Title: The Final Play Author: Amie Knight Genre: Contemporary Sports Romance
As a professional linebacker, I lived and breathed football.
The only thing I loved as much as the game was my twin brother, Max, who kept me almost as busy cleaning up his messes.
The most recent of which landed him behind bars.
So, it shouldn’t have surprised me when a beautiful woman showed up on my doorstep, claiming to be pregnant with Max’s baby.
Glory was unexpected, infuriating, and flat-out crazy most of the time.
But no matter how hard I tried to deny it, that tiny spitfire slammed into my boring life with the strength of a Category 5 hurricane, blowing through my defenses until she’d carved her name in my heart—permanently.
I feared we would never work. She was a single mom, my brother’s ex, and one more chance for me to fail yet another person I loved.
But if football was my church, then Glory was my heaven.
He was the best man I’d ever known and I couldn’t have him. I probably didn’t deserve him, anyway.
Tears flooded my eyes and I paid the cashier as fast as possible before practically running behind the buggy to get to my car. I loaded the groceries, tears trailing my cheeks.
I didn’t even bother to wipe them away. This whole situation was sad. It deserved my tears. Every damn one of them. Because Mason and Glory could never be.
It would be weird and wrong. What the hell would we even tell people? How would we explain? And how would Max feel? I had a feeling it wasn’t good at all.
I climbed into the front seat of my car and held on to my steering wheel for dear life. And sobbed. And then when I was done sobbing , I beat the shit out of that steering wheel and then the dashboard.
Because life wasn’t fair. It just fucking wasn’t and again and again it just kept throwing me punch after punch. How long was I supposed to still stay standing? I felt like this might be the final punch and it was a knockout. Because I had a feeling that Mason Stark was my person. And I couldn’t even have him.
Amie Knight has been a reader for as long as she could remember and a romance lover since she could get her hands on her momma’s books. A dedicated wife and mother with a love of music and makeup, she won’t ever be seen leaving the house without her eyebrows and eyelashes done just right. When she isn’t reading and writing, you can catch her jamming out in the car with her two kids to ’90s R&B, country, and showtunes. Amie draws inspiration from her childhood in Columbia, South Carolina, and can’t imagine living anywhere other than the South.
Jake I’ve been searching for Mrs. Plaid Man my whole life, but I always miss out. I’m the Big Slick, so close to winning, but another hand always wins. I’m too slow to react. That’s how I missed out on a relationship with Lindsey, and part of the reason I had to move to this small town. But now I think I’ve finally found her. But she doesn’t seem to remember me, no matter how many times I talk to her. And let me tell you, there’s only so many times a man can get his ass kicked by a woman.
I’m a stay at home mom that loves to read. Some of my favorite titles are Pride and Prejudice, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Horatio Hornblower. I started writing when I was trying to come up with suggestions on ways I could help bring in some extra money. I came up with the idea that I could donate plasma because you could earn an extra $500/month. My husband responded with, “No. Find something else. Write a blog. Write a book.” I didn’t think I had anything to share on blog that a thousand other mothers hadn’t already thought of. I decided to take his challenge seriously and sat down to write my first book, Jack. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed writing. From there, the stories continued to flow and I haven’t been able to stop. I hope my readers enjoy my books as much as I enjoy writing them. Between reading, writing, and taking care of three small kids, my days are quite full.
I was the winner—and the envy of many. What I didn’t realize is that I was a pawn in a game I’d already lost…
It isn’t every day a dying girl wins the chance to live. Ten years ago, I was that girl. The first winner of the vampire lottery. And my prize? A new life as a bloodsucker.
No one told me that winning the lottery would cost me everyone I loved. But I still have Dimitry—I only have Dimitry—the sexy, inscrutable, Russian vampire who saved me from certain death. My protector. For a hot minute, there was a spark between us until it fizzled to a barely glowing ember.
Now Dimitry and I have been summoned from Moscow to the politics and the cruelty of vampire-controlled Las Vegas right when the city is going to pot. I swore I would never return to a place I will only ever be a pawn, but the alternative is much worse. Deadly.
I’m nothing there. Small-fry. But maybe it’s time I changed that.
“If you’re not meeting gangsters, then where are you going?”
“To make some preparations.”
I wait, but apparently, that’s all I’m getting. “More, Dimitry. I need more words,” I tell him, with my eyes still closed and my head resting on the side of the Jacuzzi-style bath.
“For a new challenge. Perhaps some excitement.”
I prick up my ears. “Sounds interesting. What’s the catch?”
There must be one. It feels too much like Dimitry is tempting me into doing something I won’t like. He’s already noticed I’m bored. But here is safe. A little empty and meaningless, but safe. Nothing can take Dimitry away from me here.
“No catch. But there will be no more need for Russian lessons, for one.”
“You know full well I didn’t even make it through a week of those, never mind ten years. Now, what are you hiding? What preparations are you making?”
“For a trip filled with adventure. Perhaps you may receive some answers to questions I haven’t been able to answer over the years.”
That’s when every single alarm bell starts going off because he’s using terms he knows will grab and hold my attention. They’re all there: excitement, adventure, and the biggest hook to lure me—answers to questions.
He also sounds like he’s been reading fortune cookies. That or stealing the lines from some cryptic psychic with dangly earrings and a colorful scarf in her hair.
Maybe that’s where he’s been going on his errands: visiting psychics.
“You’re not telling me everything, Dimitry,” I say, in a voice filled with suspicion. “What are you hiding?”
“Since Russia bores you, perhaps it’s time we returned to the States.”
“I told you, I am not b—wait, what? What do you mean, return to the States?” My eyes snap open and I start to sit up before remembering at the last minute why that might not be such a good idea. Flashing Dimitry once is one time too many. Twice in one night might have him convinced I’m throwing myself at him. Again.
“Da.”
For a second, I meet his gaze, then I shake my head. “No. No, Dimitry. No. What’s the Russian for no again?”
“Net, zaychik.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why am I getting the sense you’re just calling me little rabbit in Russian?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Are you? Perhaps you’ve been in the bath too long.”
What my being in the bath has to do with anything distracts me for a second. But only for a second. Soon I’m glaring at him because it wouldn’t surprise me if distraction wasn’t his intention in the first place.
At any other time, I’d push him on this Russian word, but not now. Not after the bombshell he’s just thrown in my face. “I’m not going back there, Dimitry. It’s not happening.”
“Little rabbit…”
“Net. A thousand times net.”
His lips curve at what has to be the worst Russian to come out of a human mouth, ever. “Unfortunately, matters might mean that decision is soon taken out of our hands.”
Panic ignites in my belly because this is not happening. Not Vegas. Not with Dimitry. Not ever.
Eve lives in London. She writes steamy and suspenseful paranormal romances about heroines who grow into strong women, and the alpha heroes who love them.
If you want to receive updates on new releases and grab your free copy of ‘The Lottery’ (a prequel for the Bladed Princess series), you can join her mailing list here: www.evebale.com
