First Love Second Chance

by Kira Blakely

  Jude pulled me close with his good arm. “I know, Ava. I’m sorry, too, for being such an asshole to you. I’m sorry about Andy, too. I miss him every damn day.”

  “I know. I miss him, too.”

  “I can’t race anymore,” Jude said quietly. “The motocross officials are going to ban me from the sport for a while because my blood test is going to show what everyone knew about the crash.”

  “They’ll ban you for a short period of time, Jude,” I said, tracing a tattoo on his chest. “They can’t do it for the rest of your life.”

  “It’s fine if they do. I’m just glad that I have you here. I have an idea for us to do together in the future.”

  I propped my chin on his chest to gaze up at him curiously. He smiled down at me as he brushed back my hair with one hand.

  “What sort of idea do you have?” I asked.

  The smile on his face grew.

  “You’ll see. I love you, Ava James. Don’t ever go running off on me again.”

  I pressed a tender kiss to the patch of skin above his heart. “I promise. I won’t ever run away from you again. I love you, too, Jude Jacobs.”

  A special note for you!

  YES, there is an epilogue, but I want to tell you about some exciting items I’ve included in this book. I know I sound like a broken record, but thank you so much for reading! I’ve included TONS of bonus content, including an EXCLUSIVE NEVER PUBLISHED novella–Big Hose!

  I’ve also included a What’s to Come section where I talk about a few group projects I’m in and my exciting new series.

  Now, go read the epilogue and then check out the exclusive content I have for you.

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  Jude

  Sunlight glinted off the snowy slopes of Aspen, Colorado. It was an endless valley of rugged, snow-covered mountains. The fresh pine air filled my lungs as snow crunched beneath my boots. I walked along the various booths in the direction of my tent.

  The X-Games was easily the most intense sport during the winter months. I had spent the past few weeks watching skiers and snowboarders do their stunts down the slick slopes of the mountains. They reminded me of myself a few months ago, when I had officially announced my retirement from motocross with Ava at my side.

  I spotted my tent out of the sea of tents, where the media camped out with hot coffee to fend off the cold. Extreme Sports with JJ. I smiled up at the banner taped to the sunshade. ESPN had been quick to offer a time slot with a three-year contract of six million dollars per year. It meant having to travel around the world to report about all the dangerous and extreme sports out there. Wherever ESPN told me to go, I went without batting an eyelash. I got to travel around the entire world, chasing the extreme sports that captured the nation’s attention. That was a job I felt proud of because I understood the athletes behind it. I had done it for a long time, too.

  It was a nice break from the physical aspects of being an athlete. I kept in shape, though, by going to the gym, but I also thrived on the fact that I could eat a cheeseburger if I wanted to without worry. My thigh still didn’t feel right, though. It was a physical scar, and a reminder that extreme sports had a short shelf life for many athletes.

  I spotted Ava standing next to a few cameramen from ESPN. They were all talking over their cups of coffee, taking a break from our recent interview. In a few hours, the games would retire for the night because of the frigid plunge of temperatures in the mountains.

  Ava’s dark locks of hair were braided back. She wore a thick pair of black leggings that hugged her curves in all the right ways. She wore a plaid coat with flannel lining beneath it to fight off the cold. I wrapped my arms around her waist tightly as she leaned back up against me with a smile.

  “Good interview,” she said. “I really liked it.”

  “Thank you.” I pressed a kiss against the side of her head. “We should be wrapping up here soon. Let’s go back to the hotel for a long hot bath. What do you think?”

  Everyone rolled their eyes around us in amusement. It didn’t even faze them even more. Our relationship was intense. Our sexual chemistry was explosive. They probably had heard more than they were wanting to hear, but it had been a condition of mine when ESPN hired me on as a commentator with my own time slot. Ava had to come with me.

  “Sounds good to me,” Ava said. “I have to update our blog tonight. Let everyone know to check out the interview. There’s also a special announcement I want to make with you, too.”

  I arched an eyebrow at the mischievous glint in her eye as she slipped away from me to help gather up the equipment when the announcer closed out the day. I had no idea what special announcement Ava had in mind, but I had my own special announcement as well. No one knew about either announcement, judging from the confused looks they gave us.

  While Ava was downstairs in the hotel lobby ordering us both hot drinks, I made quick work of spreading out rose petals all over the floor and bed. I placed a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, even though it was so cold outside that ice felt unnecessary. I gazed out the large windows of our private suite at the rugged mountains along with the bustling city of Aspen.

  I would never get tired of coming here. It was quiet and peaceful. Much like back in Gypsum. I patted the small box in my front pocket with a smile. It had taken some time for Ava’s parents to adjust to us traveling around together but they had accepted me into the family slowly over the past few months. After my retirement from motocross, they had started to look at our relationship seriously. They had visited us both a few weeks ago for Christmas in Chicago when I had asked Ava’s father for permission to marry Ava.

  “Take good care of her, JJ. That’s all I want for my little girl.”

  I planned to. I had made damn sure of it over the past few months that Ava had everything she wanted and needed.

  The door to our hotel suite opened. Ava stopped in surprise to see all the rose petals scattered about the floor and bed. She arched an eyebrow at me teasingly.

  “You’re going romantic on me,” she said. “Rose petals?”

  I rolled my eyes at the soft jest. I could see that she was touched by the gesture as she handed me a black coffee. The smell of green tea took me by surprise as I looked down at her cup.

  “No coffee for you?”

  Ava glanced down at her cup. “No. It’s part of my announcement, but you tell me what this is all about.”

  “How about you tell me your announcement,” I suggested and set our cups down on the coffee table. “I have a feeling it might tie into my surprise.”

  “Close your eyes, then.”

  I obliged, even though I was confused as hell about what she was doing. Her soft hands grasped mine gently. Something cold and plastic brushed against my fingers. It felt like a glossy photograph in my fingertips.

  “Okay,” Ava said softly. “Open your eyes.”

  I took in the dark photograph in my hand with a confused frown. Realization washed over me when I looked at the pregnancy test. The positive pregnancy test. I looked up as tears filled my eyes. Ava smiled at me while tears filled her eyes, too.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “A few weeks along. I found out when we were back in Chicago for Christmas vacation.”

  My heart leapt with joy as I swept Ava up into my arms. Fatherhood. A family. A few years ago, all of that would’ve struck fear into my head. Not now. Not after the past few months of having Ava at my side every day as we traveled the world together.

  “It’s a good thing that I put money down on that piece of land in Gypsum,” I said, pulling back to press a kiss to her lips with a smile. “We’re going to have to settle down somewhere, huh?”

  “What about your parents?” Ava asked. “Do you want to tell them or—”

  “They can figure it out,” I said, not willing to let them taint the moment.

  I reached into the pocket of my sweater. Nerves crashed over me, which seemed r
idiculous, given that we were expecting a baby together. Still, sweat gathered in my palms. My heart raced as I pulled the box out to open it as I sank down to one knee. Ava gasped in surprise as she stared down at me with wide eyes, full of a fresh wave of tears again.

  “Ava James,” I started, voice trembling. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed, hands shaking in mine. “Yes. Absolutely!”

  I slid the ring on her finger with a relieved sigh. The ring glittered in the soft light from the fireplace. I pressed a kiss to Ava’s hand as I stood up to gather her into my arms.

  We had spent the past few months traveling together around the world. Now, we were embarking on a new adventure that I couldn’t be more excited about.

  Thanks for reading!

  I hope you enjoyed First Love Second Chance. Keep read. I’ve included exclusive content that I know you will enjoy!

  Don’t want to miss out on Kira’s latest release dates and sneak peeks of upcoming books? Sign up for her newsletter to become a Kiralite! Receive a FREE steamy short story from Kira for signing up today!

  Click here:

  http://www.kirablakely.com/giveaway

  Throttle

  *Amazon Top 100 Best-seller, 4.7 stars, 345 reviews!*

  I’m a boss with my hands.

  Right about now is when I mention how big my… wrench is.

  No need.

  It speaks for itself.

  My story is simple: Michelle comes to my body shop and can’t pay for the repairs.

  I give them for free. I guess that’s a turn on.

  We crash against my desk both wanting it like fucking animals.

  Then poof, she’s gone.

  6 months later, I punch a crooked cop, and Michelle is assigned as my court appointed lawyer.

  One problem.

  The crooked cop in question will do anything to have her.

  Fuck that. She’s mine.

  Prologue:

  I’m Not This Kind of Girl

  My mother always used to say that I snap under pressure. Stack a ballet recital on top of a math test, and I’d pee my pants. So, what happens when your whole life is in boxes, traveling from Ohio to Texas, and then your Volvo’s heater pops– in January?

  You take it to the shop, naturally.

  I hadn’t done anything mind-numbingly reckless yet. But I was about to.

  My eyes tracked the mechanic from behind my box-framed glasses. I sat cross-legged in the waiting room, an open magazine on my lap, but there was this broad window peering directly into the garage. And the mechanic was dangling some metallic coil into the engine of my shabby wagon. It must have been heavy. His abdomen flattened and hardened from the strain. A band of muscle running from his back to his hips stood out beneath his skin.

  I knew because he was shirtless.

  In January.

  With the bay doors wide open, like a maniac.

  The mechanic shoved at my fender with his hips, forcing the hood down with a thrust.

  The sound of Stone Temple Pilots’ “Half the Man” seeped through the window.

  His mid-length hair was the color of pepper and void of any rhyme or reason. No comb, no product. It stayed wherever it landed. He moved around the garage as if the entire place was an extension of his body. Juicy biceps—

  “You aren’t wearing sunglasses, you know.” The teenaged receptionist interrupted my moment with a joyless grin.

  I tore my attention from the glass and cleared my suddenly tightened throat. “I was—looking at my reflection.”

  “Yeah, a lot of women do,” the girl replied with a smirk, returning to the task of texting someone.

  I focused on my dim reflection in the glass, critiquing the sloppy bun at the nape of my neck, overflowing with thick, dark hair. I’d been forced to wear clothes I wouldn’t normally wear: a white blouse a few touches too tight, a black pencil skirt with a small rip along the hem, wool stockings, a green plaid parka, and Converse sneakers. Boxes still lined the halls of my new place, and it was hard to find my good panties, much less a matching pair of heels.

  My first day as a public defender for Pelham County Court loomed over me. This heater was going to run me an extra $200 when my budget was already spread as thin as the frost on my damn windshield. And this teenager thought I was drooling over her boss? Please! I have much bigger—

  “Blown heater?” a gravelly baritone called with a thick twang.

  I adjusted my glasses and forced myself to a stand. He swaggered across the waiting room, flipping a black t-shirt over his forearm as he joined the teenager at the desk. Even though I was making eye contact with his nipples, I was the one who felt naked. I can’t believe I’m in here wearing sneakers. What would my mother say?

  As I crossed the room, I could see the details I’d missed. His shrewd gray eyes were dappled with hints of green, and his jaw was almost imperceptibly wider than his forehead and overgrown with stubble, giving him a near barbaric countenance. This wasn’t tempered by the fact that he couldn’t seem to summon a smile for me, even when our eyes met. I swallowed as I reached the counter, wondering if he might yell at me for mistreating the engine or something.

  “I’m the blown heater,” I announced meekly. Maybe he’d tear open my blouse and my bra and say, “I’m gonna teach you a lesson about cranking that coil too hard—”

  “You’re all set.” He gave me a perfunctory nod, clapped his secretary on the back, and retreated into the smaller, windowless office behind the front desk.

  I talked my nipples back down. “Yeah, a lot of women do,” the receptionist’s bored voice echoed in my head.

  She collected my bill from a DOS-era printer and passed it for my review.

  My eyes ogled the final number, tallying the itemized expenses, certain that labor couldn’t possibly be that expensive.

  This was almost nine hundred dollars, and I hadn’t even gotten my first paycheck yet.

  I swallowed the ball in my throat. “This was only supposed to be a couple hundred dollars,” I assured her with a little shake to my voice. “I made sure before I came here. I Googled it.”

  That teenybopper receptionist actually scoffed at me. “You should have requested an estimate,” she reminded me, like I was an idiot.

  I am an idiot. I should have requested the estimate. I thought it had been the blower, but it was the damn coil... Fuck. I was fucked.

  I pressed my palm to my forehead and gazed down at the floor, trying to do the mental math on survival. Technically, I had 918 dollars in my checking account. And that was about it. First month’s rent had already been paid, but there were no groceries in the fridge or anything. Fuck!

  “It’s nine—”

  “I heard you!” I snapped at the girl, even though she was about ten years younger than I and this wasn’t her fault. This was my fault. I frazzled and frayed under the pressure. I pursed my lips, and my eyes stung. I was not going to cry in front of this kid. I was not going to cry in front of this kid. It would be okay. I’d figure it—

  “Everything all right out there?” the mechanic called through his closed office door.

  “The lady’s got a problem,” the receptionist yelled back to him. “She doesn’t have nine hundred dollars.”

  The office door opened, and he leaned on its frame. I pulled my face out of my hands and willed myself to stop almost-crying. He wore a black t-shirt and an expression of stifled sympathy on his face. “Hey, come on in,” he invited, nodding toward the chair across from his desk. A dimple sank into one of his cheeks and his eyes sang as they touched on me. “This happens more often than you think.”

  I followed his command and entered the office, but I couldn’t settle in that chair like some beggar. I shook out the nervous energy in my hands and twisted, and he thrusted a handshake into my space.

  “I’m Ace.” His body heat radiated into mine and his scent tickled beneath my nose, a scent of sweat and metal and dirt, all things that should have been repuls
ive to me. But on him, that salty scent made my lips hot, made me feel bee stung and a little dizzy. Our palms slid together and the crisp winter air melted right off my fingertips. My throat pulsed. My pussy twinged sweetly between my legs, and my eyelashes softly fluttered.

  “I’m Miss—” I swallowed the lump in my throat and corrected myself. “I’m Michelle.”

  “Pleasure, Miss Michelle,” he said, retracting his hand and leaning his ass on the desk. Was it all in my mind that something had happened right then? “You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?”

  “No,” I answered vehemently.

  “Just wanted to be sure,” Ace assured me, putting his palms up in the sign of surrender.

  A surprising welt of resentment formed on my heart. I was not fucking homeless. I was not a drug addict or a prostitute. This was just a hard year for me; I didn’t need his goddamn pity.

  If only Mommy and Daddy could see me now... begging for a payment plan from a total stranger. I could hear my mother in my head, scoffing, “A tradesman!”

  I stood there and seethed wordlessly, trying to figure out how to say that I didn’t need help and I really needed help at the same time.

  “We could always put together some sort of a payment plan.” Ace lightly plucked the bill from my hand and examined it. “Could you do three hundred dollars for the next three months? That sound fair?”

  I bent my lower lip between my teeth and bit it gently. I couldn’t bear to confess that it was still three hundred dollars over budget. Three hundred dollars could feed me all month.

  “Um,” I whispered. What could I do? “I... I might be able to do...” I had to give him something. “Fifty?”

  His eyes darkened with something unknown and his nostrils flared. “Hm. What about this?” Ace crumpled the bill into a ball in his hand and nodded at me. “Welcome to Pelham County, Michelle.”

  My eyes ticked from the ruined bill to his eyes and back again, unable to compute such a gesture in this day and age. I wanted to tell him no, but my heart was already singing with gratitude. “Wh—really?” I squeaked.