by Violet Duke
Smiling, Leila snuggled into Jackson’s arms and said, “Just leave it all to me. I know there’s no such thing as an engagement ring for guys, so consider this an engagement gift.” She chuckled as dawning understanding crept across his face. “Because I predict the months to come are about to become very entertaining for you.”
When his mouth found her ear to thank her for the gift, he flung them to a brand-new conversational tangent by whispering red-hot descriptions of just how entertaining he was planning to make the next few months for her as well.
Competitive man always trying to outdo her predictions…
Lucky her.
But the following night, instead of starting on his deliciously dirty little to-do list, he did something breathtakingly better. After a casual reminder that he’d, in fact, made four calls in the car the day before—the last one, apparently, having been made to Bennett—Jackson walked her up to a door in his loft she remembered led to a big empty spare room.
“Used to,” he explained cryptically before turning the knob.
Half expecting to see a new sex dungeon of sorts as she pushed the door open, she gasped when she saw the interior.
Evidently, under the obsessively watchful eye of Jackson, and a few dozen or so particularly invested “experts” arguing over every last detail, Bennett and his entire construction crew had worked nonstop in Jackson’s loft to turn their collective visions into a reality.
Jackson called it a special space that she could call all her own after she moved in, to use as an office or woman-cave when she returned home from Florida in a month.
Leila called it the most beautiful sight she’d ever laid eyes on.
Second only to the heart-melting sight she was gifted with a moment later, of Jackson going down on one knee and slipping her grandmother’s ring on her finger.
Right there, in the middle of her very own stunningly majestic, beyond-her-wildest-dreams, NFL-worthy football war room.
To my amazing Loveswept team at Penguin Random House.
As the saying goes, it takes a village.
And I simply couldn’t ask for—or even conjure from my most hopeful imagination—a more fabulous, talented village to be a part of. I’m so thankful for you all.
Acknowledgments
A very special thank-you to MVD (Mr. Violet Duke) for all his unparalleled football coaching expertise. As he does in so many other aspects of my life, he makes what I know and love all the more complete, and infinitely better. And for every single day I’ve woken up at my usual three a.m. hour to find that (yet again, without fail) he has switched the TV to the NFL Network before he went to bed just so NFL AM would be on for me to rewind and happily watch commercial-free with my morning tea, I owe him far more than mere thanks. Because without even trying, the adorable man inevitably becomes responsible for my first smile of the day, each and every morning, and raises the bar that much higher for my fictional heroes to reach. I am one lucky, lucky girl.
BY VIOLET DUKE
The Fourth Down Series
Jackson’s Trust
Bennett’s Chance (coming soon)
The Can’t Resist Series*
Resisting the Bad Boy
Falling for the Good Guy
Choosing the Right Man
Finding the Right Girl
*The Can’t Resist series is also available in the NICE GIRL box set
The Cactus Creek Series
Love, Chocolate, and Beer
Love, Diamonds, and Spades
Love, Tussles, and Takedowns
Love, Exes, and Ohs
Love, Sidelines, and Endzones
The Unfinished Love Series
Before that Night (Caine & Addison, book 1)
His to Love (Caine & Addison, book 2)
Before that Kiss (Gabe & Hannah, book 1)
His to Hold (Gabe & Hannah, book 2)
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author VIOLET DUKE is a former professor of English Education ecstatic to now be on the other side of the page writing wickedly fun contemporary romances filled with strong, unique heroines and memorably romantic heroes. When she’s not feeding her book-a-day reading addiction, Duke enjoys tackling reno projects with her power tools, trying pretty much anything without reading the directions first, and cooking impossible-to-be-duplicated “special edition” dishes that laugh in the face of recipes. A born-and-raised island girl, she spends her days in Hawai’i chasing after her two cute kids (daughter, Violet, and son, Duke) and similarly adorable husband (their ringleader).
violetduke.com
Facebook.com/VioletDukeBooks
@VioletDukeBooks
The Editor’s Corner
March into romance this month with Loveswept—snuggle up with your e-reader and our new books to escape the chill of those cold winter nights.
Who doesn’t love naked men? In Christi Barth’s Risking It All, friends bonded by tragedy fight for their future with strong and sassy women. In New York Times bestselling author Tracy Wolff’s Lovegame, a damaged starlet bares her soul—and falls for the one man who cares enough to listen. Speaking of games, New York Times bestselling author Violet Duke kicks off her sizzling-hot new Fourth Down series with a friends-to-lovers romance between a no-strings-attached sports analyst and the hottest damn tomboy he’s ever met in Jackson’s Trust. As Sawyer Bennett’s New York Times bestselling Cold Fury series continues with Hawke, the league’s most notorious party animal gets blindsided by the one that got away. The world of extreme sports just got a little steamier in Zoe Dawson’s Ramping Up. Second chances are sweeter than ever for a reformed bully who’s more than just a jock in Charlotte Stein’s next installment of the steamy Dark Obsession series, Never Sweeter. And Shana Gray’s provocative new novel features a resilient fighter going round for tantalizing round with the one that got away in After the Hurt.
For history fans, the Highland Knights series continues with a tight-knit band of Scottish mercenaries in USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Haymore’s Highland Awakening. Don’t miss the first book in USA Today bestselling author Ashlyn Macnamara’s charming new regency romance trilogy, To Lure a Proper Lady.
And for those contemporary romance fans, there’s a new voice in romance you won’t want to miss—A. M. Madden—who cleans up the city streets in the first book in her new True Heroes series, Stone Walls, featuring hot alpha men on the NYPD force. New York Times bestselling author Marquita Valentine ratchets up the tension as new beginnings lead to undeniable passion in After We Fall. And in Resist, a sizzling novel from New York Times bestselling author Missy Johnson, a young journalist goes undercover in a world of desire.
I’m sad to say it’s over…but it’s not over over, as there is a bouquet of beautiful romances awaiting you in April!
Until next month—Happy Romance!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
Read on for an excerpt from
Bennett’s Chance
A Fourth Down Novel
by Violet Duke
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
This is going to be a friggin’ nightmare.
Scowling at the no-blade-of-grass-out-of-place landscaping leading up to the grand entrance of the ultra-exclusive country club he lacked the minimum annual salary to even take a piss in, Bennett Rivera found himself resisting the urge to check if his hands were clean.
Yet again.
Sure, he did the same thing whenever he went over to visit his folks, but that was for an entirely different reason. It didn’t matter if he or his five brothers were covered from head to toe in construction grime; their mother would always yank them each into a big, warm hug without a second thought to her own clothing whatsoever.
And then soundly smack them upside the head if she saw even a single dirty fingernail in the bunch.
“I raised you better,” she’d always scold, before wordlessly pointing at the kitchen sink, where there would always be a stack of
six fresh, fluffy, soft towels waiting for them, just in case.
As Bennett walked through the posh courtyard leading to the movie-set-like grand ballroom just inside the glass doors, he heard his mother’s words echo in his ears. Though with entirely new meaning.
Their whole lives, all the Rivera boys had been raised by their parents to be the very best individuals they could possibly be.
But never with the goal of being better than anyone else.
…A concept probably foreign to most of the people gathered tonight for this extravagantly lavish hoopla.
He supposed he couldn’t really blame them. When you had enough money to decorate every square inch of the highest vaulted ceilings he’d ever seen with precisely measured strings of crystals and fiber optic lights in order to mimic the splendor of giant icicles in an ice cave—admittedly a pretty damn cool effect—it was undoubtedly difficult not to think you were just a little bit better than everyone with shorter ceilings and plain ol’ twinkle lights.
Hell, Bennett had spent most of his childhood seeing his mother be an extraordinary woman, a genuinely good person. Kind. Caring. Classy beyond question. And it had always baffled him how the people she worked for, in stereo with all their similarly snobbish friends, would look down on her. Treat her like dirt. Talk to her like they were immeasurably better than she could ever hope to be.
Just because they had money.
For Bennett, the idea of spending the next five hours in a room filled to the brim with the rich and richer thus rated in about the same category as a scalding-hot enema administered during a Novocaine-free root canal.
Damn Jackson and Leila for roping him into this.
Though he was pretty sure Leila was the evil mastermind behind the whole thing, lucky for her, she had immunity against any perfectly justified payback on his part.
Mostly because he just plain adored the woman, but also partly because she was now officially engaged to Jackson—an honorary Rivera son as far as his folks were concerned. The fact that Bennett could count on at least a few dozen ridiculously protective NFL players and coaches lining up to kick his ass on Leila’s behalf if he messed with her was also an important factor.
“Hey, can I get a beer?” Bennett interrupted his epic brainstorming session on the top ten ways he could annoy the living daylights out of Jackson next week, to pull out a five-dollar bill to tip the bartender. “Anything domestic is fine.”
“There are no kegs back here, sir,” replied a nasally voice from behind the bar, absolutely dripping with disdain. “Perhaps a single malt scotch instead?” Another derisive sneer colored his tone. “We could even add some soda to it if that would make it more palatable for you, sir. Club soda of course; not the soft drink.”
Jesus, not even a few minutes into the evening.
Bennett felt his hands instantly curl into hammer-hard fists at his sides as he began silently counting to ten to keep his shit together, all the while fixing a level stare on the puny penguinlike asshat who was paling considerably with each passing second. When Bennett finally reached ten, he simply turned on his heel and walked away without a word. Or a much-needed drink.
Strike his previous thought.
He was definitely getting Leila back for this too.
It was bad enough that she’d arranged this ill-conceived blind date between him and the rich heiress in charge of this shindig. But not warning him to bring his own unpretentious booze so he could survive the evening was just plain mean.
Speak of the she-devil.
Seeing Leila’s caller ID info flashing on his vibrating phone, he headed over to a quiet corner so he could properly read the woman the riot act.
“You scared that poor bartender.”
Bennett froze, frowning in confusion. “Who is this?” The voice on the phone clearly didn’t belong to Leila.
It was softer, throatier. Undeniably sexier. In an almost…sweet way.
“This is Mia Carlton. Your date. Leila gave me her phone to use for the night.”
He sincerely doubted the loan had any financial rationale behind it. “Whose idea was that? Yours or Leila’s?”
A short pause, followed by a pleasantly amused, “Mine.”
Interesting.
Glancing around the room, he immediately began looking for a woman on a cellphone. If her voice was any indication, she was probably stunning. “How do you know that was me at the bar?” Jackson was a good buddy and all, but it’s not like either of them went around carrying photos of each other to show to random women.
“You were pretty easy to spot. No one else looks quite as annoyed to be here.”
A thorny barb of guilt stabbed him in the gut. “Sorry about that. No offense. It’s a great party, really.” He wasn’t just giving her lip service either. The gala was obviously a huge hit.
“No apologies necessary. And thank you.”
When she still didn’t reveal herself, after a good minute or so, his curiosity grew. “Are you coming over to say hi anytime soon? Or are we doing this date over the phone?”
“That all depends on you. Think you can find me before the evening ends?”
Well, hell.
Looks like his night wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
Feeling the adrenaline start to pump through his system the way it used to on game nights right before he’d take the field, he took another good look at all the women in the crowd. “I bet I can find you in the next five minutes, tops.”
She was smiling into the phone; he could hear it. She was also walking now, the background noises shifting just enough for him to notice. “No fair leaving the room, honey.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not cheating. I’m just getting into a better position so I can see how gracefully you take the loss when your time runs out.”
Those were some cute little fighting words, of the sophisticated and eloquent variety. Who knew the combination would be a turn-on?
“Once you get settled, no more moving around. Deal?”
In a voice loaded with quiet confidence, she agreed, “Deal.”
“And I get to ask you three questions, which you have to answer, before the five minutes are up.”
She didn’t even miss a beat. “Sounds fair. As long as you don’t ask what I look like, or what I’m wearing. Or anything about my surroundings.”
What in the world was left to ask?
“Deal?” she volleyed back. Audibly smiling again.
He grinned into the phone. “You’re on.”
Good lord, he was actually having fun.
He’d have to remember to ask Mia to keep that astonishing detail from Leila and Jackson when the night was through. “You settled in?”
The movement around her stilled. “Yep. Your time starts now.”
Straightaway, Bennett looked around for a woman glancing down at a watch. Not that he expected her to give herself up that easily.
“Not wearing a watch,” she offered helpfully. “And I’m on my wireless ear piece. Just saying. I don’t want you stalking over to every one of my guests talking on a cellphone.”
He’d listened carefully through all of that, but hadn’t been able to make out any distinguishing sounds or voices whatsoever. In fact, she sounded like she wasn’t very far away from him at all. Clever little phone nymph. She’d picked a good spot to hide in plain sight.
“The clock is ticking.”
Sass and spunk. Nothing at all what he was expecting from the middle daughter of one of the richest families in America. “First question. What are some of your favorite things to do?”
Her response came swiftly, in a tone soft with affection. “Playing with my goddaughter in the park every weekend. And doing pretty much anything out in nature, really.”
Bennett quickly put mental X’s on every vapid-looking woman in the room.
“I guess I also like shopping.”
Crap. He rewound to go back and reevaluate some of the women he’d eliminated.
“Actually
, that’s not entirely true,” she amended a beat later. “I’m not really a big shopper. I just do it occasionally to unwind.”
He couldn’t tell if she was changing her answer to fit what she figured he wanted to hear. Oddly, the possibility of that bothered him. A lot. Maybe it was because her voice was all she was giving him access to at the moment. For some strange reason, he wanted the answers accompanying that voice to be wholly unfiltered, even if they revealed her to be an über snob with a dozen platinum cards and a diamond-studded stick up her butt. He shrugged for her visual benefit. “Shopping’s cool.”
No, it wasn’t.
But if his white lie would stop her from feeding him one of her own, then that was moral math he was on board with.
“If you say so.” She sounded like she was shrugging right back. “I usually find shopping tiresome, which is why I buy a lot of my clothes online…with err, one exception.”
He waited her out, wondering over his continued interest in the topic—this was literally the longest conversation he’d ever had about clothing.
“Lingerie,” she admitted quietly. “The only thing I like going out to shop for is really pretty lingerie.”
A lightning-sharp spike of hot, undiluted lust shot through his system. Their little game just took on a whole new level of fun.
Good thing he was wearing a suit jacket.
“We’re going to revisit that interesting little tidbit when I find you, sweetheart. For the record, your honesty is sexy as hell.”
Now feeling like the Terminator with that crazy red vision that could catalog everyone in the room while it searched for its target, he fired his second question. “Any guilty pleasure foods? And I mean the ones that make you feel really guilty.”