Read Rushing Amy: A Love and Football Novel Online
Authors: Julie Brannagh
“
No?
Is that so? Even that thing I do with my tongue?”
The doctor raced into the room, just in time to deliver the afterbirth. The baby was cleaned up, weighed, given his second Apgar, and returned to them.
A
MY KNEW THAT
her family would descend on the hospital any minute, but first Samantha edged through the doorway to her room.
“Come on in, Sam,” Amy called out to her.
“Are you sure?” Samantha tiptoed in.
“Of course I’m sure. Do you want to hold him?” Amy held her swaddled son up so Samantha could get a glimpse of him.
Matt got to his feet, crossed the room, and pulled his daughter into his arms.
“Mom and Grandma are in the waiting room,” Samantha explained. “Grandma told everyone on Twitter that she has a new grandson.”
“I’m glad you’re here, princess,” her dad told her. She edged closer to the side of the bed.
“It’s all over,” Amy explained. “Come here and sit next to me.”
The nurse looked on as Samantha perched on the mattress next to Amy. Amy held Jonathan out to her. “This is your new brother.” She got him settled into the crook of Samantha’s arm. He didn’t even open his eyes.
“He’s so little,” Samantha breathed.
“He’s bigger than you were when you were born,” Matt observed.
Samantha peered into her brother’s sleeping face. She kissed his cheek and wiped off the smear of pink lip gloss she’d left behind. He opened his eyes and silently regarded her. She opened her mouth, and closed it. She must have finally decided what to say.
“His name is Jonathan, right?”
“Yes. Yes, it is,” Amy said.
Samantha cuddled him close. “I’ve been waiting for you, Jonathan.”
Matt reached for Amy’s hand.
“I’m your sister, Samantha, but you can call me Sam,” she told him. “I can tell you all about Mom and Dad.” Jon’s lips moved into something approximating a smile, and Samantha turned to them with tears in her eyes. “He smiled at me!”
“Yes, honey, he did.”
She stuck one thumb inside his fist. “Look how teeny his fingernails are.”
Matt was around the bed like a shot. “Listen, princess, careful.” He helped her support Jon’s head. “You’re doing fine.”
“I was fine before,” she retorted, but the feigned impatience didn’t fool either Amy or Matt. Samantha had just fallen in love with her little brother.
“I’ll teach you how to play video games,” she said to him. “By the time you’re old enough, I can drive you to the store to get candy. We’re going to have so much fun together.”
The nurse approached one more time. “You know, Samantha, we have a little button we give out. You’re probably too old for this,” but she extended a powder-blue button reading “I’m the Big Sister” to Samantha. Samantha’s chin trembled, and she nodded quickly. “Would you like me to pin it on your t-shirt?”
“Yeah.” Samantha tried to roll her eyes and act bored, but she let out a long sigh. “Maybe I’ll get less homework or something.” She carefully transferred Jon back to Amy’s arms and told him, “I got you a present.” She dug through her backpack and produced a baby t-shirt that read,
I can’t even walk, and I already hate the Yankees.
“You’re not putting that on your brother,” her father told her.
“C’mon, Dad, it’s funny.” Of course, Matt melted into a warm puddle of protoplasm when he heard the word “Dad” from Samantha.
Jon made a gurgling sound, and Samantha looked elated.
“He likes me.”
“Of course he does,” Amy reassured her. “Go ask your mom and grandma if they want to come in here and see the baby.”
“Ask them if they could give us a few minutes, and we’ll be all set,” Matt said.
Samantha leaned over the bed, kissed Amy’s cheek, whispered, “Good job, new Mom,” and gave her dad a kiss, too. She darted out of the room.
In the meantime, Amy had a hungry boy on her hands.
“Would you like to try feeding him?” the nurse asked.
“Sure.”
Amy pulled her arm out of the hospital gown, propped Jonathan up in the crook of her elbow, and teased her nipple over his tiny mouth. The baby’s lips parted. It took a few tries, but he suckled Amy, and Matt wrapped his arms around both of them.
“He wanted some dinner,” Matt said. “He takes after his papa.”
Jonathan swallowed hungrily, and closed his eyes. One small fist rested on her breast. Matt kissed her one more time while they watched their son eat.
Amy had everything she would ever need. Well, she thought she had everything.
Samantha and Jon’s younger sister arrived a year later.
Can’t get enough of Julie Brannagh’s Love and Football series?
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Coming May 2014
Read on for a sneak peek!
Z
ACH
A
NDERSON WAS
in New York City again, and he wasn’t happy about it. He wasn’t big on crowds as a rule, except for the ones that spent Sunday afternoons six months a year cheering for him as he flattened yet another offensive lineman on his way to the guy’s quarterback. He also wasn’t big on having four people fussing over his hair, spraying him down with whatever it was that simulated sweat, and trying to convince him that nobody would ever know he was wearing bronzer in the resulting photos.
He was making eight figures for a national Under Armour campaign for two days’ work. He knew he shouldn’t bitch. The worst injury he might sustain here would be some kind of muscle pull from running away from the multiple women hanging out at the photo shoot who’d made it clear they’d be interested in spending more time with him.
He was all dolled up in UA’s latest. Of course, he typically didn’t wear workout clothes that were tailored and/or ironed before he pulled them on. The photo shoot was now in its second hour, and he was wondering how many damn pictures of him they actually needed.
“Gorgeous,” the photographer shouted to him. “Okay, Zach. I need pensive. Thoughtful. Sensitive.”
Zach shook his head briefly. “You’re shitting me.”
Zach’s agent Jason shoved himself off the back wall of the room and moved into Zach’s line of vision. Jason had been with him since Zach signed his first NFL contract. He was also a few years older than Zach, which came in handy. He took the long view in his professional and personal life, and encouraged Zach to do so as well.
“Come on, man. Think about the poor polar bears starving to death because they can’t find enough food at the North Pole. How about the NFL going to eighteen games in the regular season? If that’s not enough, Sports Illustrated’s discontinuing the swimsuit issue. That should make a grown man cry.” Even the photographer snorted at that last one. “You can do it.”
Eighteen games a season would piss Zach off more than anything else, but he gazed in the direction the photographer’s assistant indicated, thought about how long it would take him to get across town to the hotel when this was over, and listened to the camera’s rapid clicking once more.
“Are you sure you want to keep playing football?” the photographer called out. “The camera loves you.”
“Thanks,” Zach muttered. Shit. How embarrassing. If any of his four younger sisters were here right now, they’d be in hysterics.
C
AMERON
O
NDINE SMILED
into the camera for the last time today. “Thanks for watching. I’ll see you next week on
NFL Confidential
.” She waited till the floor director gave her the signal the camera was off and stood up to stretch. Today’s guest had been a twenty-five year old quarterback who’d just signed a five-year contract with Baltimore for seventy-five million dollars, fifty million guaranteed. His agent hovered off-camera but not close enough to prevent the guy in question from asking Cameron to accompany him to his hotel suite to “hook up.”
Cameron wished she were surprised about such invitations, but they happened with depressing frequency. The network wanted her to play up what she had to offer—fresh-faced, wholesome beauty, a body she worked ninety minutes a day to maintain, and a personality that proved she wasn’t just another dumb blonde. She loved her job, but she didn’t love the fact some of these guys thought sleeping with her was part of the deal her employers offered when she interviewed them.
The sound techs unclipped her lavalier microphone and the power pack in the waistband of her skirt. She waited till they walked away and gave Jake Eisen a brisk pat on his upper arm.
“I’m really flattered, but I have several appointments later today. I’m not going to be able to make it.” She didn’t add that she was a few years older than he was, she’d been married before, and above all, she wasn’t interested. “Thank you, though. I hope you’re enjoying the visit to New York.”
“I’d like it a lot more if we could get together, Cameron. How about tomorrow? I don’t go back to Baltimore till Saturday morning.” He gave her what she was sure he thought was a seductive grin. “I’ve had it for you since you signed with PSN. Make my dreams come true.”
She resisted the impulse to barf all over what had to be prototype Reebok shoes he was wearing. “That’s quite an offer, but no,” she said.
She reached out, briefly clasped his hand, shook once, and walked away. She heard the name he called her under his breath. It wouldn’t be the first time a guy called her that, and it sure wouldn’t be the last.
Cameron rushed down the hallway to her dressing room, peeled off the loaner clothes she wore for a taping, and washed the TV makeup off in record time. She applied makeup with a much lighter hand, added swingy silver chandelier earrings, and bent from the waist to run her fingers through the long, blonde, highlighted hair that cost a fortune to maintain. She flipped it back into the just-out-of-bed tousle the show’s hair person had spent forty-five minutes working on this morning. She stepped into black, strappy stilettos, a knee-length fuchsia floral sheath with a bow at the waist, and threw the items she needed into an evening bag: Cash, credit card, house keys, lip gloss, breath mints, and smart phone. She pulled a lightweight silk wrap around her shoulders.
A knock at the door announced her assistant, Kacee.
“Cameron, you need to be here at eight am tomorrow morning for hair and makeup. It’s the Zach Anderson interview.”
“Got it.” God give her strength. She could think of a thousand things she’d rather be doing than spending an hour with Zach Anderson tomorrow, or any other day. She gave Kacee a quick nod. “Thanks for your help today.”
“So, have you seen him yet? He’s in the building this afternoon at a photo shoot.”
“Seen whom?”
“Zach Anderson.” Kacee gave her a look as if she’d grown another head.
“No.” Cameron frowned at the noise and vibration coming from her bag. Her phone was going nuts. If she stopped to figure out what it was, she’d be late, and she couldn’t be late.
“Every woman in the building must have been in the studio during his photo shoot.” Kacee let out a sigh. “He’s beautiful. Have you met him before?”
“Yes.” Oh, they’d met before. She’d spent the past ten years avoiding him, too. If that wasn’t enough, she had no interest in dating a professional athlete, especially in her line of work. Female sportscasters had a difficult time in pro sports as it was; she wasn’t going to add to the existing problem.
Cameron glanced up from her still-buzzing handbag to catch Kacee’s eye as she hurried toward the door.
“If you’re interested in talking with him, I’ll make sure you get introduced tomorrow,” she said.
“Oh, God. I’d love that. Thanks, Cameron!”
“You’re welcome. Listen. I’ve got my phone if something happens, but it’s Donna’s rehearsal dinner—”
“And Donna will have a fit if you leave in the middle of it,” Kacee finished. “Hopefully, nobody in the NFL gets arrested or traded over the next four hours or so.”
JULIE BRANNAGH has been writing since she was old enough to hold a pencil. She lives in a small town near Seattle, where she once served as a city council member and owned a yarn shop. She shares her home with a wonderful husband, two uncivilized Maine Coons, and a rambunctious chocolate Lab.
When Julie’s not writing, she’s reading, or armchair-quarterbacking her beloved Seattle Seahawks from the comfort of the family room couch. Julie is a Golden Heart finalist and the author of four contemporary sports romances.
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Available now wherever e-books are sold.
A
S
COUNDRELS OF
S
T.
J
AMES
N
OVELLA
By Lorraine Heath
A
L
O
VE AND
F
OOTBALL
N
OVE
L
By Julie Brannagh
A
B
ILLIONAIRE
B
AC
HELORS
C
LUB
N
OVEL
By Monica Murphy
A
T
RUST
N
O
O
NE
N
OVEL
By Dixie Lee Brown
An Excerpt from
A Scoundrels of St. James Novella
by Lorraine Heath
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author Lorraine Heath brings us the eagerly awaited final story in the Scoundrels of St. James series.
Winnie, the Duchess of Avendale, never knew peace until her brutal husband died. With William Graves, a royal physician, she’s discovered burning desire—and the healing power of love. But now, confronted by the past she thought she’d left behind, Winnie must face her fears . . . or risk losing the one man who can fulfill all her dreams.
A
fter last night, she’d dared to hope that she meant something special to him, but they were so very different in rank and purpose. She considered suggesting that they go for a walk now, but she didn’t want to move away from where she was. So near to him. He smelled of sandalwood. His jaw and cheeks were smooth. He’d shaved before he came to see her. His hair curled wildly about his head, and she wondered if he ever tried to tame it, then decided he wouldn’t look like himself without the wildness.
With his thumb, he stroked her lower lip. His blue eyes darkened. She watched the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed. Leaning in, he lowered his mouth to hers. She rose up on her toes to meet him, inviting him to possess, plunder, have his way. She became lost in the sensations of his mouth playing over hers, vaguely aware of his twisting her around so they were facing each other. As she skimmed her hands up over his shoulders, his arms came around her, drawing her nearer. He was a man of nimble fingers, skilled hands that eased hurts and injuries and warded off death. He had mended her with those hands, and now with his lips he was mending her further.
Suddenly changing the angle of his mouth, he deepened the kiss, his tongue hungrily exploring, enticing her to take her own journey of discovery. He tasted of peppermint. She could well imagine him keeping the hard candies in his pocket to hand to children in order to ease their fears. Snitching one for himself every now and then.
He folded his hands around the sides of her waist and, without breaking his mouth from hers, lifted her onto the desk. Parchment crackled beneath her. She knew she should be worried that they were ruining the plans for the hospital, but she seemed unable to care about anything beyond the wondrous sensations that he was bringing to life.
Avendale had never kissed her with such enthusiasm, such resolve. She felt as though William were determined to devour her, and that it would be one of the most wondrous experiences of her life.
Hiking her skirts up over her knees, he wedged himself between her thighs. Very slowly, he lowered her back to the desk until she was sprawled over it like some wanton. On the desk! She had never known this sort of activity could occur anywhere other than the bed. It was wicked, exciting, intriguing. Surely he didn’t mean to do more than kiss her, not that she was opposed to him going further.
She’d gone so long without a caress, without being desired, without having passions stirred. She felt at once terrified and joyful while pleasure curled through her.
As he dragged his mouth along her throat, he began undoing buttons, giving himself access to more skin. He nipped at her collarbone, circled his tongue in the hollow at her throat. She plowed her fingers through his golden locks, relishing the soft curls as they wound around her fingers.
More buttons were unfastened. She sighed as he trailed his mouth and tongue along the upper swells of her breasts. Heat pooled deep within her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, taking surcease from the pressure of him against her. He moaned low, more a growl than anything as he pressed a kiss in the dip between her breasts.
God help her, but she wanted to feel his touch over all of her.
Peeling back her bodice, he began loosening the ribbons on her chemise. In the distance, someplace far far away, she thought she heard a door open.
“The count—” Her butler began and stopped.
“Winnie?” Catherine’s voice brought her crashing back to reality.
An Excerpt from
A Love and Football Novel
by Julie Brannagh
All’s fair in Love and Football . . .
Emily Hamilton doesn’t trust men. She’s much more comfortable playing the romantic lead in front of a packed house onstage than in her own life. So when NFL star and alluring ladies’ man Brandon McKenna acts as her personal white knight, she has no illusions that he’ll stick around. However, a misunderstanding with the press throws them together in a fake engagement that yields unexpected (and breathtaking) benefits in the first installment of Julie Brannagh’s irresistible new series.
E
mily had barely enough time to hang up the cordless and flip on the TV before Brandon wandered down the stairs.
“Hey,” he said, and he threw himself down on the couch next to her.
His blond curls were tangled, his eyes sleepy, and she saw a pillowcase crease on his cheek. He looked completely innocent, until she saw the wicked twinkle in his eyes. Even in dirty workout clothes, he was breathtaking. She wondered if it was possible to ovulate on demand.
“I’m guessing you took a nap,” she said.
“I was supposed to be watching you.” He tried to look penitent. It wasn’t working.
“Glad to know you’re making yourself comfortable,” she teased.
He stretched his arm around the back of the couch.
“Everything in your room smells like flowers, and your bed’s great.” He pulled up the edge of his t-shirt and sniffed it. Emily almost drooled at a glimpse of his rock-hard abdomen. Evidently, it was possible to have more than a six pack. “The guys will love my new perfume. Maybe they’ll want some makeup tips,” he muttered, and grabbed for the remote Emily left on the coffee table.
He clicked through the channels at a rapid pace.
“Excuse me. I had that.” She lunged for it. No such luck. Emily ended up sprawled across his lap.
“The operative word here, sugar, is ‘had.’ ” He held it up in the air out of her reach while he continued to click. He’d wear a hole in his thumb if he kept this up. “No NFL Network.” She tried to sit up again, which wasn’t working well. Of course, he was chuckling at her struggles. “Oh, I get it. You’re heading for second base.”
“Hardly.” Emily reached over and tried to push off on the other arm of the couch. One beefy arm wrapped around her. “I’m not trying to do anything. Oh, whatever.”
“You know, if you want a kiss, all you have to do is ask.”
She couldn’t imagine how he managed to look so innocent while smirking.
“I haven’t had a woman throw herself in my lap for a while now. This could be interesting,” he said.
Emily’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “I did not throw myself in your lap.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Which one of us is—”
“Let go of me.” She was still trying to grab the remote, without success.
“You’ll fall,” he warned.
“What’s your point?”
“Here.” He stuck the remote down the side of the couch cushion so Emily couldn’t grab it. He grasped her upper arms, righted her with no effort at all, and looked into her eyes. “All better. Shouldn’t you be resting, anyway?”
Emily tried to take a breath. Their bodies were frozen. He held her, and she gazed into his face. His dimple appeared, vanished, appeared again. She licked her lips with the microscopic amount of moisture left in her mouth. He was fighting a smile, but even more, he dipped his head toward her. He was going to kiss her.
“Yes,” she said.
Her voice sounded weak, but it was all she could do to push it out of lungs that had no air at all. He continued to watch her, and he gradually moved closer. Their mouths were inches apart. Emily couldn’t stop looking at his lips. After a few moments that seemed like an eternity, he released her and dug the remote from the couch cushion. She felt a stab of disappointment. He had changed his mind.
“Turns out you have the NFL Network, so I think I can handle another twenty-four hours here,” he announced as he stopped on a channel she’d never seen before.
“You might not be here another twenty-four minutes. Don’t you have a TV at home?” She wrapped her arms around her midsection. She wished she could come up with something more witty and cutting to say. She was so sure he would kiss her, and then he hadn’t.
An Excerpt from
A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel
by Monica Murphy
New York Times
bestselling author Monica Murphy concludes her sexy Billionaire Bachelors Club series with a fiery romance that refuses to be left at the office.
Bryn James can’t take much more of being invisible to her smart, sexy boss, Matthew DeLuca. Matt’s never been immune to his gorgeous assistant’s charms, and though he’s tried to stay professional, Bryn—with a jaw-dropping new look—is suddenly making it very difficult. And when the lines between business and pleasure become blurred, he’ll be faced with the biggest risk of his career—and his heart.
Bryn
“I shouldn’t do this.” He’s coming right at me, one determined step after another, and I slowly start to back up, fear and excitement bubbling up inside me, making it hard to think clearly.
“Shouldn’t do what?”
I lift my chin, my gaze meeting his, and I see all the turbulent, confusing emotions in his eyes, the grim set of his jaw and usually lush mouth. The man means business—what sort of business I’m not exactly sure, but I can take a guess. Increasing my pace, I take hurried backward steps to get away from all that handsome intensity coming at me until my butt meets the wall.
I’m trapped. And in the best possible place too.
“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all night,” he practically growls, stopping just in front of me.
I have
? I want to ask, but I keep my lips clamped tight. He never seems to notice me, not that I ever really want him to. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself. That sort of thing usually brings too much unwanted attention. I’ve dealt with that sort of trouble before, and it nearly destroyed me.
The more time I spend with my boss though, the more I want him to see me. Really see me as a woman. Not the dependable, efficiently organized Miss James who makes his life so much easier.
I want Matt to see me as a woman. A woman he wants.
Playing with fire. . .
The thought floating through my brain is apt, considering the potent heat in Matt’s gaze.
“I don’t understand how I could be, considering I’ve done nothing but work my tail off the entire evening,” I retort, wincing the moment the words leave me. I blame my mounting frustration over our situation. I’m tired, I’ve done nothing but live and breathe this winery opening for the last few weeks, and I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed. Pull the covers over my head and sleep for a month.
But if a certain someone wanted to join me in my bed, there wouldn’t be any sleeping involved. Just plenty of nakedness and kissing and hot, delicious sex . . .
My entire body flushes at the thought.
“And I appreciate you working that pretty tail of yours off for me. Though I’d hate to see it go,” he drawls, his gaze dropping low. Like he’s actually trying to check out my backside. His flirtatious tone shocks me, rendering me still.
Our relationship isn’t like this. Strictly professional is how Matt and I keep it between us. But that last remark was most definitely what I would consider flirting. And the way he’s looking at me . . .
Oh. My.
My cheeks warm when he stops directly in front of me. I can feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating scent, and I press my lips together to keep from saying something really stupid.
God, I want you. So bad my entire body aches for your touch.
Yeah. I sound like those romance novels I used to devour when I had more time to freaking read. I always thought those emotions were so exaggerated. No way could what happens in a romance novel actually occur in real life.
But I’m feeling it. Right now. With Matthew DeLuca. And the way he’s looking at me almost makes me think he might be feeling it too.
“So um, h-how have I been driving you crazy?” I swallow hard. I sound like a stuttering idiot, and I’m trying to calm my racing heart but it’s no use. We’re staring at each other in silence, the only sound our accelerated breathing, and then he reaches out. Rests his fingers against my cheek. Lets them drift along my face.
Slowly I close my eyes and part my lips, sharp pleasure piercing through me at his intimate touch. I curl my fingers against the wall as if I can grab onto it, afraid I might slide to the ground if I don’t get a grip and soon. I can smell him. Feel him. We’ve been close to each other before, but not like this. Never like this.
An Excerpt from
A Trust No One Novel
by Dixie Lee Brown
Beautiful and deadly, Rayna Dugan is a force to be reckoned with. But when she must suddenly defend her life against a criminal empire, Rayna knows she needs backup. Ex-cop Ty Whitlock never meant for his former flame to get mixed up in this mess—a mess he feels responsible for. Now he’s got only one choice: find Rayna and keep her safe. But that’s the easy part. Once he finds her, can he convince her to stay?