Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Teagan Kade

  I look to Asher, but he’s not giving anything away.

  I reach down and take hold of the box, my heart racing.

  You’re going to be damn disappointed when you find earrings inside.

  The lights of Manhattan twinkle ahead as I open it.

  My mouth drops.

  I look up to find Asher kneeling beside me.

  He takes my hand. “Willow Grant,” he begins.

  “Yes,” I squeak, my usual voice replaced by that of a small piglet. My eyes well up. I never thought I’d be emotional in this moment, but it’s happening. It’s happening. I’m turning into a soggy, sappy mess at the sight of this man, my everything.

  There’s no flowery language, no cute catchphrase. He simply says, “Will you marry me?” His own eyes are wet and glassy, his intentions true.

  Fat tears flow. I can’t do anything to stop them. “Yes,” I reply, nodding fiercely.

  A split second later I’m in his arms, kneeling there on the deck with him, Bailey barking away beside us as if trying to announce this happy occasion to the world.

  We kiss. It’s deep and long, a kiss of commitment.

  Asher pulls back and takes the ring, a beautiful rose-colored diamond set in a swirl of pave-set stones.

  “Asher…”

  He places a finger on my lips. “There are no words to express the depth of my love for you, Willow. I want you to know that. I want you to know that whatever happens, I want to face it together, forever—you and me, two silly kids who somehow found each other in this crazy world.”

  “And all because you flipped a Honda,” I laugh, tears dripping from my chin, doing my best to sniff back more and turning into a total mess in the process.

  “See?” he says. “I told you it was a good idea.”

  I wipe the tears away. “You know what else would be a good idea?”

  He straightens. “Do tell.”

  I bring my lips to his ear. “A double play.”

  I can sense him smiling, picture his cock getting hard at my words. “How about a grand slam?”

  “Only if you don’t hit and run. Then again, maybe we shouldn’t. You’ve got a game tomorrow.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he says.

  “What do you mean?”

  He looks at me, blue eyes infinite. “Game or no game, I’ve already won.”

  EPILOGUE II

  FIVE YEARS ON

  “You’re the woo-ser, Momma!”

  Our three-year-old, Ruth, is riding Bailey like a horse, one hand holding her under the throat, the other oscillating wildly.

  “Yep, Mommy’s the loser,” I repeat, spinning my finger in the air, sprawled out on our bed.

  I’ve just arrived home from a twelve-hour shift. I don’t have the energy to stand, let alone chase after Ms. Mischief here, adorable as she is.

  Asher jumps into the room, crouching and sweeping Ruth up into his arms. “What’s going on in here, huh?”

  He tosses Ruth into the pillows and lies beside me, hand on my thigh.

  I pinch my scrubs together. “Not exactly sexy, I know.”

  His hand moves higher. “I beg to differ. How was work?”

  “Hectic,” I reply, and it’s true. I had no idea when I started my residency at Lower Manhattan Hospital what this job would entail, or how long I would last in the pressure-cooker environment of the ER. But two years later, I’m still going strong. It was a bus crash today. It might be a factory accident tomorrow, a brawl, a shooting—it sounds morbid, but it’s exciting not knowing what you’re going to show up to, and I’m helping people. I’m on the front line.

  Ruth’s jumping on the bed, giggling in that pure, life-affirming way only toddlers know how. I used to think Asher and I made the most beautiful sounds in the world.

  I was wrong.

  That’s the thing. Being parents has changed our entire world. There’s an extra human we have to care for, one who’s just as wild and whimsical as we are. Asher could be celebrating with the other Yankees in the Bahamas. After all, this is their first World Championship win since ’09 , but no, he’s here, and he wants to be. He wants to be with us.

  He really stepped up to the plate during my pregnancy—even when, 10cm dilated, I told the midwife my ‘factory was closed,’ that I was going home. He stayed by my side through it all, cheering me on like the whole thing was a ballgame. I told him he should try pooping out a giant baseball some time, see how he’d cheer then.

  But he is everything to me, my Asher. I thought the love we had was enough, but Ruth’s arrival proves it is limitless. We both changed once, and we’ve both changed again to adapt to this new chapter of our lives, but the commitment we made stands: we can face anything together.

  Coach Harris’s death hit Asher hard, as did the news of Leon’s arrest, but we got through it. Our love is a rarity. Ruth is a shining example of that. Every day I think I can’t possibly love her more, love him more, but I surprise myself.

  I hope I always do.

  Asher’s the father I knew he would be. I think deep down he’s trying to atone for his own father’s shortcomings, but he has nothing to worry about. He proved how much he loved kids when we worked at the home, even sent the center a million-dollar donation last fall. But you don’t love any child as much as your own. Seeing them together, tumbling and laughing, makes my heart skip a beat every time.

  Ruth collapses on top of me, snuggling into my chest. “I wub you, Momma.”

  “You too, baby girl,” I reply, kissing her on the cheek.

  I look sideways at Asher. “What do you think about doing this all again?”

  He lifts himself onto one elbow, beaming. “Batter up.”

  ###

  Sign up to my exclusive VIP newsletter and receive a FREE copy of my best-selling, full-length novel Burned: A Bad Boy Romance, plus special offers, ARCs, bonus material and more. Click here!

  If you enjoyed this book, please leave a short review to help others. It only takes a moment and really means the world to me. Your opinion matters.

  Follow my Author Central page

  About Teagan Kade:

  Teagan Kade thinks talking about yourself in the third person is silly, just like her collection of snow globes and rare manga. When she’s not being silly, she’s hanging out with her own Brock and two children in the south of Australia, dreaming of new characters and torturous ways they can get themselves into trouble. Teagan loves hearing from her readers, all of whom are as dear to her heart as salted caramel cookies. Shoot her an email at: teagankadeauthor@gmail.com. She doesn’t bite.

  Read on for Dirty Brawler!

  Also by Teagan Kade:

  Drilled: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  He’s the gridiron god with magic hands… And fingers, and mouth, and tongue.

  Chance ‘Gunner’ Adams –- quarterback, superstar womanizer, and panty slayer extraordinaire. He wants me. He wants me bad, but I’m not about to become another notch on his girthy bedpost. I came to Los Angeles to get away from my past, to start fresh. I don’t need trouble, especially the muscly, abs-of-marble kind.

  The problem? As team masseuse it’s my job to get hands on with this as*hole. I’ll be working on every hard, intimate area of his body. But if he thinks he can treat me like any other girl who stirs his pants, he’s wrong. After all, I’m a professional… right?

  We both want a happy ending, but sooner or later my past will catch up with me, and the Mob’s not big on mercy. I need more than a smart mouth. I need a savior -- one whose talent for mayhem doesn’t end when the fourth quarter’s over. For once in my life, I need someone who knows how to play dirty.

  Striker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  She’s the perfect score. I’m a dirty player. It’s complicated.

  JENSEN

  Scarlet's always been a stunner. There was a time we could have been together, but then came the soccer, the fans, the fame... I lost her to my twin brother, Josh.

  But Josh is a cheating
bastard. I can't stand by and watch Scarlet suffer, not when she should’ve been mine all along.

  SCARLET

  I've been dating Josh for years. I've tried to steer clear of his twin brother, Jensen, but I’ve always felt a pull towards him, a pull I have to resist.

  But when Josh betrays me, Jensen’s arms are suddenly wide open. It would be so easy…

  My heart’s torn—I just don’t know in which direction.

  Slammed: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  My purity ring was perfectly fine until Nate ‘King’ Compton showed up.

  The star recruit of the Panthers, inked up and out of control—He’s the campus troublemaker I know I should avoid, but I can’t. Problem is, I’ve been given the ‘privilege’ of improving his GPA… provided I can find a brain in all that muscle.

  I don’t do bad boys. I do order and control, and he’s chaos. He’s the antithesis of my perfect princess world in every way. Still, there’s something deeper under those Caribbean eyes and cut body, a darkness we both share. I’m going to get to the bottom of it if it kills me, and given the way my heart hammers out of my chest every time he’s around, it just might.

  Game on.

  Throttle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  I only know one position—on top.

  ANDY

  I do whatever it takes to win. That’s why I’m a Formula One champion. And I’m going for the prize again this year, no matter what my team says. But I’ll play their game—so long as it benefits me.

  Now there’s a beautiful woman traveling with me to make sure I wear the team sponsor’s outfits and smile at all the right moments. I’m going to make Sara smile, all right. But not about what I’m wearing.

  In fact, clothes won’t be involved at all.

  SARA

  Working PR for a fashion house and traveling the world? I’m not complaining. Even if it means putting up with a womanizer like Andy.

  Yes, he’s sexy as hell. But I’m nothing to him—just another score, someone to warm his sheets for a night and then be forgotten. He’s going to learn I’m not that easy.

  At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  Royally Wrong: A British Bad Boy Romance

  Fifth in line to the throne. Off the rails. Drop dead-freakin’-gorgeous.

  I should never have taken this assignment. Prince Panty-Dropper Spencer and his ‘Big Ben’ are too far gone. Even my journalistic wonders aren’t enough to pull him from the public blacklist. He’s a playboy, an arrogant, cocky as*hole in the extreme and the kind of overt man candy that goes against every one of my golden rules.

  But I want him all the same, crave his cursed touch. I won’t have a job to go back to if I leave empty-handed, which means we’re going to have to get real close, access all areas. He’s a prick, yes, but I can’t stop thinking about his hard muscles, his slack smile, the complete confidence he has in himself. He might be Britain’s biggest player, but if he wants me, he’s damn well going to have to work for it.

  London’s calling alright. Question is, can I handle what’s on the line?

  Dirty Brawler: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  Teagan Kade

  August Dimuro

  * * * * *

  Published by Teagan Kade

  Edited by Sennah Tate

  Copyright © 2016 by Teagan Kade & August Dimuro

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  LET ME HOOK YOU UP!

  Signup to the newsletter for ARCs, the latest news, freebies and date releases for new and exciting titles from Teagan Kade: http://eepurl.com/bg2MAn

  DEDICATION

  To Dane. Keep the hits coming, big fella.

  Chapter One

  Shaun

  All I wanted was to relax. It had been a long week, and my coach, Hammer, pushed me hard. Of course, there was a reason his nickname was Hammer. He knew how to get under my skin and bully me into getting what he wanted out in the ring. He’d tell me I’d gone soft. Too much booze and not enough sleep due to my ‘extracurricular’ activities.

  But seriously, what else was a pro athlete supposed to do in his down time? I sure as fuck wasn’t going to take up knitting.

  Meeting up with Jake and a couple of my other buddies sounded like a fair enough compromise. Like a dutiful son, I promised Hammer I wouldn’t stay out too late. There was an upcoming fight that would likely get a lot of press, and I wanted to be in top form. It would be my first big fight since Rio, and the pressure was on.

  As I entered the bar, I spotted Jake at the long bench taking up the back half of the room talking to a pretty redhead. I wasn’t interested in female company tonight, but that wouldn’t stop any number of women from trying to get my attention. I felt the stares even as I made my way over to my friend. It’s been like that ever since the Olympics. I’d gotten used to it and wasn’t surprised when I saw several cell phones turned toward me.

  The stares I could handle, but the constant recording and dissemination of every other aspect of my life was something I didn’t think I would ever get used to. Or be okay with.

  I knew that by the time I got to Jake my picture would be splashed across Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook feeds worldwide. Nigel told me I should be happy somebody still gave a shit who I was at all. It was a classic case of ‘what have you done for me lately,’ and he never missed an opportunity to tell me my sponsors were getting restless. Almost a year since I took home the gold, and I was acutely aware my star didn’t shine quite as brightly anymore.

  It was too bad all the press I seemed to get these days had nothing to do with how good I was with my hands in the ring. Not at all. The paparazzi seemed far more interested in the bar brawls and the string of hook-ups with nameless, faceless women—another reason I usually kept a low profile these days.

  “Shaun!” Jake caught sight of me. He slapped me on the shoulder, but his eyes never left the redhead’s ample chest.

  “See? I told you I knew him,” he told her. “Shaun Nichols. Olympic gold medalist and my high-school buddy. God, we used to get up to some shit when we were kids. Once I was grounded for a whole month because I took the blame for one of Shaun’s infamous pranks.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes. The pranks we played were never my idea. That said, I had gotten in my fair share of trouble back then. My parents were delighted when I started to spend more time at the gym than running around with the boys. It was more than annoying how some of my friends like Jake used our friendship to get into women’s pants. The sad thing was, it worked.

  “I’m Sheryl,” the redhead said, extending her hand to me even as she pushed her chest upward in my direction. I had zero interest in Sheryl, but I was a red-blooded man. She had a nice rack, but given the plunging neckline of her dress, it was a definite possibility her tits might fall out before the evening was over. No doubt Jake would be more than happy to catch them.

  “Nice to meet you, Sheryl,” I said, shaking her hand and averting my eyes from her cleavage. I turned to Jake. “I called ahead and got us one of the VIP tables. The rest of the guys must be running late.”

  “That’s my superstar,” Jake said, nodding his head, turning his attention back to the fire crotch. “You wanna go VIP, sweetheart?”

  “Sure,” she said, a coy tone
even as she took a sip off her cocktail. The way she used her tongue to play with the straw as she batted her eyelashes in my direction told me that Sheryl had already lost interest in Jake. She had a new target. Poor fucker. But I had no interest in Sheryl.

  “Boys only, tonight,” I said to her. “Maybe next time.”

  Sheryl’s cherry red lips curled in a pout, but Jake caught my warning glance and shrugged. “My mistake, baby. Boys night, sorry.”

  I started to lead the way toward the other side of the bar. Before the Olympics, I was a regular and I knew the owners. When I did decide to pull my head out of the sand, I liked being in familiar places because I felt it was easier to control a situation if it went south. The normality was welcome, too. But it was Friday night. The place was packed. The push of bodies all around immediately put me on guard. I was a boxer. I didn’t like anyone being up in my personal space unless I said so.

  When the first flash of light went off in front of me, I felt my stomach twist. “Fuck,” I grumbled. People weren’t even subtle anymore.

  “Comes with the territory, my friend,” Jake said, slapping me on the shoulder.

  I put my hand up as another flash went off. Now we were starting to attract attention. The low rumble of the crowd started to grow and my fists clenched on instinct.

  It’s that boxer! What’s his name again?

  Shaun! It’s Shaun Nichols!

  OMG. He’s so hot. I’d totally fuck him.

  The brief bits of conversation I picked up from the crowd around me made me want to turn around and run right out the fucking door. There was too much press with my name attached to it lately, and none of it was good. I had been hoping for a quiet night, just a few beers out with my boys.