Going Down On One Knee (A Mile High Matched Novel Book 1)

by Christina Hovland

  Early on, Velma had asked Brek if he wanted a theme for their wedding. He said the only thing he wanted was her naked in the limo afterward.

  She ran her hands over her swollen belly. Limo sex would be interesting at her size, that was for sure. “Are you going to tell me what your big surprise is?”

  He kissed her nose. “No.”

  “When will I find out?” she asked.

  “Soon. You get your things. I’ll get the car.” He headed for the garage, and Velma glanced down to the socks he had tossed to the hamper.

  They hadn’t quite made it in.

  And it was wonderful.

  Hank’s Bar had gone through a transformation after Brek had bought it a couple of months ago. Next week it would reopen as Brek’s Bar. He had upgraded the space with a better kitchen, a stage, and a sound system. Eli had helped create the menu and agreed to consult as needed. Staying in Denver had become a priority, and who knew how long Dimefront would stick together, so Brek needed a plan. Hans had agreed to handle most of the on-the-road management. They had already hashed out the details.

  Aspen had decked out the bar in sunflowers and candles for the wedding. She moved out the tables and arranged the chairs in a makeshift aisle. The guest list was small—close friends and family only. Brek didn’t particularly care who attended, as long as he had Velma.

  Jase nudged Brek in the ribs as Tucker McKay played the bridal chorus on his guitar and Claire sashayed toward them.

  “Can’t believe you got Tucker McKay to play at your wedding. Bad-fucking-ass,” Jase said out of the corner of his mouth.

  Pops cleared his throat and tossed Jase a look. He liked cussing about as much as Velma did.

  “You have the ring, right?” Brek asked Jase. The guy had one job to do. Well, two: show up and have the ring ready.

  Jase tapped his pocket. “Yup.”

  Brek had added to Pops’s inscription. Now it read, To Velma, Forever My Ten.

  “And, seriously, could you tell your mom to lay off on the matchmaking?” Jase spoke from the side of his mouth. “She’s been parading women through the shop like they’re walking a catwalk. It’s distracting as fuck.”

  Pops cleared his throat louder.

  “Now’s a good time to shut it,” Dean mumbled beside Jase as Velma emerged from the hallway on her dad’s arm. Brek’s breath caught at his collarbone. Her grandmother’s lace covered her gown, and she held a simple bouquet of red roses. His almost-wife was beautiful every day, but today he couldn’t peel his eyes from her.

  Pregnancy seemed to agree with Velma. He’d never seen her happier than she had been over the past months.

  She winked, and he felt warmth in his gut.

  He forced his gaze to Tucker and nodded.

  Tuck cleared his throat. “Brek, uh, asked me to sing something special for Velma. So, this is for her.”

  Velma narrowed her eyes slightly and raised a questioning brow. Tucker was a rocker, but he had a cowboy soul. Brek had convinced him to let it shine today.

  Tuck dropped his voice low and sang directly to Velma—one of those sappy-ass country songs she loved. She smiled huge, stepping toward Brek and their future. The toes of her white satin slippers peeked from under her grandmother’s lace—Aspen had come through on the shoes—and her face went soft, her eyes bright.

  Everything in the world was right.

  “I love you,” she mouthed.

  Three. Little. Words. Only three. And they meant everything.

  Stay in Touch

  There’s more Brek and Velma!

  A special bonus scene Christina created

  especially for newsletter subscribers!

  Sign up for the bonus scene at:

  ChristinaHovland.com/goingdown-bonus

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my husband, Steve, who supported, encouraged, and held my hand through this dream of mine to write books. My kids—all four of them—for being patient as I, “Just finished this chapter.” Over and over and over.

  My mom, Shirley, and my sister, Sereneti. You both are such a huge part of why I’m able to do what I do.

  My best friend, Karie, who knows me better than I know myself and doesn’t hesitate to come rescue me at midnight whenever I need it. (Which—let’s be honest—recently, it’s been a lot!)

  Kiele, thank you for always keeping me grounded. You are my person.

  Courtney, Dallas, Leeann, Lindsay, Sarah, Shasta, Stephanie for supporting me, always.

  Courtney, thank you for being one of my first beta readers and my reading buddy.

  Shasta, you are Queen of the Comma. Thank you for always being willing to answer my grammar questions.

  Sarah, thank you for helping me unravel plot tangles and encouraging me.

  Lindsay, I’m so blessed to have you as my cheerleader.

  Thank you to D’Ann Lindun, A.Y. Chao, Cheryl Pitones Rider, Colette Dixon, Sara Dahmen, Wendi Sotis, and Shannon Patterson for your advice and notes.

  Todd for answering random questions about the legal needs of fictional characters.

  Beth for being the best author assistant ever.

  L.A. Mitchell for making me believe this dream is possible.

  My agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, who made this book happen on so many levels. Thank you! Thank you! You are, quite simply, amazing.

  Kristi Yanta, for helping me make this story the best it can be—and for always being supportive and awesome.

  Holly Ingraham for being my editor, mentor, and part-time counselor on this project. I am so grateful to you!

  Michelle Hope for being the eagle eyes I needed on this manuscript. Thank you so much.

  Laura for the care you always take with my manuscripts in the final stages. Making them shine is your superpower.

  Diane Holiday for being my first line critique partner on this story and for always being available to help me.

  C.R. Grissom for always being there for me with a ready ear and a shot of infused vodka.

  Scarlett Peckham, Catherine Stuart, Susannah Erwin, Deb Smolha, LeAnne Bristow, Sarah Morgenthaler, Miguella T. Twosias, Laura Harris, and Anne Morgan for the critiques, beta reads, and friendship.

  The amazing Rebelles. I am so blessed to be part of your group.

  And, finally, thank you to the Romance Chicks: Dylann Crush, Jody Holford, and Renee Ann Miller.

  Enjoyed the Story?

  Turn the page for chapter one of

  Rock Hard Cowboy!

  A prequel novella to Going Down on One Knee.

  A supercouple for Christmas.

  Rock 'n' roll cowboy Tucker McKay’s muse has left the building. Returning to his roots at his Colorado ranch might be the inspiration he needs, and he’s done everything he can to ensure his reputation shines for his eventual return to the public eye, should his muse show up again. Ready to leave town, he’s not prepared for the paparazzi frenzy after a starlet falls face down on his lap at L.A.’s trendiest new night club.

  America’s Sweetheart, Mackenzie Bennett’s career is on the rocks after a few lackluster movies damaged her studio appeal. She needs something to change, and fast. What she does not need is the firestorm that ensues after an ill-fated spill is caught on camera. Spending Christmas in Colorado with the man she publicly embarrassed is her only option to turn around the bad press.

  While a fake relationship might drum up the publicity needed to save both of their careers, a small-town family Christmas may be just what they both need to figure out what truly matters…

  Rock Hard Cowboy

  Copyright © 2018 Christina Hovland

  All rights reserved.

  Rock Hard Cowboy

  Chapter One

  Two Weeks to Christmas

  Christmas sucked.

  Also, Tucker McKay had great hair. Amazing black hair. Not too long. Not too short. The perfect length for running a girl’s fingers through. And that little bit of a beard? It worked.

  He was tall, dark and…never ever, e
ver.

  On that thought, Mackenzie Bennett nursed her tall glass of seltzer water with a twist of lime while making herself seen in the newest hoity toity, excessively expensive Los Angeles nightclub. The fizzy bubbles in her drink had disappeared over an hour ago.

  Music pulsed around her, the strobe lights on the dance floor below making the revelers appear as disjointed puppets. Funny that. If there was a disjointed puppet on the premises, it was her. Always doing what she was told. Always standing where directed. Always being someone else.

  She kept a smile plastered on her face and her expression light. That’s what a good actress did. Never show how you really feel when you’re on the job. Always let the character shine through. In that moment, the character was the version of herself the public got to see. The smoky-eyed, shiny-haired starlet who really, deep down, wanted to spend her evening bingeing on Netflix while eating a grilled cheese sandwich created with the most over-processed American cheese product she could find.

  God, she missed food like that.

  She held her gaze on rocker-legend-slash-cowboy Tucker. The way he was propped up in a corner booth in the VIP section. The way his head bopped ever so slightly to the thump of the blaring music. The way his muscled arm was slung along the edge of the booth and his laughter permeated the VIP lounge.

  “You’re not having any fun.” Her best friend and business manager, Leah, waggled a tipsy red-painted fingertip in her direction. Half her nails were red, half green. Very festive and all that.

  “We’re worried about you.” Their not-quite-drunk friend Abby squeezed Kenzie’s arm. “Do I need to call Taylor? Get the whole gang together?”

  “We should do a holiday cheer intervention,” Leah suggested. “We’ll drink eggnog and make her sing ‘Jingle Bells.’”

  Kenzie couldn’t help the smile that played at the corners of her mouth.

  These women made up Kenzie’s entourage. The ones who got the messy reality alongside the Hollywood glam. The ones who knew Kenzie had a secret passion for 1:00 a.m. bubble baths and writing screenplays that would never be produced. The ones who, no matter how adept an actress Kenzie was, would know she was putting up a front.

  They knew her better than she knew herself most times.

  So she didn’t lie.

  “I’m just doing my time.” Kenzie nodded toward a group of women a level down on the dance floor. That group of ladies had been watching her for a solid twenty minutes.

  One of the women waved back tentatively, giggled, and huddled with her friends.

  “Your holiday spirit is seriously lacking.” Leah snagged a martini from the waiter circulating a tray loaded with the drink of the day. Something orange and red—and it probably tasted like pineapple, if Kenzie had to guess.

  “I’ll find my Christmas cheer once the offer comes through.” Kenzie eyed the sunset-colored drink. She wanted one, sure, but she wouldn’t have one. Not when she was in public. Not when she was on a job. Even if the job was stupid. She was being paid an absurd amount of money to be at the club tonight. A club she had absolutely no intention of ever visiting again.

  That wasn’t the point though. Once she was seen somewhere, patrons would show up again and again, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. And since her last two box office receipts had been lacking, she filled in her budget gaps with appearances. Until the next opportunity moseyed along. Which would, she prayed to Lady Luck, be soon. Soon-ish.

  “Any day. They’ll come around any day now,” Abby assured.

  That was easy for her to say. Her life wasn’t publicly and personally entwined in her ability to stay on the big screen. Sure, Kenzie had been smart with her money. Saved it. Invested it. But with the way Hollywood worked, her savings could only take her so far. She needed to nab a new role.

  “Don’t look back. The future is ahead.” Leah made a dramatic hand motion like a soldier heading into battle.

  Negotiations on Kenzie’s latest movie—a romantic comedy about a farm girl in the big city—had fallen apart weeks ago, after her latest film flopped at the box office. Someone from the studio had leaked that they were eyeing other actresses for her part. Kenzie felt like the trap door had dropped open, spilling a washed-up actress just shy of stage left. It was all very, very public.

  Very, very humiliating.

  “I’m not looking back.” No, she was looking straight at Tucker.

  Kenzie’s gaze slid the length of him. He might be a rock ’n’ roll legend, but he was also muscled, charming, and a total jerk.

  A jerk she’d shared a moment with at her premier last month. It was like in one of her movies, where the heroine sees the hero from across the room. They trace each other with their eyes, up then down, both liking what they see. And then something more—a connection—forms. Love at first sight? No, that doesn’t happen. But definitely more than lust.

  They’d chatted about the business, his music, her movies. He’d told her about his family, his ranch. She’d shared about her dreams of time away from the world, where she wouldn’t always be the focus. Her job was her passion, but sometimes she dreamed of a break. Those were the times she’d doodle out a scene or two of her own creation. She’d told him that bit, too. Only those closest to her knew about her writing.

  He was entirely too easy to talk to.

  For a glimmer of a second, she’d thought what she and Tucker had between them was real. Not even the Hollywood brand of real, but out-of-the-spotlight real.

  When she’d searched him out later that night to make a move, he was gone.

  Then he told the press she was a crappy actress.

  Then her movie lost a shit ton of money at the box office.

  So, yeah, she was a little raw about it all.

  That treatment from nearly anyone else? She’d merely smile and move along. She’d been in the business long enough to understand everyone had an opinion. But, for some reason, Tucker’s mattered. His criticism stung. Tonight, she would remedy that. As soon as she figured out what to say.

  “You should dance.” Leah slipped her arm through Kenzie’s and tugged her toward the VIP dance floor.

  Abby linked her other arm and helped Leah scoot her along.

  Not nearly as packed as the one downstairs, this dance floor was created for visibility throughout the club. Kenzie was being paid to attend tonight, and it was expected she appear to have a fabulous time.

  Her contract said so.

  “In a sec. I’m gonna talk to Tucker first.” Kenzie disentangled her arms, stood tall on her stiletto heels, and weaved through the crowd toward him.

  “That’s a bad idea…” Leah continued talking but Kenzie ignored her.

  What she was going to say? She had no idea. But she was going to tell him…something. Find out why he’d said mean things about her, what she’d done to offend him. That kind of thing. She’d figure it out.

  Maybe something about how he’d hurt her feelings and he should apologize.

  Yes, that’s what she’d say. And she’d say it with style, and class.

  The nearly transparent dress her stylist had outfitted her in made hustling anywhere practically impossible. The heels didn’t help. So she took her time sauntering across the VIP section. Her bodyguard shadowed her movements. He was behind her, but she knew he was there. He was always there when she did these appearances.

  “Tucker?” she asked, approaching his table.

  His gaze lifted to hers. It softened for a split second. “Hey.”

  “I came by to say hello.” She fidgeted with her glass. Which was unacceptable. She set it on the table and nudged it from the edge with her finger.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to the other side of the booth. The guy sitting there scooted over to make room for her.

  She didn’t sit.

  “I was thinking we could chat alone, about some of the things you mentioned to a reporter about my movie.”

  “Oh. That.” He ran a hand over his neck. The movement made the defined muscles
of his triceps bunch.

  Dammit. She wasn’t over here to check out his arms.

  “Have your people call his people,” one of his people said.

  Kenzie leaned toward Tucker, ignoring his entourage. “I’d really like a conversation.”

  “Look.” His eyes were soft again. He gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. “Magazines print what magazines print.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “I just think—” Someone—a bulky someone—bumped her from behind.

  The stilettos wobbled, her balance precarious. She threw her arm wide to catch herself. It didn’t work.

  Her knees buckled.

  Damn. This was going to hurt.

  She fell forward.

  “Shit.” Tucker moved to grab her.

  Too late. The momentum caught her.

  And that’s how, two weeks before Christmas, she found herself face-first in Tucker McKay’s crotch.

  Enjoyed the sample?

  Rock Hard Cowboy is Available Now!

  Also by Christina Hovland

  The Mile High Matched Series

  Rock Hard Cowboy, A Mile High Matched Novella

  (October 1, 2018)

  Blow Me Away, A Mile High Matched Novel, Book 2

  (Coming 2019)

  From Entangled Publishing

  The Honeymoon Trap

  About the Author

  Christina Hovland lives her own version of a fairy tale—an artisan chocolatier by day and romance writer by night. Born in Colorado, Christina received a degree in journalism from Colorado State University. Before opening her chocolate company, Christina’s career spanned from the television newsroom to managing an award-winning public relations firm. She’s a recovering overachiever and perfectionist with a love of cupcakes and dinner she doesn’t have to cook herself. A 2017 Golden Heart® finalist, she lives in Colorado with her first-boyfriend-turned-husband, four children, and the sweetest dog around.