Standalone: Yes
Publication
Date: September 12, 2018
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Sports Romance, Women’s Fiction
Purchase: www.tiawithapen.com
The Breakup Plan.
A best friends to enemies romance.
He ruined her wedding day and he'll do it again until she's his.
Blurb:
A man without a plan is a shell without purpose.
Which is why I sat down almost nine years ago and put pen to paper mapping out my ten-year plan. I meant business. Everything that could set me up for a lifetime of joy had to go down on the list, and every day I worked my ass off to fulfill it.
Open my own sports agency. Check.
Earn first million by my thirtieth birthday. I did that a week before I turned 26.
Negotiate the most lucrative contract in Major League’s history. Did that, too. Then went and broke my own record. (Thanks big bro!)
I could go on, but this isn’t about bragging. It’s me admitting in the midst of drafting something that helps shape and mold much of my success, I made a costly mistake.
One day I realized all those entries with corresponding checkmarks are pointless if I never factored into the equation the most important goal of all. Avery.
Perhaps way back then I wasn’t ready to see how much my best friend of fifteen years deserved that number one spot in my life. Maybe I was blind since the whole settle down and get married scenario wasn’t my thing since, well, forever. But now that I’m aware of the role I need her to fill in my life, there’s no such thing as letting go until I can convince her to be mine.
Considering she’s about to marry someone else does make winning her heart a little bit dicey. But if there’s anything you should ever know about me is that I always play to win. And losing Avery is non-negotiable.
Excerpt
She sits down on a padded wicker
loveseat. Instead of going to a chair, I sit beside her. Close enough that her
thigh brushes against mine a few times. Avery shifts to balance her plate and
scoot away a few inches, but my proximity leaves little room for her to go.
“Tell me about the email.”
Her feigned interest in the food on her
plate distracts me from the conversation. Avery was once a self-declared
foodie, but this new version of her makes no sense, and coincides with him.
I slice a piece of sausage and drop it
on her plate between the quinoa and blueberries she must have requested but has
understandably lost interest in. “Try it.”
“Drew.”
Forking two of the pieces off my plate
for myself, I chew and nudge her again. “Eat.”
“Stop talking with food in your mouth.”
When she rolls her eyes and smirks at me, I know I’m making progress.
“I will if you eat that,” I say,
pointing my fork at the sausage. Chef Laurel flew selections like this organic
sage chicken sausage in just for Avery. He would likely grunt if I wanted
something from the Whole Foods around the corner from my house. And I’m the one
paying him. She has to know it. I know I do. Chef Laurel is wrapped around this
woman’s finger, almost as tightly coiled around it as me.
Nah, there’s no way she could have
anyone else as twisted around that pinky as tight as me.
Avery just has this effect on people.
Even random strangers love doing things for her, because she’s always so giving
of herself, and cares without expectation. Avery also adores Chef Laurel, and
when he prepared a meal once with this sausage from whatever city we were
visiting at the time, Avery made it known for an entire week straight how much
she loved it. To thank her for appreciating his food, Chef often sends for it
just because he knows how much she enjoys it.
And like the voice of temptation, it’s
my duty to remind her of these things. “You know you want to.”
The corner of her mouth twitches until
she graces me with a sweet smile. “I do.”
“I know. Here.” I add a full link and
one of my pancakes to her plate.
To my surprise, she doesn’t protest
anymore. I do catch a moment of remorse after her first bite, but by the second
one, she’s forgotten all about the pile of quinoa on her plate.
“Mmmmm.”
This is where things get uncomfortable.
Not like it was beachside yesterday—I’m talking about the way she just woke up
my penis with that moan, like she did the other night. It doesn’t help that her
head rolls back, as she has no shame indulging in what is obviously a rare
moment of ecstasy—hair falling back over the sofa cushion, that sensual neck of
hers daring me to move closer for a nip, and those brown eyes damn near rolling
back into yesterday do me all the way in.
So how do I handle it? I take some more
food off my plate and give it to her. You think I’m going to pass up the chance
at watching someone as beautiful as Avery damn near have an orgasm over some
buttermilk pancakes and maple syrup?
Avery takes another bite of my pancake
and follows it with a quick swipe of the tongue to catch a drop of syrup
hanging on to the edge of her bottom lip.
“What did the email say?”
Huh? I blink to shake the trance she
put me in. “Oh. Donovan approved the budget and next month’s shooting
schedule.”
Whatever I said instantly robs Avery of
the blissful expression on her face that I was enjoying with her. I’ve heard
about sexual encounters that fizzle with a quickness, so I’m guessing this
would be the food version.
“What?” I ask.
Setting her plate down on the table in
front of us, Avery starts to move in careful, measured ways. “Next month?”
“Why is that a surprise? You’re the one
that drafted the schedule.”
She nods, and when she bites on her
lip, I know whatever she’s about to say is not going to be good. “About that.”
Leveling my eyes on her, I put my plate
down then drop an arm across the back of the sofa. “Avery.”
“I was hoping we could discuss this
when we got back to Philly, but I guess I might as well tell you now.”
“Tell me what, Avery? Just spill it.”
Author Bio:
Tia Kelly is the author of contemporary and women's fiction. She is known for her candid way of capturing life, love and relationships… one story at a time.Author Website: www.tiawithapen.com
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Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Tia-Kelly/e/B00B7AKXGI/
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