“You read it,” I said gently.
* * *
Mr. and Mrs. Kirby,
WE KNEW IT!! When we decided to leave custody of our children to the two of you, we knew that if something ever happened to us and you guys were forced to truly get to know each other, you’d fall in love and get married.
Damn, you guys have smart friends. All these years you thought you hated each other, but really it was just sexual tension. We laughed about it afterward every time the two of you were together. Never lose the passion you bring out in each other. See each other’s strengths instead of weaknesses. Be each other’s best friend. Show our children what true love looks like. It’s selfless. Joyful. Messy. Hard. Beautiful.
If only we could be there with you on your wedding day. The two of you are so dear to us. We wanted to spend forever together raising our family, but if we can’t be there, it’s comforting to know you will be. We wish you a lifetime of love, more babies to love, and beautiful friends to celebrate with.
Writing “in the event of our death” letters is brutal. This is the only one we are smiling while writing. Thanks, you guys. For every moment. Every laugh. Every memory. Make more every day, and never give up on each other.
* * *
With all our love,
Ben and Lauren
* * *
I used my thumb to wipe a stray tear from Hadley’s cheek but she was smiling. “I really fucking miss them.”
“They’re right here, though,” I said, tapping my fist over my chest. “And apparently here…” I waved the piece of paper.
“They knew us so well.”
“Yup.”
“Mommy! Daddy! What are you doing?” Annalise came running in indignantly, hands on her hips. “Come watch me and Thor dance.”
Hadley turned to her with a smile. “You got Thor to dance?”
“Not yet.” Annalise gave us a sheepish smile. “I’m gonna go ask him now.”
“Okay, we’re coming.” Hadley threaded her fingers through mine again, leaning over to whisper, “we’re definitely waiting until she’s in kindergarten to have more.”
We headed back to the reception and I paused to look up at the sky as we got outside. The sky was blue and cloudless, an absolutely perfect day for a wedding.
“Thank you,” I whispered silently. “For your friendship, for Hadley, and for trusting me to raise your family. I miss you guys.”
A gentle breeze wafted over my skin in response.
“You okay?” Hadley asked, meeting my gaze.
“I’m perfect.” I leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. “Do we rescue Lars or let Annalise have her way with him?”
We burst out laughing.
“I think it’s time to get this party started,” I told her.
“The party started the first time I met you,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I was just a little late getting there.”
“Then we have lots of time to make up for.” I tugged her hand and pulled her back out onto the dance floor, twirling her around. “Ready, Mrs. Kirby?”
“Oh, yeah.”
I dipped her low, almost to the ground, before hauling her back up and pressing my lips to hers.
Read on for the first chapter of Hard Limit, the second book in the St. Louis Mavericks series, releasing 2.15.2022.
Preorder Hard Limit HERE.
Hard Limit
Chapter One - Sheridan
“This was a bad idea,” I muttered, staring out the window of the limousine as it inched through St. Louis traffic. “Maybe we should turn around and go home.” I turned to my best friend, Vanessa, and she quirked a brow at me.
“We’re not going home,” she said quietly, folding her arms across her chest. “I did not get all dressed up to sit at your place eating cheesecake. It’s going to be fun, Sheridan. You haven’t been out in over a year. It’s time and we both know it.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to be in the spotlight…you know how mean the press can be and I’m not…the same.”
“Of course you’re the same!” Vanessa snapped.
“I’ve put on twenty pounds and the camera adds another ten, so—”
“You were in a life-threatening accident. It’s a miracle you’re not in a wheelchair. And you’re going to walk in there tonight like the badass you’ve always been. Besides, the focus tonight is the charity, not the celebrities who are going to be there.”
“I bought the table in your name,” I said. “So maybe no one even knows I’ll be there.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Would you stop it? It’s going to be a blast. It’s a freakin’ bachelor auction of professional athletes! I’ve got a thousand dollars put away for Nash Riley from the Mavericks.”
I laughed, relaxing for the first time all night. “I thought you were hot for that new pitcher for the Cardinals?”
“We’ll see which one strikes my fancy.” She arched her brows and grinned. “Maybe I’ll take both.”
“I could use a little fancy-striking myself.” I sighed. “It’s been more than a year since I’ve had sex.”
Vanessa shuddered. “Jesus, woman, that’s a streak that needs to end right fucking now.”
“I know.” I turned back to the window. “But what guy is going to want to hook up with the fat chick with the cane?”
“Same guys who wanted to hook up with you before? And anyway, the cane is temporary. You’ve come so far and it’s time—”
“Sheridan, do you want me to take you right up to the front?” My driver/bodyguard, Flynn, opened the partition. Though I didn’t own the limo, we’d rented it so he could drive Vanessa and I to this event since I never went anywhere without him these days. He was an employee but also a friend and my full-time bodyguard. The only person I trusted more than Flynn was Vanessa.
“If we go right up to the front, that’s where the bulk of the press will be,” I protested.
“But that’s where you have the shortest distance to walk,” he pointed out.
I loved Flynn ninety-nine percent of the time. Right this minute, I hated him.
Mostly because he was right.
“Okay. The front it is.” I stiffened my spine and sat up straighter.
I could do this.
I’d been through worse and wasn’t going to let one broken back derail the rest of my life. Even though it was turning out to be harder than I’d ever imagined.
He pulled up to cones directing which lane the VIPs were supposed to use and flashed our pass to the security guard who waved him through. Then he stopped and a few dozen reporters surged forward, anxious to see who was getting out.
“Let’s go,” I told Vanessa. “But you first, okay?”
“I’m all about the attention!” she laughed, holding out her hand to Flynn, who helped her out of the car. A few flashbulbs went off but no one recognized Vanessa Cruz, my best friend since we were fifteen, the CTO of my new plus-size lingerie company, and the smartest woman I knew.
Flynn reached out a hand to me.
“You got this,” he said in a tone so low only I could hear.
I took a breath before letting him help me out of the limo. I tested my footing, since I was wearing the highest heels I’d worn since the accident—rhinestone covered sandals with two-inch wedge heels—and straightened up. I smiled as the first flash went off and then I heard the whispers.
“Holy shit, it’s Sheridan Lee!”
“Hey, Sheridan, look over here!”
“Sheridan, you look amazing!”
I smiled and waved, walking slower than I would have a year ago but with an even, steady gait, the way my physical therapist had taught me. Learning to walk again as an adult was hard.
“Are you coming back to modeling?” someone called out.
“Sheridan, how’s your back?”
Luckily, we got inside before I had to answer and I exhaled heavily.
Okay, the first hurdle was done. Now I could sit in a chair, have a glass of wine, and
enjoy the auction. Which I was actually looking forward to. I didn’t plan to buy myself a date, but I’d donate a few thousand to the cause. Anything to do with helping pediatric cancer patients was right up my alley.
The room was beautiful, with tablecloth-covered tables, a huge T-shaped stage that jutted down the middle of the room, and two huge bars and buffet tables set up on each side of the room. A DJ was playing dance music and for the first time in thirteen months, my body itched to move. Really move. God, I’d loved to dance BA.
BA and SA.
Before Accident and Since Accident.
That’s how everything was classified in my life right now.
“Here we go.” Vanessa put a glass of white wine in front of me and sank down beside me. “The party starts now. You hungry?”
“Famished,” I admitted.
“I’ll get us plates and then we can look through the program, see what else is on the menu.” She chuckled as she walked away and I shook my head fondly.
We’d been through a lot together over the last thirteen years, but nothing as traumatic as my accident. And Vanessa had been at my side every step of the way, holding my hand, encouraging me, and kicking my ass when necessary.
I took a sip of wine and looked around, wondering how many familiar faces I’d see.
Coming in on her husband’s arm was the owner of the small, local modeling agency where I’d gotten my start and I resisted the urge to wave. Though I loved Delia Hammond, I didn’t have it in me to retell the story of the accident, my recovery, physical therapy, and of course, answering the number one question on everyone’s mind: Are you going back to modeling?
I had no idea.
“Yum!” Vanessa put a huge plate heaped with what appeared to be every item on the buffet down in front of me and sat down again. “And for dessert, they have salted caramel chocolate mousse or white chocolate raspberry cheesecake. Want to share both?”
Vanessa weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet but ate like a freakin’ NFL linebacker. I hated her sometimes, but I just smiled and shook my head. “I’ll have a bite of each, but I need to lose the next ten pounds.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She popped a bite of prosciutto-wrapped mozzarella in her mouth and then opened the evening’s program on the table between us.
“There’s your boy.” I pointed out the Cardinals’ new pitcher, Scotty Dominguez, on the first page. He was five-eleven with long-lashed dark eyes and short, dark hair cropped close to his head. But man, he had the world’s best lips. Between the lashes and the lips, he could be on magazine covers.
Vanessa cocked her head. “He’s sexy. But let’s see what else is out there.”
We flipped through the pages, checking out each bachelor that would be available tonight and I paused toward the back. “Now that’s a guy I could climb like a tree,” I murmured.
“Who is he?” Vanessa frowned.
“Defenseman for the Mavericks,” I said thoughtfully.
“Hockey?”
I nodded absently, reading the short blurb about him. “Holy shit, he’s six-six, two-fifty.”
“And you love that long-haired Viking look,” Vanessa said, peering down at his photo. “He looks spectacularly underwhelmed in this picture.”
I chuckled. “I’m sure the single guys were forced into this.”
“Oooh, he’s Swedish. He’s younger than you too, only twenty-six.”
I grinned. “I’m only twenty-eight, but I can cougar that boy all night long.”
We laughed together and it felt good to enjoy some sort of normalcy after the year I’d had. Vanessa had spent a lot of time with me, but being out at a big event like this was different, and I allowed myself to get into the spirit of the evening’s festivities. It was all for a good cause—children’s cancer—and if we could joke and laugh about hot guys and sex for a couple of hours, all the better.
The auction started promptly at nine and though I’d told myself I wasn’t buying myself a date, my glance kept dropping to the picture of Lars Jansson. Physically, he was my fantasy man, but obviously I didn’t know him. He was probably a womanizing jerk—a lot of athletes were—and that wasn’t my thing at all. Even before the accident, I’d been careful about the men I dated.
As a plus-sized woman, I was used to comments about my weight. As the most well-known plus-sized supermodel in the world, I was used to men “settling” for my body type because I was beautiful, wealthy, and successful. And I would never, ever settle for a man who didn’t love all of me. I’d done it once and it took me a long time to get past the humiliation. Now, I held the reins when it came to relationships, dating, and even one-night stands. Not that I’d had any of those lately. I hadn’t had sex in thirteen months, which was the longest I’d gone since losing my virginity at fifteen.
Gazing down at Lars’ picture, I wondered if he looked as good in person as he did on the page.
Vanessa nudged me back to the present. “Your boy is up soon.”
The last guy had been auctioned off for four hundred dollars, which didn’t seem like a lot, but I’d also never heard of the rookie running back for the city’s newest football franchise, the St. Louis Sentinels. The most well-known players were being saved for last, and Lars was somewhere in the middle, so I figured he’d go for a little more.
You know you want to bid, Sheridan.
The devil on my shoulder seemed to be speaking directly to my libido.
“Too young, right?” Vanessa was asking me, motioning to the baseball player who’d just flexed his muscles on the stage. He was laughing, obviously having a good time with this, pulling off his dress shirt and waving it around as a bunch of barely twenty-somethings started bidding.
“He’s probably not old enough to drink,” I told her, laughing.
“Probably not. And I’m torn between Nash and Scotty anyway.”
“Take them both,” I teased her.
Her eyes gleamed. “Damn, I would if I thought I could get away with it!”
Three more guys were auctioned off and then they announced Lars. I sat up straighter, trying not to look too interested, but holy hell, he was even hotter in person. He was big all over. Not just tall, but muscular and broad-shouldered. His thighs flexed as he walked across the stage, muscles bulging even beneath his dark gray dress slacks, and his shoulders seemed to take up the whole room.
“Here.” Vanessa pretended to hand me her napkin. “You’re drooling.”
“Two hundred!” One of the twenty-somethings sitting near the stage jumped up, waving the card with her number on it. We’d all gotten them when we arrived, and everyone’s information was already on file, so the purchase process would be seamless.
“Two twenty-five!” One of her friends stuck her tongue out at her as they laughed.
“Two fifty!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath.
Lars did not look happy to be there and each time someone called out a bid, he jumped a little. Not only did I want to jump his bones, I also had the most irrational need to protect him. Which made no sense for a big professional hockey player like that.
“Three forty!” The first young woman yelled out.
Lars was simply standing at the bottom of the stage now, and while the other guys had laughed, flirted, and had fun with it, he was somewhat wooden, the smile on his face obviously forced. But he was beautiful. His long, blond hair was parted down the middle and fell to his shoulders, curling the tiniest bit on the bottom. His eyes were electric blue, even from ten or fifteen feet away, and when we made eye contact, I almost spontaneously combusted. Those high cheekbones were the final nail in the coffin of my self-control and I slowly got to my feet.
“Three fifty!” One of the other ladies called out.
I smiled at Lars and held up my card. “Ten thousand dollars.”
“Excuse me?” The emcee paused. “Number twenty-four—did you say ten…thousand?”
I smiled at the three young women w
ho were now shooting daggers at me with their eyes before I turned to the emcee. “I did.”
“Now that’s what I call donating to charity!” The emcee was pleased as punch. “Lars Jansson goes for ten thousand dollars! Do we have any other bids?”
I sat down with a smug smile.
The emcee grinned as he spoke. “Number twenty-four takes Lars Jansson for a whopping ten thousand dollars—the rest of you boys have some work to do!”
Everyone laughed, but my eyes were on Lars. And then his met mine. For the first time since he’d come out on stage, I saw a glimmer of his personality as he took a moment to study me. Mostly, I saw curiosity, but there was also a hint of annoyance with a dash of…interest?
Before I could figure it out, he was gone, striding to the back.
“This right here is why we’re besties.” Vanessa dissolved into laughter and I joined her, my eyes never leaving Lars’ retreating back.
I’d either done something really cool or incredibly stupid. Either way, I’d just won myself a date with a professional hockey player who looked like a Nordic god, and for the first time in thirteen months, I was excited about something.
Preorder Hard Limit HERE.
Acknowledgments
Our villages expanded by a lot while writing this book. Everyone on our individual teams huddled up and worked hard to make this book a success, and we are grateful! We truly can’t list out everyone who helps us on a day-to-day basis, because that would take pages and pages, and we’d still probably forget someone. But know that if you’re a blogger reading the ARC for this book, an author friend to one or both of us, a reader who never misses one of our hockey books, or a really hot hockey player, we are grateful for you.
Special thanks to Renita McKinney, who worked us in for a developmental edit at the drop of a hat while she was traveling. Renita, your encouragement and sound advice gave us everything we needed to finish this book in the way we wanted to. Our publicists, Heather Roberts, Jessica Estep and Jenn Gaffney are our promo Dream Team. Thanks, guys, for handling so much of the non-writing work so we can stay lost in the St. Louis Mavericks world. Line editor Taylor Bellitto polished this book until it shone, and we dig her a whole lot. Rosa Sharon is our sharp-eyed, awesomely talented proofreader, who helps us rest easy and not feel like we have to read through the book several more times when our eyes are already burning. Our cover photo is by Rafa Catala, and it so perfectly captures our Wes. Lori Jackson put the perfect touches on it with her design work, and the cover was a huge part of our inspiration as we wrote.
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