Desire is a game without rules
Optimistic and hardworking, Angela Bouler prides herself on getting through life without asking for an assist. School, two jobs, caring for her nephew, Cory—she’s keeping it all together...then Isaiah Reynolds bounces into her life. The Jacksonville Gators’ star forward is coaching at Cory’s summer camp, but guardians and mentors aren’t supposed to mix—and certainly not surrender to red-hot kisses...
Isaiah has an image of the perfect partner in his head, and it doesn’t quite mesh with Angela’s hectic life. Or her evening job serving drinks at a gentlemen’s club. But deep down, she’s the only woman who sparks a true connection. He’s expected to keep his image spotless, but instead he’s risking everything on a strong, sexy, complicated woman. Winning her heart won’t be easy, but it’s becoming the only play that really matters...
A large hand wrapped around her wrist and prevented her from impersonating a flipped pancake.
Awareness prickled up her arm from the strong hand around her wrist. Her gaze lifted all the way up to a pair of dark sexy eyes. Her heart stumbled worse than her feet and air sprinted from her lungs like a that of a runner’s. Isaiah Reynolds.
The lean muscles of his arms were bared by a sleeveless red athletic shirt. Basketball shorts partially covered sculpted legs long enough to make a redwood jealous. If a tree could get jealous. The spice of sweat and his own masculine scent swirled through her senses and made her knees wobbly. Recognition brightened his warm brown eyes. For a split second he seemed happy and surprised right before his brows furled. His lips, the lower one fuller and so damn kissable, twisted into a frown.
“Angel?” he said in a tenor tone that was as smooth as silk and ran over her just as seductively.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for spending your time with my characters today. When I first introduced Isaiah in Full Court Seduction, I knew I had to write a story for him. The so-called “good guy” of the team needed a woman to make him put all his rules aside in the name of love. Angela “Angel” did exactly that. She’s not what he planned for, nor did he expect their first introduction to cause so much change in his life. Angela has been hit with some hard blows, but she remains upbeat and optimistic. Her refusal to let circumstances beat her down is one of the reasons Isaiah can’t help but fall for her.
I hope you enjoy their road to happily-ever-after. Please be sure to leave a review or drop me an email at [email protected] and let me know what you think.
Happy reading!
Synithia W.
Overtime for Love
Synithia Williams
Synithia Williams has been an avid romance-novel lover since picking up her first at the age of thirteen. It was only natural that she would begin penning her own romances soon after—much to the chagrin of her high school math teachers. She’s a native of South Carolina and now writes romances as hot as their southern settings. Outside of writing, she works on water quality and sustainability issues for local government. She’s married to her own personal hero, and they have two sons who’ve convinced her that professional wrestling and superheroes are supreme entertainment. When she isn’t working, writing, or being a wife and mother, she’s usually bingeing on TV series, playing around on social media or planning her next girls’ night out with friends. You can learn more about Synithia by visiting her website, www.synithiawilliams.com, where she blogs about writing, life and relationships.
Books by Synithia Williams
Harlequin Kimani Romance
A New York Kind of Love
A Malibu Kind of Romance
Full Court Seduction
Overtime for Love
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to the great team at Harlequin Kimani: Shannon Criss and Keyla Hernandez. You two helped tighten my stories, always answered my questions and were super helpful during my time with Kimani. I wish you much success in your future endeavors.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Excerpt from Soaring on Love by Joy Avery
Chapter 1
Bless the soul of the person who invented air-conditioning.
Angela Bouler sighed in ecstasy when she opened the door to the North Region Activity Center and cool air kissed her skin. Heat and humidity had combined to make summer in Jacksonville, Florida, beat Hell on the hot and uncomfortable scale. She leaned back against the open door and turned to her only nephew, who was coming up behind her. Oblivious to the heat, and enthralled by his cell phone, Cory walked slower than a two-legged tortoise.
“Come on, Cory. Whatever is on that thing will still be there once we’re inside the air-conditioned building.” Her attempt at an upbeat tone wilted.
After scrambling to get off work early so she could pick up Cory from her neighbor and get him to the activity center in time to sign up for a month-long basketball camp, in the middle of a heat wave straight from the pits of Hell, she didn’t feel too bad about not being perky. She’d left the blazer she’d worn to her day job as a court-appointed advocate for foster children in the car, but even without the extra layer, her blouse stuck to her back and tendrils of hair escaped the ponytail she’d swept her thick shoulder-length hair into and clung to her neck.
Cory slipped his phone into the pocket of his basketball shorts and picked up his speed to match that of a three-legged tortoise. “I’m hungry,” he grumbled.
“You’re always hungry.”
“I’m growing. I’m almost a man now,” he said with a cocky, know-it-all smile perfected by teenagers everywhere.
Angela rolled her eyes but didn’t suppress her grin. “Whatever, man. Pay me back for the box of Hot Pockets you ate in one day.”
“I said almost a man. I’m broke.” Cory grinned and looked so much like her brother Angela’s heart hurt. He was as tall as she was, but would probably grow several more inches. Despite his slow pace, his skin, the color of dark honey, held a red flush from the heat.
Angela ruffled his purposefully messy high-top fade, then gently pushed him farther into the cool building. Cory tried not to laugh and brushed her hand away. Ever since her brother’s girlfriend, Heather, had dropped off Cory at Angela’s door a month ago, saying nothing more than “I can’t take him to New York—he’ll ruin my chance at a stage career,” Cory had done nothing but eat, eat and then eat more, all while growing half an inch every fifteen minutes. Her fifteen-hundred-square-foot apartment felt like five hundred and if she didn’t hide her good ice cream in an old bag of frozen peas she’d have noth
ing to eat. Though she suspected Cory’s never-ending appetite would eventually lead him to explore the frozen veggies and discover her hiding place.
She closed the door and directed Cory toward the main desk. “Come on. Let’s get you signed up. This will be fun!” She managed legit excitement with the last statement.
The grin on Cory’s face melted away. Another thing she was learning about thirteen-year-old boys—they went from happy to sullen in a split second. “This is charity.”
“A favor isn’t charity. One of the boys originally registered for camp dropped out and my boss was nice enough to let me sign you up. There are plenty of other kids we work with who would love to be in your place. Do you want me to tell my boss to give the registration to another kid?”
Her office got five registrations to the activity center’s coveted camp with the Jacksonville Gators professional basketball team. Angela hadn’t asked for Cory to get the newly opened spot, but couldn’t turn it down when her boss approached her at the last minute. Cory deserved some joy. Her brother, Darryl, was serving time for embezzling funds at his job—the idiot—and his mom had up and left for New York. Angela refused to be another person who let him down. She would do whatever she could to make Cory feel wanted. Even though she had no idea what she was doing. Kids hadn’t been in her short-or long-term plans.
Cory stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “No.”
“Then zip it and let’s get you registered.” Angela rubbed his back and smiled.
She understood his aversion to accepting things. Help from others usually came with a price. Something she’d learned after her parents died and her aunt considered the money Angela’s parents left for Angela and her brother’s college educations to be her “reward” for taking in the kids. After that lesson, Angela chose to rely on herself to get what she wanted out of life. She’d taken a job as a bartender at a gentlemen’s club to pay for her undergraduate degree and continued serving drinks part-time after landing the position as an advocate to help cover the costs of graduate school. She paid her own way and was proud of that, but a coveted spot in a basketball camp with professionals was an exception to her don’t-accept-help rule.
She looked around the inside of the activity center. The large one-story building was filled with light from the multitude of windows along the front. It housed a gymnasium, rooms for various exercise and art classes, and a large meeting space. A table next to one of the classrooms had a sign that identified it as the spot to register for the Gators’ basketball camp.
They signed in at the desk and were directed inside, where twenty other kids and their parents and guardians sat waiting. She and Cory found a seat toward the front. Angela spotted and waved at the program director, Keri Little. Keri was a petite firecracker of a woman with mocha skin and natural red hair cut into a short tapered style. Angela often spoke with Keri when recommending kids from their office to the program.
Keri moved to the front of the room and tapped on the desk to get everyone’s attention. The hum of conversation disappeared and Keri gave the room a hundred-watt smile.
“Good afternoon! First, I want to thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to come to the orientation for the Jacksonville Gators’ basketball camp. This is going to be a great year, not only because I know we’ve got a great group of kids, but also because our Gators are league champions!”
Keri cheered and many of the parents and kids joined in. Cory sat up straighter. Excitement crept into his light brown eyes. Angela felt a rush of satisfaction. Finally, a show of interest.
“I know an orientation for a basketball camp may seem odd,” Keri continued, “but believe me, after partnering with the Gators for seven years to bring this program together, there are a lot of things we want to make sure we let parents and kids know. Plus, this year we have a few changes. Each year, Coach Gray lets me know which players will be participating in the camp. If you look in your packet, you’ll see a list of the players attending and when they’ll be here. Coach Gray just informed me that this year’s host player will be none other than star forward Isaiah Reynolds!”
Another murmur went through the crowd as a quick flash of excitement surged through Angela. She couldn’t serve drinks in a popular gentlemen’s club and not have come across a few members of the Gators team. As the team’s “good guy,” Isaiah was typically an exception to the rule, but he’d come in after the team won the championship and they all came in to celebrate at the club.
To her surprise, he’d hung out at the bar instead of making it rain hundred-dollar bills in the VIP section. She’d served him drinks. He’d asked about her tribal tattoo, an African symbol of strength, on her wrist. Not in the creepy, I’m-trying-to-fake-interest-to-hook-up-with-you way she often got. He’d seemed genuinely interested. Before long, they’d struck up a conversation that never lapsed or grew stale, even when she walked away to serve other customers. She’d felt a connection, so much so that she’d debated whether to give him her number if he wanted it, but he’d left without asking.
She’d been a little disappointed, but things happened for a reason. Isaiah not asking for her number had probably been for the best. Most guys who hit on her at the club only wanted a quick hookup. Not her style. That didn’t stop the flutter of her heart at the thought of seeing him again.
“I know we’re all very excited to be interacting with such talented players, but please remember, they’re here for the camp—not for socializing. We’re very protective of their privacy,” Keri said, as if she could sense the anticipation jolting through Angela.
Angela’s face heated even though Keri wasn’t looking at her. She was here for Cory. One cool conversation with Isaiah wasn’t important.
Keri’s smile shifted to a look of determination. “One of the reasons this program works so well is because of the rules. So here they are. There will be plenty of opportunities for you and your kids to take pictures with the players. So please, no selfies, unsolicited shots, or requests for pictures. Do not ask for autographs. The players will give each kid an autographed jersey at the end of camp. No asking for money.” Keri held up a hand when a few parents, including Angela, chuckled in surprise. “I know that sounds obvious, but we’ve had people try. And again, please respect boundaries—parents, that also means no fraternizing with the players, if you know what I mean. Violation of any of these rules will result in your child’s immediate withdrawal from the program.”
The lady next to Angela tapped her with her elbow. “Too bad, huh?”
Angela gave her a weak smile. When she looked at Cory he snickered with a hand over his mouth. “Why are you laughing?”
“Fraternizing with a player?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Angela rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
Keri went through more of the rules. Angela pulled the papers out of the packet and skimmed through them. Despite the brief moment of excitement when she’d learned Isaiah would be at the camp, she really didn’t want to interact with the players. That would limit the possibility of them connecting Angel the bartender to Angela Bouler the advocate. She wasn’t ashamed of her bartending job, but her supervisor in the advocacy office thought the fact that she also worked at a strip club was best kept under the radar. Their director was ultraconservative, and he wouldn’t want any hint of a scandal.
A player recognizing her didn’t necessarily mean word of her part-time job would get back to their director, but to be sure, she’d limit her interactions. Drop off Cory in the morning, pick him up after work, and that was it. She could admire Isaiah Reynolds from afar and come up with silly fantasies of what might’ve happened if he’d asked for her number. She wouldn’t risk her job or Cory’s shot at some happiness just to talk to Isaiah Reynolds again.
Chapter 2
Isaiah watched the tattoo n
eedle scrape across the upper arm of his teammate and friend Kevin Kouky and grimaced. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming here.”
Kevin grinned at Isaiah from a seat in his favorite tattoo parlor. “You know you want one.”
Isaiah only grunted and shifted in his own seat. Kevin and the tattoo artist, Jack, both chuckled. Isaiah ignored them and studied the pictures of the elaborate tattoos on the wall. Skin Ink was one of the biggest and best tattoo parlors in the Jacksonville area. Most of the members of the Jacksonville Gators basketball team got their art there.
Isaiah had no idea how many tattoos Kevin had in total. His arms, chest and part of his neck were covered with colorful designs. Today he filled in a blank spot on his right forearm with a picture of the championship trophy and the date. He’d told Isaiah the spot was saved for that reason. Kevin was thirty-five and one of the oldest members of the team, even though his colorful tattoos and even more colorful attitude made people think he was younger. He’d waited a long time to win a championship and even though Isaiah never wanted a tattoo himself, he was happy to watch Kevin fill in the spot. Well...willing to watch.
“I don’t see the point of scarring my body unnecessarily.” Isaiah repeated the words his dad often said whenever he saw tattoos on a person. He tugged uncomfortably on his white polo shirt. His mother and father were both college professors, in engineering and chemistry, respectively. They weren’t big fans of art, which definitely included body art. Isaiah had once felt the same, but after years playing basketball in college and professionally, he’d come to appreciate good body art—at least, on someone else.
Kevin looked down at the needle marking his arm. “Each tat has a reason. When you have a good reason, you’ll get one.”
Isaiah had flirted with the idea of getting a tattoo before, but hadn’t thought of anything he liked enough to permanently emblazon on his pecan-brown skin. Maybe the chemical symbol for testosterone or a differential equation. His parents might not freak out over a chemical bond or engineering nod versus a picture of the championship trophy. The idea made him smile even though he’d never do it. He no longer did things that would shock or disappoint his parents.
Overtime for Love Page 1