“Seriously?” she asked him, reaching out to touch the diamond.
“Like you didn’t know this was coming,” he replied.
“I didn’t.” A tear trickled over the edge of her eyelid. The tear wasn’t the bad kind. He’d learned all of the varieties of Sadie tears, and this one was because she was happy.
“It’s a yes or no question.” Roman looked pointedly at the ring.
“All my noes turn to yeses when I’m with you,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him.
“Is that a bad thing?” he whispered back against her mouth. Because truth be told, all his noes turned to yeses around her, too.
Another tear fell over her eyelashes and down along the apple of her cheek. “Not at all. It’s just that…”
“What?” he asked.
“Are you sure?” she asked, little lines forming between her eyebrows.
“I am.” He pulled the ring from the silk lining. “Are you?”
“Yes.” She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. “Yes, I am so sure.”
“Is that a yes to the marriage proposal then?” This seemed like one of those moments where clarity and the fine print mattered.
She nodded. “Yes. Absolutely, Rome.”
He’d believed she would say yes, but hearing the words tossed him on a wave of relief.
She parted her lips, reached for his shirt, and gripped the fabric over his pecs. “Two kids. A girl and a boy. Neither of them named after your grandmother.”
Oh yeah, he could live with that. Her hands traced up and over his shoulders to cup the back of his neck and draw him to her.
Her breasts heaved against his chest as her breathing quickened. “I love you, Rome.”
He kissed her like it was the first time and the last time and every time in between.
There were a million gazillion and one reasons why he loved Sadie Howard, but the fact she agreed to spend her life with him? That was the reason he loved her most.
There’s more Roman & Sadie!
* * *
A special bonus scene Christina created
especially for newsletter subscribers!
* * *
Claim the bonus scene at:
ChristinaHovland.com/do-me-bonus
Acknowledgments
Mad props to my husband Steve and my kids for being amazing as I retreated to our basement to draft this novel. Everyone survived, yay!
As always, thanks to my mom, Shirley, and my sister, Sereneti. Your love of my books makes writing them worthwhile.
My critique partners and first line beta readers are the best in the business. Thank you to J. Bengtsson, Karie Byerly, A.Y. Chao, Dylann Crush, Patricia Dane, C.R. Grissom, Jody Holford, Diane Holiday, Sarah Morgenthaler, Deb Smolha, Renee Ann Miller, and Becky Wesnidge.
Thanks always to the fantabulous Dr. Victoria for seeing to the medical needs of my fictional characters.
Thanks to my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, whose belief in me and my stories means more than she can ever know. Having her at my back means I get to focus on the words while she deals with the details. I’m blessed she took me on.
Holly Ingraham, as always, is the most ahhhhhmazing editor. This book is here because of her—make no mistake. (Y’all I was a hot mess when I handed it to her and begged for help.)
Tamara Beard, my copy editor and first-line proofreader from Wrapped Up in Writing is so wonderful to work with. This story required her to massage deadlines as I reworked the story again and again when the perfectionist in me took over. Tamara deserves all the cookies for her patience.
Shasta Schafer, as always, is my friend and my final proofreader. She’s brilliant and has the most gorgeous soul you’ll ever have the privilege of knowing.
Courtney, Dallas, Leeann, Lindsay, Sarah—thank you for always being online with a listening ear for me. I lub you!
Kiele, you know why you’ll always be my person. Thank you for being there for me.
And, it means more than anything that I get to thank YOU, the reader. I get to live my dream because you buy my books. Thank you. Thank you. *muah*
Also by Christina Hovland
The Mile High Matched Series
Rock Hard Cowboy, Mile High Matched, Book .5
Going Down on One Knee, Mile High Matched, Book 1
Blow Me Away, Mile High Matched, Book 2
Take It Off the Menu, Mile High Matched, Book 3
Do Me a Favor, Mile High Matched, Book 4
Ball Sacked, Mile High Matched, Book 4.5 (Short Story—October 2020)
Get Off the Stage, Mile High Matched, Book 5 (Coming in 2021)
* * *
From Entangled Publishing
The Honeymoon Trap
About the Author
Christina Hovland lives her own version of a fairy tale—an artisan chocolatier by day and romance writer by night. Born in Colorado, Christina received a degree in journalism from Colorado State University. Before opening her chocolate company, Christina’s career spanned from the television newsroom to managing an award-winning public relations firm. She’s a recovering overachiever and perfectionist with a love of cupcakes and dinner she doesn’t have to cook herself. A 2017 Golden Heart® finalist, she lives in Colorado with her first-boyfriend-turned-husband, four children, and the sweetest dog around.
* * *
ChristinaHovland.com
Twitter.com/HovlandWrites
Facebook.com/HovlandWrites
Instagram.com/HovlandWrites
Goodreads.com/HovlandWrites
bookbub.com/profile/christina-hovland
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Going Down on One Knee!
Going Down on One Knee
Number-crunching Velma Johnson's perfectly planned life is right on course.
That's a lie. Sure, she's got the lucrative job. She's got the posh apartment. But her sister nabbed Velma's Mr. Right. There has to be a man out there for Velma. Hopefully, one who's hunky, wears pressed suits, and has a diversified financial portfolio. He'll be exactly like, well... her sister's new fiancé.
Badass biker Brek Montgomery blazes a trail across the country, managing Dimefront, one of the biggest rock bands of his generation. With the band on hiatus, Brek rolls into Denver to pay a quick visit to his family and friends. But when Brek's sister suddenly gets put on bed rest, she convinces Brek to take over her wedding planning business for the duration of her pregnancy.
Staying in Denver and dealing with bridezillas was not what Brek had in mind when he passed through town, but there is one particular maid-of-honor who might make his stay worthwhile.
Velma finds herself strangely attracted to the man planning her sister's wedding. Problem is, he ticks none of the boxes on her well-crafted list. Brek is rough around the edges, he cusses, and doesn't even have a 401(k). But trying something crazy might get her out of the rut of her dating life--so long as she lays down boundaries up front and sticks to her plan...
Going Down on One Knee
Chapter One, The Countdown Begins
Three words. Three. Little. Words. Nothing important.
Okay, so the three words were important. Massive, really.
“Congratulations, you two,” Velma Johnson rehearsed aloud to the vase of a dozen yellow roses gripped in her arms. With a reaffirming gulp of Denver’s crisp spring air, she hustled through the open-air parking garage to the security door of her apartment building.
Her sister, Claire, had big news. To be exact, Claire and her boyfriend, Dean, had big news. Velma had a feeling she knew exactly what their news would be—they were moving in together. The next step in their relationship. Tension in Velma’s neck strung tight at the thought.
A successful career and a posh apartment she could eventually rent out as an investment were steps one and two of Velma’s elaborate five-year plan. She had ticked both those boxes. Dean, three kids, and moving to a two-story house just outside of Denver had
been steps three through seven.
Not anymore. Now, her sister was moving in with the man Velma had crushed on for years. The one Velma measured all others against. The one she sang Prince and Madonna songs with at the office.
Yes, they were moving in together. That’s why Claire had called yesterday and asked to take her to dinner. Velma had insisted they meet at her place instead. Her invitation had nothing to do with the fact she liked having Dean visit her apartment—even if he was with her sister. She’d offered because it made sense they’d want a private location for their big reveal. And when the announcement came that they’d be embracing that next relationship milestone…well, being on her home turf sounded pretty darn appealing.
Just as she reached the security door, the sound of a motorcycle that clearly had no muffler cut through her thoughts. She turned. The bike pulled up next to her car—into the parking spot meant for her guests. A super-muscled, badass-mother-trucker of a biker swung his leg over the side of the motorcycle and stood.
Her heart stopped with a thunk.
Vin-Diesel-biker-dude pulled off his helmet and—sweet mother of Mary, had the temperature jumped by ten degrees? She got the picture: he rode a motorcycle, hit the gym twice a day. The type she avoided because she did not do badass. She preferred the suspenders-and-slacks kind of man. Except, at that moment, she debated how important that preference really was to her.
Focus, Velma. Head held high, she approached him. “Excuse me? Sir? You can’t park there.”
He frowned at the number marking the spot.
Normally she wouldn’t mind sharing the space, but with Claire, Dean, and his friend Brek coming to dinner, she needed both of her parking spaces.
This man was obviously not Dean’s friend. Dean’s friends were all buttoned-up, suit-wearing, Wednesday-afternoon golfers. She was nearly certain.
The black leather jacket and jeans ripped at this guy’s knees looked horribly out of place next to her Prius. His longish, rock-’n’-roll blond hair was nicer than hers (although his could use a trim). She didn’t even mind the dragon tattoo creeping around the side of his neck or the layer of mud coating his motorcycle boots. Everything about the man screamed masculine.
Velma shifted the heavy vase in her grip. Fudge. Which of her neighbors was letting their guests use her spot this time?
“No, see, that’s the spot for my apartment.” Oh, how she wanted to rub at the headache pulsing at her forehead. She didn’t have time for this. Not today. “I’m sorry, it’s just that my sister and her boyfriend and his friend are coming for dinner because my sister has big news. And while I have no idea what that news is, it’s important to her. So that makes it important to me. Which is why I put on a pork roast, bought roses, and got out my crystal wine goblets. That’s what you do when your sister has big news, you know? Never mind she’s practically living my five-year plan without even trying, and I’m over here without even a boyfriend. That was not part of my plan. At this point, I should be at least six months into dating my future husband.”
Oh God. She was rambling. And he was staring at her with a half grin that made her skin flush. Seriously, the way the man smiled should be outlawed.
She ducked her head. “Anyway, I have company coming and I kind of need my spot.”
“Five-year plan?” he asked. As though that was the important part of what she’d just spit out.
This is how one makes an absolute idiot of oneself. “You know what? It’s fine. You can stay right there. Don’t worry about it.” She shifted the flowers again and turned on her heel.
See? People said she was inflexible, but here she was, absolutely rolling with it. She smiled at her flexibility.
“One sec,” Motorcycle Dude called. “This is the number they gave me.”
She paused midstride and turned around.
He ticked his head to the side. “Velvet?”
Oh dear. She could easily be swayed by the gravelly way he said her name. Well, the nickname her family called her—despite her repeated cease-and-desist requests.
“Um, yes?” She gripped the glass vase harder with her clammy hands.
“Brek.” He looked at her like she should know him and pointed to his chest. “Dean’s friend.”
Velma stared.
Oh.
This was Brek? She’d expected him to wear khaki pants and drive a Camry. He reached into one of his saddlebags and held up a six-pack of Coors and a four-pack of Bartles & Jaymes fuzzy-navel-flavored wine coolers. “Claire asked me to bring the beer and wine, since I’m crashing your party.”
Wine coolers? She stared some more. Be flexible, she reminded herself. Flexible. Flexible. Flexible.
“Great. Fuzzy navel pairs perfectly with pork roast.” Cheeks burning and arms full, she managed to open the security door.
“So, you’re Claire’s sister?” His lazy gaze trailed over her.
“The one and only.”
His deep-blue eyes rivaled the color of the razzleberry lollipops she loved. The kind that made her mouth water just thinking about them and… Focus, Velma.
“Can I come up, Velvet?” His deep voice held a subtle hint of roughness.
“Velma,” she corrected. “You’re a little early. I’m so behind. Normally, I’m much more together.”
“I can come back later.” Brek’s eyes softened, totally contrary to his outer badassery.
“No. I am officially the queen of flexibility. It’s not a problem.”
He did the darn grin thing again. She silently instructed her body to ignore it.
“Queen of flexibility. That ought to be interesting,” he mumbled mostly to himself but loud enough for her to hear. He stepped next to her, balanced the beer and “wine” against the impressive muscles of one arm, and slid the vase she carried into the crook of his other arm.
“Thanks.” This time it was her turn to mumble.
Without looking back, she led him up the stairs to her apartment. Another glance his way, and she’d probably trip face-first into the wall or something equally embarrassing. To prevent herself from taking another peek, she focused on sticking the key in the keyhole of her apartment door as though it took every ounce of her concentration.
There. The door swung open. He stepped through the doorframe, close enough for her to catch the scent of leather and Irish Spring soap. Close enough for her to reach out and touch the stubble running over his jawline. Close enough for her to—she shook her head to dislodge the abrupt light-headedness.
“This place is huge.” With a long whistle, he set everything down on her dining room table.
Vaulted ceilings, open concept, white walls and sofa, with pops of jewel tones in her carefully selected décor; it must all appear so unnecessary to a guy like him. But these were her things, proof of everything she had worked so hard to achieve.
Brek walked into the kitchen and glanced to the slow cooker on the counter. “This smells amazing, Velvet. You a chef?”
“Velma,” she corrected him again, slipping on an apron with the words Domestic Diva embroidered on the front. “And no, I just like to cook.”
Velma took in the dinner she’d spent the afternoon planning and preparing. Vegetables had been roasted in the oven, and a chocolate cream pie was setting in the fridge. Not the pudding kind, either. A real, honest-to-goodness, made-from-whipping-cream-and-two-kinds-of-chocolate pie. She hoped she could eat those leftovers while she binge-watched Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals later.
“Then what do you do, Velma?” His emphasis on the last syllable made her wish her name wasn’t so frumpy.
“For employment?” she asked.
“Yeah…or pleasure.”
The expression on his face and the way he drew out the word “pleasure” made her toes curl in her sandals.
Right, employment. He’d asked about her work.
“I’m a financial planner,” she replied.
Brek rubbed his hands together. “Like Dean?”
“Yup.”
She and Dean had worked together for years. “Our offices are across the hall from each other. That’s how Dean met Claire.” Claire had come to visit Velma at work and had wandered into Dean’s office by accident.
That was the day Velma’s dream of becoming Mrs. Dean Stuart died—all because she had waited too long to make her move and lost her chance.
Mr. Right had met her sister and they’d ended up together, making kissy faces during Thanksgiving dinner.
Actually, they never made kissy faces. The two of them were much too classy for that.
Brek leaned his hip against her granite countertop and crossed his leather-covered arms. “No idea what Dean does at his job, either, but I’m sure you’re both fantastic at it.”
“We help people with their financial portfolios. Annuities, estate plans, investment management, things like that. What about you?”
“I’m in the music industry.” He snagged one of the crystal wine goblets she’d put out earlier and swaggered toward her.
Her stomach did a loop the loop. The swagger affected her more than expected. “You play in a band?”
“Nah. I play guitar, but not professionally. I manage a band.” He popped the top off a wine cooler and poured it all the way to the tippy top of the glass. Then he edged inside her personal-space bubble and handed her the glass.
“Thanks.” Normally, she didn’t drink much—especially on Sundays. Monday marked the start of the week, with new chances and opportunities. She preferred to start it at her best, not hung over with a headache.
Then again, tonight was the night of change. Big-news change. My-sister’s-moving-in-with-my-dream-man change. So Velma would have a wine cooler—no use in wasting it when Brek had already poured it—and ignore her attraction to Dean. Steps to a new life filled with…finding a new man who was as perfect for her as Dean was. Baby steps and all that.
Do Me a Favor: A second chance, hilarious rom com! (Mile High Matched Book 4) Page 26