient women and strong passion for family-oriented Alpha men who live, love, and fight for their women.
She currently lives in the New York area with her husband and children. King loves feedback and welcomes readers to e-mail her at: [email protected].
Blog:
http://serenitykingsblog.com
http:/
/serenitykingexpressions.blogspot.com/
Web Site:
http://www.serenityking.com
Yahoo Group Homepage:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Serenity_King
Group E-mail:
[email protected]
A Race for Redemption
A powerful conglomerate, Powell Industries has entered the world of stock car racing. It isn’t too risky an endeavor since the CEOs daughter’s favorite things are driving fast and fast cars. As beautiful as she is driven, Tracey Powell is one of the most talented drivers on the circuit. However, a string of wrecks has caused her father to make a change. Now her former trainer is driving the Powell industries car. Determined to reclaim her place behind the wheel, Tracey battles her way back. Now Tracey’s not only looking to be the first African American woman to bring home the trophy—she’s also looking for Redemption.
Shane Westbrook has been the reigning champion five years running. His life is grand as a result. He has everything: money, respect, and all the women he could want. The trouble is that he doesn’t want just any woman. He wants the one woman who walked away—Tracey. With the last two races coming up he knows Tracey is thinking about winning. The race is on—the prize has yet to be determined.
Connect with Serenity on Substance B
Substance B is a new platform for independent authors to directly connect with their readers. Please visit Serenity’s Substance B page where you can:
• Sign up for Serenity’s newsletter
• Send a message to Serenity
• See all platforms where Serenity’s books are sold
• Request autographed eBooks from Serenity
Visit Substance B today to learn more about your favorite independent authors.
Race for Redemption Page 10
