“You ever make love in a truck?” I ask, nibbling on her lips.
She laughs into my mouth, the cherry-almond scent spreading around me, through me.
“No. But I think you’re just the guy to christen me.”
“We can christen the truck together.” I push my hands under her coat and the hem of her sweater dress to find her skin. She reaches for my belt and I laugh.
“What about foreplay?”
She looks into my eyes, nips my lips, and says into my mouth in a breathy voice, “You are the personification of foreplay, Jack. Our whole life is foreplay and will always be. Because I will never want anything more than to make love with you every day for the rest of my life.”
“For the rest of our lives,” I say, pulling her in, crushing her against me so I can feel her heart beat against mine, until they beat together in the same hard fast excited rhythm. The one that’s still there, surviving so much, making me certain that it’ll last a lifetime.
Epilogue
Jack
My hearing on the charge of academic fraud is short and my attorney, who’s damn good, was right. The judge gives me six months of probation with community service. No jail time in spite of the prosecutor’s self-righteous push to make an example of me. The media coverage helps. Voland writes a column condemning the NCAA for my circumstances.
The community service sentence is more like a treat than penance. I’m assigned to coach football for a team from an underprivileged community. It’s a junior league team of twelve-to-fourteen-year-old misfits.
They treat me like a gangster until they realize I’m their worst nightmare when it comes to making them work hard. I find ways to coerce them into meeting the challenges I throw at them and the challenges life hits them with. I find ways to convince them to not quit.
Above all, don’t give up on yourself. It’s my new mantra. Even though I’ve been saying it for a long time, I never knew what it meant.
Now I know. It means don’t give up on the possibility of people loving me, of loving them back, of hoping I’ll be better, of hoping they’ll be better. It means accept who you are, but strive to be who you want to be and never stop doing that. No matter how many bad decisions you make.
At least that’s my interpretation. I squeeze Joni’s thigh and then stand when I see Reverend Church and Coach Radz heading our way.
We’re sitting with George and Izzy at the fucking NFL Draft. By fucking invitation. Granted, we’re in a back row, but it’s better than a prison cell. That’s another new mantra, but I only say it when Joni can hear me because she gets all irritated and emotional. And I don’t care if that makes me still a dick because I love teasing her.
“Good luck and God bless you, Jack. I know you’ve worked hard for this and you deserve a chance in spite of your mistake.” Reverend Church gives me a two-handed shake. I don’t bother correcting him, telling him that it’s mistakes, as in plural, too many to count. But I get what he means.
“Damn right he worked hard,” Coach says, nodding at me. Now that I’m not on his team anymore he’s looking at me like I’m a person. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe I was the one not looking at him like a person when I was on his team. Maybe I saw him as the man, the establishment I needed to struggle against.
Either way, I lean in, towering over him and embrace him in a man hug, slapping his back.
“That means a lot, Coach. I appreciate you.”
Sitting back down, I settle in next to Joni, putting an arm around her shoulders. She smiles and squeezes my thigh. I swear under my breath at the jolt of desire and she laughs. In this moment I know the draft doesn’t matter. There’s no way to eclipse the joy and contentment I feel knowing I have Joni, that we have each other.
Having a bank account thanks to my no-good father, having my mom sober and having good true friends who don’t care that I’m a fuck-up or whether I play football or not, doesn’t hurt either.
I’m drafted in the third round by the Boston Militia to back up the starting QB and maybe work my way into the lineup when he retires. Joni jumps up and down like she’s a cheerleader, a hell of a lot more excited than I am—which is plenty. But mostly I’m grateful.
George is drafted in the fourth round by Dallas and it’s my turn to jump up and down. I tell him it suits him because he’s always been a cowboy. He’s with Izzy. Sort of. I’m not sure what they have going on, but I hope it’s something. Izzy takes a vid clip of us all and texts it to Dooley, Mom, and Tristan and probably to a million other people on social media, but I don’t care. Let her have her moment in the sun.
At dinner later, I mention that Joni’s book will be in stores soon and she’s scheduled to do a book signing next month in Boston.
“Let’s all go,” Izzy says, looking at George. “We can make a weekend of it. It’ll be romantic.” George is busy cutting his steak. “That’s a month away. A lot can happen between now and then,” he says.
And he’s right.
# The End #
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Best Man on Campus
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Steamy Hockey Romance
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He Has It All
He Has Game
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He Has Santa coming soon
He Has Everything coming soon
Playing Series
Steamy Sports Romance
Playing the Game
Playing Until The End
Playing for the Money
Playing for Love
Playing for Keeps
Playing With the Bridesmaid coming soon
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About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author Stephanie Queen
The compulsion to write stories has been with me always. I’ve written for fun since I was in second grade. In college, I started to work seriously at writing and have been ever since (a wicked long time!) (I’m from the Boston area).
Improving my craft remains a constant goal, but I finally couldn't wait to share my stories, ready or not. And here I am now, 50+ books later, sharing all over the place and loving it!
Writing romance is me sharing my heart and my deeply-held view of the world. An enthusiastic optimist, needing to envision the best in humanity, I bring this view to life in my stories, where the good guys always win and two people fall in love and live happily ever after.
Ready for chocolate, morning, noon and night, I also adore kittens even though I’m allergic, love dancing like a maniac , bright sunny winter days that make you go snow-blind and UConn Women's Basketball (go Huskies!).
Every December I take the month off from writing to enjoy my all-time favorite holiday. I'm one of those people who goes crazy at Christmas, decorating, cooking, connecting with family and friends and soaking up every minute of the fun, giving, loving spirit of the season.
Socializing may be distracting for some writers, and downright scary for others, but I thrive on it. So, write me any time at [email protected] and I will reply. Can't wait to hear from you!
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Acknowledgments
You wouldn’t think writing is a team sport, but once the story is told, I rely on a team of people, like a pit crew, to make the story into a
shiny book you can buy.
I want to acknowledge you and thank you very much.
Michele Hauf designs and creates my fabulous covers based on my incoherent disjointed concept and after thirty-nine or so revisions because she’s the most patient and gracious fair-godmother of a designer on earth, the covers shine and she doesn’t banish me from her client list. Thank you, Michele!
Jane Haartel edits my books with an eagle eye, perfect emotional pitch and a knack for understanding pacing—and me. Jane has been my super power ever since she rescued me from the scrap heap and helped me transform the second novel I ever wrote into an award-winning gem. Even after a few years and a pile of books, she still makes me feel like I’m her only client. Thank you, Jane!
I have a team of readers who help me with everything from choosing tropes, to titles, to which guy to put on a cover and what the heck to name my characters. There are so many of them to name that I know my fingers will seize up and I’ll forget someone. But they are the Stephanie Queen Team and they are very special to me, my writer-reader friends who help me bridge the gap, the ones who help me understand what readers see and feel when they read my stories. I need to name a few that have gone above-and-beyond to become beta readers.
Thank you so much Sandy Lipinski, Susan Hamann, Vedika Sheth and Nedra Atkinson. You’re awesome!
My entire SQ Team is wonderful. You all mean a lot to me!
Last, but not least, I need to acknowledge and thank my writer friends who “get it”, who never get tired of listening to me talk about all things story and writing, who have generous helpful souls and who I love like writer-sisters. Suzanne Egglington, Nora LeDuc, Sally Berneathy, Susan Ricci, Dani Havilland, Suzanne Jenkins, Tamara Ferguson, Mona Risk, Stacy Eaton, Jacquie Biggar, Mimi Barbour and all the ladies from Mimi’s Gang. I rely on you all for wisdom, knowledge, fun and inspiration and can’t imagine doing this writing thing without you! Love you all! #BFFsForever.
Big Man on Campus: an Enemies to Lovers College Romance (Big Men on Campus Book 1) Page 33