Fight From The Heart: a small town romance (Heart Collection Book 4)

by L. B. Dunbar

  I nod to accept his suggestion. His eyes shift, watching his fingers comb at my short blond locks.

  “You’ve been my destiny all along, Lilac. You found me when I had that accident years ago. You saved me. You’ve put up with my bullshit and patiently waited for me to get that bullshit in order. I only wish I’d done it sooner,” he says. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever regretted.”

  “We have all the time ahead of us,” I tell him. We’re both a little scared. Between a budding relationship and our baby's birth, a lot is going to happen in the next few months.

  “I didn’t need to change my destiny. I needed to recognize it. I needed to find you, angel. I’ll never need to change mine again.” His mouth comes to mine, soft and delicate like the petal of a flower, and too quickly, he pulls back. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I giggle, reaching up with my thumb to trace over his lower lip.

  “For not giving up on me. For fighting with me, against me, and eventually for me. I love you, Lilac.” His mouth returns to mine, and finally, we move on from hand holding to eager kisses. Next comes the sex part, but we both know this is about love.

  Epilogue

  Back in Bed

  [Jacob]

  I needed to take a quick trip to New York once my apartment sold and to meet with Theresa about a book tour. I wouldn’t be taking one until after the baby was born. I enter the house to find a pair of shoes haphazardly in the middle of the front hall. My forehead furrows as it’s not like Pam to be messy. Stepping into the living room, I notice a shirt on the floor near my office door. The stairs start just outside the entrance, and I turn to find a skirt on the steps leading upward. My heart races as do I, suddenly taking the stairs two at a time to my room.

  Our room.

  I find a purple bra at the top of the stairs, and just inside the entrance to our bedroom is the matching purple thong on the floor. Ignoring the clothing, I glance at the bed to find my Lilac sitting in the middle of it. Her back is to me, exposing her skin. A sheet is tucked up against her front, but I’ll be removing that quickly, once I figure out what she’s up to.

  “Lilac?” I question, walking to the side of the bed. Her head tilts, glancing up at me over her shoulder.

  “Welcome home, Professor.”

  I chuckle at the ridiculous nickname from the gym. “What are you doing, my little wood nymph?”

  “You said you wanted to sleep each night and wake each morning with me in your bed, but we missed the past two days.” Her lips pout in the cutest of manners. “So I thought I’d surprise you by being in your bed when you returned home.”

  “Does my assistant know you are here?’ I tease, tugging off my own shirt as I kick off my shoes. Pam never really quit me, not in my writing career or my personal life.

  “I told her she had the day off.”

  “You know I’m going to have to pay her for that time off.”

  “Kisses?” she asks, arching a brow at me.

  Pam starts at my left pec. True to what I promise, I had two additional lines added to my chest. I am not my beginning. I will not repeat the past. The font matches the previous work—change your destiny—so it reads seamlessly. In addition, I added a bright purple lilac. Working at my pants, removing my boxer briefs at the same time, I speak to her. “This tops the surprise of finding you sick on my couch.”

  “What about the surprise of the baby?”

  “Yeah, that was a surprise, too.” I chuckle, standing before her in all my glory. I reach out and swipe a finger along her hairline.

  “But you’re happy, right?” Her voice turns serious as those blue eyes that match heaven stare back at me.

  “Lilac, I’ve never been able to define happiness until now.” My hand pulls down the sheet covering her, revealing her luscious, swelling breasts. I’ll get to savoring those in a minute. First, I place my hand on her belly. “This is happiness to me.” I lower to kiss her there, and her stomach flinches with the tickling touch.

  “And this is happiness to me,” I state, sitting up and placing a kiss on her mouth. Without words, I’m telling her that her in my bed, at any time of day, brings me the best of feelings.

  “I love you,” she says to me as she says every day, and I feel it around me like a constant embrace. I see it in all the things she does for me, and I still kick myself that I hadn’t seen it before. Here’s the thing about love. When you haven’t had it, you don’t know what to look for. You just know it’s different from anything else. Pam is my different. She’s everything I never thought I could have, but I’m so thankful she’s mine.

  “I love you, too,” I tell her. “Now, let’s get to the part of you in this bed.”

  “Are you going to be a big grumbling bear?” she teases as I lean toward her, pressing her back to the mattress.

  “More like a beast,” I reply, groaning into her neck.

  “Hmm, I might like grumbling Jacob.” She falls to her back, wrapping her arms around me, and I shift to lay over her.

  “I promise to be a giant teddy bear afterward,” I tease, and Pam laughs under me, rumbling against my skin. Her laughter is the best, and I cover her mouth with mine to capture the sound. My hands roam before I remove my mouth from hers and lower for a breast, savoring the fullness. Her body is changing, but it’s proof of our connection. We did this together, and I’ve never been happier.

  My fingers lower, slipping between her thighs while her hand wraps around my dick. As she squeezes, I moan. “Two days was two too many.” I don’t want to sleep in a bed without her again.

  Her mouth seeks mine as we touch each other, reacquainting despite it only being days. Touching her is never going to get old.

  “Soon, I’ll be too big for you to climb over me,” she says, wiping a hand over the slight bump at her lower abdomen.

  “We’ll be creative like we’ve always been.” Two fingers easily enter her, and her head falls back.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I hum at her throat.

  “I love your sense of creativity,” she murmurs as I bring her to the edge. She’s so close, and I love to watch her break, but I need to be inside her. I need to feel her release around me. I pull out my fingers, and she whimpers, but I’m quick to replace my fingers with something more. Sliding into her heat, I groan with an overwhelming sense of home. And rightness. And happiness. She’s my light in the dark, and she’s brightening that darkness more and more every day.

  “You’re going to be my wife,” I grunt as I thrust into her. Her arms lift, hands flattening on the bookcase behind her head. My hands cover her wrists as I rock my hips, filling her repeatedly.

  “Your wife,” she strains, her orgasm building.

  “And the mother of my child,” I stammer, hammering into her faster.

  “A mother,” she whispers, a faint smile gracing her face. That smile does something to me. I’m unleashed, rocking into her harder, reaching deeper within her. For the first time, I feel as if I’ve given something to her. I don’t always take. My seed inside her will make her a mother, and I’ll do it again and again if she’ll give me the present look on her face—the one of pure bliss.

  “Jacob,” she warns me, my name like a prayer on her lips. Her legs wrap over my hips, and she arches her back, forcing me deeper as she comes around me in wave after wave. I still my own motions, jolting inside her, giving her all of me in return.

  Nothing will ever be the same for me, and I’ll fight to the end of my days to keep it this way.

  + + +

  I have another book to write, a baby on the way, and my angel in my bed with me. We decided Ella’s old room would be a good nursery, although at first, the baby will sleep in a bassinet in our room. I don’t know any of this baby lingo, but I am learning as I promised Pam I would. She’s an excellent teacher. I especially love it when she rewards me with things, like sex on the future nursery floor.

  “What if we have more than one child?” I asked her once we finished, staring up at
the large empty space too big for a single child’s bedroom.

  “You’d have more than one child?” she questioned, turning her head to face me.

  “I’d have more than one child with you, Lilac,” I told her, returning my spent body to blanket hers. “How many do you want?”

  I’ll admit, I held my breath.

  “Three seems like a good number,” she said, so three will be what she gets. I have faith in my super sperm to get the job done. We wouldn’t be using protection in the future, which heightens my odds.

  My love for her blooms daily and now it will blossom with the birth of a baby. I never knew how much I longed for love, and my heart is near exploding with how much it wants to give.

  Three babies and my Lilac. Some days, it seems like too much. I don’t know how I got so fortunate. It couldn’t have only been an accident, but destiny with an angel dropped from heaven.

  My evermore.

  Thank you for reading.

  Up next in the Heart Collection: View With Your Heart

  If you like small town romances, you might also like The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge. Start here: Silver Brewer

  Want to stay up to date on all things L.B. Dunbar: Love Notes

  + + +

  Thank you for taking the time to read this book. Please consider writing a review on major sales channels where ebooks and paperbooks are sold.

  More by L.B. Dunbar

  Sexy Silver Foxes

  When sexy silver foxes meet the women of their dreams.

  After Care

  Midlife Crisis

  Restored Dreams

  Second Chance

  Wine&Dine

  The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

  More sexy silver foxes in the mountain community of Blue Ridge

  Silver Brewer

  Silver Player

  Silver Mayor

  Silver Biker

  Collision novellas

  A spin-off from After Care – the younger set/rock stars

  Collide

  Caught – a short story

  Smartypants Romance (an imprint of Penny Reid)

  Tales of the Winters sisters set in Penny Reid’s Green Valley.

  Love in Due Time

  Love in Deed

  Love in a Pickle (2021)

  Rom-com for the over 40

  The Sex Education of M.E.

  The Heart Collection

  Small town, big heart - stories of family and love.

  Speak from the Heart

  Read with your Heart

  Look with your Heart

  Fight from the Heart

  View with your Heart

  A Heart Collection Spin-off

  The Heart Remembers

  The Legendary Rock Star Series

  Rock star mayhem in the tradition of King Arthur.

  A classic tale with a modern twist of romance and suspense

  The Legend of Arturo King

  The Story of Lansing Lotte

  The Quest of Perkins Vale

  The Truth of Tristan Lyons

  The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance

  Paradise Stories

  MMA romance. Two brothers. One fight.

  Abel

  Cain

  The Island Duet

  Intrigue and suspense. The island knows what you’ve done.

  Redemption Island

  Return to the Island

  Modern Descendants – writing as elda lore

  Magical realism. Modern myths of Greek gods.

  Hades

  Solis

  Heph

  + + +

  Keep in touch with L.B. Dunbar

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  Website

  Turn the page for an excerpt of View With Your Heart.

  Excerpt –

  View With Your Heart – Book 5 in the Heart Collection

  Take 1

  [Gavin]

  The view around me brings a wave of memory.

  Blonde hair bright as the sunshine streaming across the water. Blue eyes the color of the deepest portion of the lake.

  The soft lull of the lake water lapping at the shore suggests summer, a time reminiscent of light breezes, hurried kisses, and Britton McKay.

  Neither she nor I have been in this area in thirteen years and it feels surreal to be here at all.

  Home.

  I didn’t exactly grow up on the shores of Elk Lake but in the countryside around it. The land filled with cherry orchards, chirping crickets and chattering cicadas. My parents still live on the century old farm, and I haven’t seen them in over a decade.

  As I sit on the third-floor balcony of a condominium rental that wasn’t built when I left twenty years ago, I stare out at the glimmer of sunlight rippling across the lake before me. I’m a long way from the place I now call home—California. I’ve rented this condo for the next two weeks, encompassing my business at the Traverse City Film Festival, an event thirty minutes from my current location, and the upcoming nuptials of my childhood best friend, Jess Carter.

  I’m honored to stand up for him. Jess was practically another brother. I’ve been thinking a lot about friendships and family this summer. How I’ve been a shitty brother to my real one and even shittier as a son. I pulled away for my own sanity, but now, I feel like I’m missing out on something. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. The last time I was in the area I holed up for the weekend with a beautiful girl. The weekend turned into something wild and unpredicted, and I smile once more with memories of Britton.

  My eyes remain on the dancing waves. They don’t crash here like the angry Pacific against the sandy beaches of the west coast. They softly glide and skitter back. The movement is graceful and reminds me again of Britton. I was eighteen when we met and on my way to the Baseball Hall of Fame, if my father had anything to say about it. In the end, he had no say in the course of my life. I’d been eager to bust from here. Baseball was my future. However, when your world centers around sports, the axis feels unbalanced when you quit.

  And I quit, according to my father.

  I lean forward in the balcony chair, continuing to gaze out at the slice of lake before me. The liquid expanse runs for miles to my left. The homes circling this lake have certainty changed in the course of my thirty-eight years. Most are huge and valued at close to a million dollars. Who’d a thought?

  I wonder if Leo still has a place here.

  It’d be a long shot that Britton’s uncle still owned a home on these shores. Swiping a hand through my thick hair, I realize he’d be almost a hundred by now. Slowly, my smile fads when I consider the alternative for an old man.

  I’d been thinking of death too much lately as well. Or perhaps it was life I was contemplating. What have I accomplished in nearly forty years? What will I do next?

  I sigh, knowing part of the answer. I’m here for the festival to showcase an independently produced film. It’s a passion project and I’m proud of it.

  Swiping fingers through my thick hair once more, I lean back in the rickety outdoor seat. My long legs slide forward, and I stretch. My eyes catch on a woman walking on the beach. Her blonde hair blows in the early evening breeze. Her summer dress billows around her thighs. It’s one of those scenes that looks unreal, almost staged, and I’d love to capture her with my camera.

  Instead, I freeze frame her in my mind.

  The waves lick at her bare feet as she carries a pair of sandals in her hand. On occasion, she whips her head to clear her face of the loose hairs floating about her. She looks effervescent as if she doesn’t actually exist on this beach. She’s elegant despite the awkwardness of walking on the uneven sand. She has the grace of a dancer.

  The thought makes me sit taller and narrow my eyes at her.

  Once upon a time, Britton wanted to be a dancer, and I c
urse myself for thinking of her again. She was a summer girl when we met, which meant she didn’t live in the area. She was only visiting for three months. The timing was after my high school graduation and before I left for college. That was the best June, July and August of my life. I was reckless, thoughtless even, but not with her. She was all I thought about that summer. We had temporary written all over us, but perhaps that was the appeal. Summer loves are like that—unparalleled because of the limitation on them.

  As I have a good view of the woman, I continue to watch her from my seat on the third floor. She stills a second, spinning in a half-circle to again settle that hair dancing around her face. The breeze blows it back as she faces west. With her back to me, I imagine her eyes closing as she feels the sun heat her cheeks. I’m enthralled by her movements which are nothing out of the ordinary. Any woman might move in this manner to clear her face on a breezy, late afternoon.

  It's when she turns back around, dips her head and brushes only one side of her hair behind her ear that I stiffen. I do a double take and squint harder at her.

  It can’t be.

  Britton was just as hell bent on being somebody as me. New York called her name, she said. We were headed to opposite coasts.

  Yet, the movement of her hand, the way she holds it on the side of her neck a second after brushing back her hair feels too coincidental. She begins walking again, coming almost parallel to my view, and stops before the condo building. Putting her back to me again, she looks at the water once more and more memories rush over me.

  A tiny boat, a dark night and fireworks bursting over the water.

  Shaking my head, I realize I’m imprinting, merging my history with reality. I blame it on my emotions which are a roller coaster ride of peaks and valleys at being so close to home and soon to see my family.