Hi friends! I wanted to give you a sneak peek of “Playboy’s Reward: A Fake Relationship Hockey Romance” (Tennessee Thunderbolts Book 4). It is available for pre-order now on all platforms and will be released on Oct. 27, 2022. Hope you enjoy chapter one!
Harper
The sound of my keys ricocheting off the little dish on the console table clangs loudly in my empty condo. Not just empty, lonely. My bag slips off my shoulder and thuds on the bare floor.
I sigh, flipping on the foyer lights before locking the door behind me.
I’m grumpy. Exhausted. And hangry as hell.
I kick off my heels on the way to the kitchen and peer into the refrigerator, the light illuminating another type of emptiness.
“I forgot to get groceries,” I mutter to myself, shutting the refrigerator door.
Sighing again, just because I feel like it, I uncork a bottle of red wine, pour myself a generous glass, and open the Uber Eats app on my phone.
I scroll through the options. Salads and sandwiches, pizzas and burgers, sushi and…my stomach rumbles. I order the jalapeño poppers and nachos, extra beef, extra guac, extra cheese. And a Coke. I deserve a Coke.
Once my order is confirmed, I drop my phone on the kitchen counter, walk around my condo, flipping on lights and opening the blinds I forgot about this morning in my mad dash to make it out the door on time for work. I enter my bedroom, wriggle out of my pencil skirt and blouse, and toss on some leggings and a baggy T-shirt from college. Pulling my hair up in a high ponytail, I relocate to my living room, grab my wine glass, and sink into my favorite chair, staring out at Downtown Knoxville.
Nearly a year ago, I moved back to Tennessee, only twenty minutes from the town I grew up in, as a result of a job offer I couldn’t turn down and my mother’s incessant nagging that it’s time to come home.
Nearly every weekday since, I’ve dragged my ass out of bed at the crack of dawn to work out, run, or move my body in some way. In the past eleven months, I’ve made investments and saved money, donated to animal rescue centers, and started journaling. I have an eleven-year-old pen pal in Thailand. I shop local.
And I’ve never been lonelier.
I gulp my wine, frustrated that so many nights end like this—me, drinking wine, in my living room, alone. My days at work are fulfilling; I love my job. I love working with the Coyotes franchise. I love football…and men who play football.
But now that I’m working for the team, I’ve drawn a line in the sand. I’m not hooking up with any of the players. That commitment, along with the hours I’m logging at the office, have made my dating life nonexistent.
But who cares if I haven’t dated? I’ve fantasized about my sexy neighbor who lives on the floor above mine, ahem, the penthouse. Does that count as something? Sometimes, if I crane my neck the right way, I can see him sipping a scotch on his balcony, his easy laughter comforting. More often than not, he’s got a hot woman with him but who am I to judge? Instead, I take a cold shower and meditate before bed.
I’m trying, dammit.
But I am exhausted of trying so damn hard to fit into my old life as a new woman. I haven’t fully let go of the anger, the bitterness, the resentment of my past. Of memories that unfolded in my childhood town, on my parents’ front lawn.
I certainly haven’t moved on enough from the betrayal to connect with my old, high-school friends. Nor have I put myself out there to forge new friendships with other like-minded, career-oriented women in Knoxville.
Instead, I’m in a rut. I’m pushing myself in all aspects of life except the one that truly matters: community. Right now, I have none and the loneliness of that gnaws at me.
I glare at my bag by the front door, recalling its contents. I blame the envelope inside for my current state.
An invitation to my ten-year high-school reunion.
Ugh. I gulp my wine.
Moving back to Tennessee, even to the city, was agonizing. Would I run into Sean? Does Anna mention me anymore? Does she miss my friendship the way I sometimes miss hers? Does Sean tell the women he dates now that he’s a cheater? Do they hear the gossip?
Of course, I could ask Mom for the details of Sean’s or Anna’s lives. But my childhood crush, turned high-school sweetheart, turned college love cheating on me with my forever best friend, cultivating a relationship with her behind my back the semester I studied abroad, announcing that he was marrying her when I returned home, gutted me from the inside out.
They called their wedding off two months before she walked down the aisle and even that didn’t provide the vindication I wanted. I don’t know if anything ever will.
Their betrayal leveled me, and the scars of their manipulation and lies pushed me from Tennessee to Chicago for six years. Until the job offer—Creative Director of Marketing with THE Knoxville Coyotes, the pride and joy of Southern football—coincided with one of Mom’s begging sessions and I caved.
I moved back. I threw myself into work and bettering myself and growing stronger. I’ve made a hell of a lot of progress too. But that invitation is my undoing.
I polish off my wine and pour another glass.
This is just a weak moment. It won’t last. I can wallow in wine and guac tonight and snap back tomorrow. I’ll run an extra mile in the morning. The lights outside my window blur and fuck, am I crying?
Swiping a hand over my cheek confirms that I am. I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling instead, willing the tears to reabsorb into my eyeballs. I don’t want to be weak. I don’t want to care this much. I want to move on and embrace the kick-ass life I’m building for myself in a city that I’ve loved my whole life.
Besides, I could just not go and save myself the stress, the heartache, the hurt of showing up solo. Because everyone in my town bet that Sean and I would end up together. We were the golden couple—football quarterback and dance team captain, prom king and queen. Anna Drew stabbing me in the back was a plot twist no one saw coming but the town ate it up like handfuls of popcorn during an intense drama. Or, in my case, a psychological thriller.
Yeah, I’m not going. See, that was easy. Decision made.
I release the breath I’ve been holding. I’m being dramatic and I know it but…can’t I give into self-pity tonight? While Mom knows how hard the loss hit me, she doesn’t know how much hurt I still drown in. My college friends know Sean and Anna’s engagement sent me spiraling, but no one realizes how deep I’ve sunk.
It’s been years. I should be over it. I should be thriving. And most days, I’m faking it enough to believe it. But not tonight. No, tonight proved I’m not ready to see them, and so I will decline the invitation. The people I want to talk to from high school, I keep in touch with. One of my old acquaintances, Leo, just signed with the Coyotes and is back in town. We had coffee the other day. Why do I have to see anyone else, when I haven’t bothered to reach out to them in the past five years?
I don’t. I’m done compromising pieces of myself to fit in, to adapt to anyone’s version of who I should be. I’m just me and that needs to be enough.
The shrill ring of my phone interrupts my thoughts and I force myself to stand from the chair and dig around my purse.
“Of course,” I murmur when I see Mom’s name on the screen. “Hello?”
“Harper, you didn’t call.”
“I just got home thirty minutes ago.” A knock sounds on the door and I cradle the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I gratefully accept dinner from the Uber Eats delivery guy.
Mom clucks her tongue. “Working this late? If you could just settle down with a good man, you wouldn’t have—”
“I love my job,” I cut her off. Working for the Coyotes is a dream come true. My passion for football started long before my romance with Sean. It was born out of my Dad’s love for the game and even though I lost Sean, I kept football.
“I know,” Mom mutters. “What?” she calls out and I smirk, knowing she’s fielding one of Dad’s questions. “Your father wants to know how many season tickets you get this year.”
I laugh. “I already told him, still two. And we have the whole summer to discuss next season.”
Mom chuckles with me. “You know how he is.”
“Obsessed.”
“Proud,” she corrects me, and I grin. When I took the job with the Coyotes, it’s possible Dad was more excited than me.
“Thanks, Mom. So, what’s going on?” I sink down to the floor, set the poppers and nachos on the coffee table, and dig in.
Mom’s quiet for a long moment and my stomach sinks because I know what’s coming.
I open my mouth, but she beats me to it.
“Your high-school reunion is in two weeks,” she feigns casual, but I know that she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“I’m not going,” I blurt out. Rip off that Band-Aid.
“Harper June—”
“Don’t middle name me. I’m an adult. If I decide I don’t want to see anyone I graduated with, it’s—”
Mom’s scoffing halts me. “Anyone? Or two specific people?”
“Mom,” I groan. “I’m not ready.”
“Harper, you live here now. You’re going to run into them eventually. Wouldn’t it be better to get it over with? You’re all adults now…maybe you can find some closure.”
“Closure,” I mutter. What the hell is that? “I don’t want to go,” I say firmly.
“I RSVP’d for you,” Mom announces, guilt threading her tone.
My heart rate spikes, and a shudder runs through me. “Mom!”
“Harper, it’s time. You have your dream job in your dream city near your family. You can’t avoid Sean and Anna—”
I blanche at the sound of their names spoken aloud and together.
“Forever,” Mom carries on, ignoring my gagging. “At least at the reunion, you have your other friends to lean on. It won’t catch you off guard. And you can move on. Come home more, not just counting Sunday dinners. Truly live here, in Knoxville, and spend time with your family and friends without looking over your shoulder.”
“Who did you tell I’m going?”
“Karen Drew.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Of course Anna’s mom is part of the organizing committee. She was always a super involved parent—Class Mom, Head of the PTA, Organizer for Football Boosters.
“She asked if you’re bringing a date,” Mom adds and my eyes pop open.
I hold my breath, fearful of Mom’s response. What’s worse? Going stag or going with a date I beg to accompany me?
Who would I even ask?
Jeremiah pops into my mind. He’d have to drive up from Atlanta, and take off work, but I know he’d do it. Because he’s still hoping that something will develop between us, even though we haven’t had sex in over five months. Damn, I can’t ask him and give him mixed signals.
A few of the single guys on the Coyotes would do me a solid, but that would cause so much speculation that…no, I drew the line in the sand! I can’t mix my professional life with my in-shambles personal one.
“I said yes,” Mom announces, a quiet indignation in her tone.
It makes me smile, knowing that Mom is on my side. She may be trying to tough love me but deep down, she hates what Sean and Anna did.
“So bring someone sexy,” she demands.
I choke on my wine.
Mom snorts. “It’s time, Harper. You can do this.”
I continue my coughing and drain my second glass. “I don’t want to.”
“I know. But sometimes, we have to do things we don’t want to do. It’s called growing up.”
“It sucks.”
Mom laughs. “I love you, Harp. Let me know if you want to go dress shopping together.”
I roll my eyes and exchange good nights with my mom. Then, I chug another glass of wine, enjoying the numbness that spreads through my body. Except it gives way to hurt when I dig the invitation out of my bag. My hurt morphs into anger at the way Sean and Anna treated me.
And, fuck, besides Jeremiah who will end up being too complicated of a date, what sexy man can I bring as a plus-one?
My dating pool is so shallow, it’s pretty much dried up.
Pouring my fourth glass of wine, I stalk out to my balcony, the humid heat hitting my cheeks.
I grip the railing and stare out at the city lights.
Then, I open my mouth and scream.
“Fucking motherfuckerrrrrrrrr!”
Thanks so much!