Own the Eights: Own the Eights: Book One

by Sandor, Krista

  “Kind of,” Hector answered.

  “Kind of?” Georgie and Jordan echoed back.

  “We never wanted one winner,” Bobby replied.

  “What did you want?” Jordan asked.

  Bobby fiddled with his glasses. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  She shared a what the hell look with Jordan.

  “No,” they answered in unison.

  Bobby chuckled. “We wanted both of you.”

  A wide grin stretched across Hector’s face. “Bobby and I love a good twist.”

  “And we always love a good opposites-attract story,” Bobby continued, wrapping his arm around his partner.

  “Initially, we were going to offer you both positions as paid contributors. But then we cooked up this idea with the FBI, and well, we couldn’t wait to see what happened between the two of you,” Hector explained.

  “But I was the ‘why date a ten when you should marry an eight’ girl and Jordan was all about being a perfect ten.”

  Hector’s grin stretched wider. “I know! Isn’t it fabulous! It was like throwing yin and yang into a frying pan and waiting to see what happened.”

  “You’ve wanted it to be Georgie and me all along?” Jordan asked.

  Bobby nodded. “Yes, and all those challenges just solidified how great you are together.”

  “Together?” she and Jordan replied.

  “Like a ‘He Said, She Said’ thing. Call it whatever you’d like,” Hector replied with a wave of his hand.

  “Your numbers are through the roof. The whole CityBeat site is tittering on insanity, wanting to know if you guys are the real thing.”

  She turned to Jordan. “What about all your work building the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset blog?”

  He smiled down at her. A smile so sweet, it nearly stopped her heart. “I kind of wrote a manifesto denouncing it.”

  “You did?”

  “He also tried to withdraw from the contest,” Bobby chimed in.

  Jordan’s gaze softened. “What do you say, Georgie? Could you be happy with a guy without a number?”

  “I think I’m done with numbers,” she answered, unable to look away.

  Jordan caressed her cheek. “Good, because what we have is more than just a number.”

  “That’s not bad,” she said as Jordan frowned.

  “What’s not bad?”

  She grinned up at him. “More than just a number. It’s a great name for a blog.”

  He leaned in. “More Than Just a Number by Georgie Jensen.”

  “And Jordan Marks,” she finished with Barry filming as their lips met in a kiss so sweet and so pure, no matter how many likes it got them, it was off the charts when it came to the metric of true love.

  Epilogue

  Jordan

  “Maybe if I bend my leg like that and put my knee over here, it will work. Can you check the book and see if I’m doing it right, Jordan?”

  Jordan sat on the edge of the bed with Georgie between his thighs, which was, usually, exactly where he wanted her. Except, right now, she was upside down, doing a damn headstand with her knees hugging his head. And as much as he loved her knees and legs and every other part of her, he’d had about enough of trying the Kama Sutra’s daredevil sixty-nine position.

  He pushed the book aside and set her right-side up onto his lap. Rosy-cheeked, most likely from all the blood that had to have rushed to her head, her hair fell past her shoulders in loose waves.

  She gave him a sexy little smile. “Not up for erotic acrobatics?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of this,” he said, taking her hair into his hand and twisting her locks into a sexy as hell messy bun.

  “Oh, it seems that Mr. Marks wants the naughty librarian,” she purred, biting her fingertip, then running it seductively between her breasts.

  “Mr. Marks definitely wants the naughty librarian,” he answered, gripping her ass.

  She pressed her finger to her lips. “Quiet! There’s no talking in the library, sir.”

  He leaned in and took her earlobe between his teeth. “What are the rules on screaming?”

  She sighed as he licked and sucked her soft skin. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because all the people trying to read in silence are going to wonder who Jordan Marks is when I make you come so hard that you call out my name.”

  She arched into him, rubbing her slick center over his erect cock. “Your dirty talk is better than poetry.”

  He flipped her onto her back, then held her slim wrists above her head. “How’s this for poetry? Roses are red. Violets are blue. Hold on, messy bun girl. I’m going to fuck you.”

  She ran her tongue across her top lip hungrily. “Somebody needs to notify the poetry society of your erotic literary genius.”

  He grinned down at her and positioned himself at her entrance. “I’ll take you moaning my name over winning a poetry award any day.”

  He thrust inside her sweet heat, both of them gasping as he filled her completely.

  “How do you want it, Georgiana Jensen, my favorite naughty librarian?” he bit out, grinding his pelvis against her sensitive bundle of nerves just the way she liked it.

  Her blue-green eyes darkened. “Hard and dirty.”

  Holy hell! He loved this woman.

  Their lives weren’t always a Kama Sutra sex party. Three months ago, the Battle of the Blogs ended with him declaring his love for Georgie to the world. They’d won the contest that wasn’t really a contest, and the Dannies had been arrested. The con artists had tried to hide from the authorities in a nearby park by pretending they were mimes because that’s the kind of shit-for-brains stuff one does when taking supplements laced with sawdust. But he and Georgie didn’t waste one second worrying about the pill-peddling Barbie-bot frauds.

  And saying that things moved quickly after that day was an understatement.

  Overnight, he and Georgie had become household names, and the More Than Just a Number blog had been born. This was their baby, and he was ready to give it one hundred and ten percent. Georgie, on the other hand, while completely committed to More Than Just a Number, had also decided to maintain her Own the Eights blog because, well, she hadn’t been an impulsively in love freak and deleted ninety-nine percent of her blog content.

  Yeah, he’d done that.

  But he needed a clean slate. He needed to wash away the bullshit Deacon had planted in his head over the past decade and become his own man. A man who wasn’t ruled by the trappings of perfection and the hollow promise that looks alone could lead to true fulfillment.

  And speaking of fulfillment, with Georgie, he had it in spades or eights or vegan cookie dough. By whatever measure, she was his, and he was completely devoted to her.

  Wisps of her hair broke free from her bun as he rocked his body against hers. He gazed into her eyes, hardly able to believe this smart, witty woman loved him. She was the everything he never knew he needed all wrapped up in one hot-for-the-bookshop-owner body.

  He’d even given up his rental and moved in with her. It made sense. Yes, they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks when they’d decided to shack up, but that was all the time it took for him to know that her heart was the one he wanted to protect until his last breath.

  And it made sense. They weren’t only boyfriend and girlfriend. As co-creators of the More Than Just a Number blog, they were business partners, and thanks to the nice infusion of cash from CityBeat, they were neighbors on another front. They’d leased the ample office space next to Georgie’s bookshop, and now, Marks CrossFit occupied a large portion of that space. And he didn’t leave Deac’s operation alone. Done with Deacon Perry’s questionable business ethics, several of the best trainers from Deacon CrossFit migrated down the road to his new gym.

  Life was good, really good.

  He slid his hand to her hip and lifted her body, changing the angle of penetration as her hot center gripped his hard length. He drove into her in rhythmic, punctuated strokes, de
ep and hard. This was a take-no-prisoners sexpedition, and he growled into the crook of her neck, kissing her petal-soft skin.

  “Jordan, don’t stop!” she cried, her sultry gasps feeding his ravenous desire to make her body hum with pleasure.

  “A ten always finishes what he starts,” he teased, working her relentlessly as the slap of their sweat-slick bodies joined the chorus of her sweet cries and his low heated groans.

  He released her wrists, and she clawed at his back then palmed his ass. Her hips meeting his, thrust for each fevered thrust, she was so close, and he knew just what she needed. Pumping his cock, hard and fast, he weaved his hand into her hair, gripped her now even messier messy bun, and tugged. The delicious combination of pulsing pleasure and the exquisite bite of pain was all it took to drive Georgie over the edge.

  “Jordan Marks!” she called out as carnal victory surged through his veins.

  Yep, if they ever decided to do this in a library, not even the patrons listening to audiobooks could ignore Georgie’s primal cries.

  Her nails carved tiny crescents into his ass as she writhed beneath him, meeting her climax in an intense rush of heat, and he couldn’t hold back another second longer. He twisted the strands of her silky hair as their bodies collided in a torrent of raging passion. He met his release, grinding into her and lengthening her pleasure, while he disappeared into a world where only he and Georgiana Jensen existed.

  Limbs tangled together, their bodies quieted, and he brushed his lips against hers, dropping whisper-soft kisses.

  She opened her eyes and gave him a dreamy, sated smile. “You certainly do finish what you start.”

  He ran his index finger along her collarbone. “It’s not very hard with the sexiest bookshop owner on the planet screaming your name.”

  Her rosy cheeks bloomed crimson. “I didn’t scream.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I remarked with gusto,” she clarified.

  He bit back a grin. “Is that what we’re going to call it? Remarking with gusto?”

  A naughty glint sparked in her eyes, and a shot of lust surged through him at the thought of making her remark with gusto again, when their phones chimed at the same time, and Georgie gasped.

  The official CityBeat contest had ended, but each member of this power couple, who not only collaborated on a blog but also owned their own businesses, had to be prepared for real-life challenges at the drop of a hat.

  “Get Up and Move Storytime!” they said in unison.

  “It’s the first one, and we can’t be late!” Georgie added, wiggling out from beneath him and springing from the bed.

  He rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow. “We won’t! That’s why we set the alarms.”

  Since the bookshop and gym were right next door to each other, they’d decided to join forces and offer dual programs that incorporated literacy, Georgie’s storytime, with physical fitness, child-friendly motor activities, held next door at his gym.

  Georgie checked her reflection in the mirror and twisted her hair into another messy bun. “I cannot lead a storytime with sex hair, Jordan!”

  He bit back a grin. He was sex hair’s biggest fan.

  “You look great. You always look great,” he said, coming up behind her and dropping a kiss to her shoulder.

  She met his gaze in the mirror. “You know I love you.”

  Yeah, he knew.

  Pulling on clothes, they charged through their morning routine. Georgie opened the refrigerator and reached for a tube of vegan cookie dough, then shook her head and grabbed one of the kale smoothies he’d made last night.

  “Am I ever going to like these?” she asked, taking a sip before calling Mr. Tuesday over and fastening his leash to his collar.

  “It’s an acquired taste, kind of like me,” he replied, grabbing his smoothie, then opening the front door.

  Georgie pushed up onto her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll take every flavor of Jordan Marks,” she replied before Mr. Tuesday tugged on the leash and got them going.

  It was a short jaunt through the neighborhood, taking less than ten minutes to hit the Tennyson Street business district. And look at him! Living the hipster dream, cohabiting with the woman he loved, walking to work, and drinking a kale smoothie while accompanied by a rescue mutt.

  Oh, if Save the Whales Steve could see them now!

  They rounded the corner and entered the bookshop, finding it packed with parents and children. Georgie had expanded the shop to include a kids and teen area, and today was its grand opening.

  Becca waved them over to the counter. “Did you expect this many people?”

  Georgie shook her head. “No, I just added the event to the bookshop’s webpage yesterday.”

  “I guess you guys have to get used to all the notoriety. You two are famous now,” Becca added with a sly grin.

  She wasn’t wrong. While they weren’t A-list celebrity famous, people did recognize them all over town.

  Georgie grabbed the picture book she’d chosen to read for today’s storytime when a little boy holding a Dr. Seuss book walked up and tugged on the hem of her dress.

  “Are you Georgie Jensen?”

  She smiled down at the freckle-faced boy. “I am.”

  “Is this your bookstore?”

  “It is.”

  “Is that your boyfriend?” the child continued, eyeing him.

  Jeez! Georgie was a catch, and he figured there’d be some idiot who hadn’t seen his post on CityBeat and would try to make a play for her, but he never considered he’d have to contend with dudes under four feet.

  Georgie glanced his way. “Yes, he is. His name is Jordan. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Joey, and I’m in kindergarten,” the little guy replied.

  Georgie shook his little hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Joey in kindergarten.”

  The little boy smiled up at her. “Would you like to marry me?”

  Georgie’s eyes grew wide. “I think I’m a little old for you, Joey. But one day, I’m sure you’re going to get married and make someone very happy.”

  A flustered woman with an arm full of books joined them and took the little boy’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I hope my son wasn’t bothering you.”

  “This is Georgie, and she’s too old to marry me,” Joey blurted.

  Joey’s mother blushed. “Oh, my goodness! Joey was the ring bearer in my brother’s wedding this summer. Now, everywhere we go, he proposes marriage to the first pretty girl he sees.”

  The boy frowned and looked up at him. “Are you going to marry Miss Georgie?”

  He froze. Like made of stone, caveman buried under eight layers of ice frozen.

  Marriage? With all the craziness, the thought hadn’t even entered his mind. It wasn’t like he didn’t love Georgie, and he wanted to spend eternity with her, but marriage was…huge.

  “Yeah, are you going to marry, Miss Georgie?” Becca asked with her wry grin back in place.

  “Come on, Joey,” the woman said, guiding her son toward a display of children’s picture books.

  He and Georgie stared at each other, and from her shocked expression, it didn’t look like she’d thought about it either.

  Becca leaned against the counter. “Own the Eights gets married—just imagine that.”

  Also by Krista Sandor

  Own the Eights Series

  A delightfully sexy opposites attract/enemies to lovers series set in Denver, Colorado.

  Book One: Own the Eights

  Book Two: Coming Soon

  Book Three: Coming Soon

  The Bergen Brothers Series

  A sassy and sexy series about three brothers who are heirs to a billion-dollar mountain sports empire.

  Book One: Man Fast

  Book Two: Man Feast

  Book Three: Man Find

  Bergen Brothers: The Complete Series+Bonus Short Story

  The Langley Park Series

  A steamy, suspenseful
second-chance at love series set in the quaint town of Langley Park.

  Book One: The Road Home

  Book Two: The Sound of Home

  Book Three: The Beginning of Home

  Book Four: The Measure of Home

  Book Five: The Story of Home

  Sign up for my newsletter to stay in the loop and get in on all the big giveaways and contests! It’s great fun!

  https://kristasandor.com/newsletter-sign-up/

  Acknowledgments

  When I decided to write a book about a bookshop owner and a CrossFit trainer, I knew that I’d need help. Luckily, one of my dear childhood friends is a CrossFit maven. Thank you, Sara, for pointing me in the right direction. It was tough work following all those ripped CrossFit guys you suggested I check out. But, I persevered—for the book. All kidding aside, thank you!

  Dear readers, reviewers, bloggers, bookstagrammers, and ARC readers, thank you for giving me and my books a shot. So many of you have become close friends. I give thanks every day for our loving and supportive romance community.

  Tera, Michelle, and Marla, you are the superheroes of editing and proofing. Thank you for making Own the Eights sparkle! I’d be lost without you lovely ladies.

  Marisa-rose Wesley, as always, your work is awe-inspiring. Thank you for knocking the Own the Eights cover out of the park. I can’t stop staring at it!

  Brandi and Courtney, every time I message you and say, “Hey, want to read something?” You both always answer with an immediate yes! Thank you for your alpha-reader skills, feedback, and friendship.

  Michelle Dare, my dear friend and mentor, thank you for your guidance. I thank the stars for you every day.

  S.E. Rose, my BFF and writing partner in crime. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are a beacon of love and kindness. I can’t wait for our next adventure.

  David, my husband and my best friend, thank you for supporting me every step of the way. I love you.

  To Denver, my adopted hometown and the city that owns my heart. Nineteen years ago, I packed up my little Geo Tracker and drove all the way from Miami to the Mile High City, and I’ve never looked back.