Second chances don’t usually come wrapped in shoulder pads on Valentine’s Day…
Ten months ago, All-American shortstop Briella Reddington fell hard for grumpy, battle-scarred quarterback Maddox “Mick” McBride.
And then he walked away—right when she was finally ready to let him in.
Now Ella’s done being vulnerable, done being blindsided, and definitely done with emotionally unavailable athletes. But losing a bet lands her at a Valentine’s charity flag-football event…face-to-face with the man who broke her heart.
Maddox never stopped wanting Ella—but teammates loyal to her golden-boy ex, a rival gunning for his spot, and a coach who made Ella the price of peace forced his hand. Choosing her once cost him everything. His season tanked, his starting job is on the line, and seeing Ella again is the one hit he isn’t prepared to take.
When a chaotic Valentine’s “cupid” pushes them together, sparks ignite, truths surface, and Maddox realizes he’s been fighting the wrong battles all year.
This time, he’s not walking away.
He’s fighting for the girl who was always worth the risk.
READ THIS IF YOU LIKE…
Grumpy/protective heroSunshine-with-boundaries heroineSecond-chance romanceCollege sports + rival athletesForced proximityEmotional scars & healing arcsCharity-event chaosA hero who finally fights for his girlTW: mild hazing, alcohol abuse, domestic abuse; mentions of combat scars.
Greenhouse Guard Duty…
"You're not exactly mister popularity either."
I held back a chuckle as I met her gaze. "I was here for the party." Yeah, right.
She pressed her lips together and out. One eyebrow arched. "No party in here, though. Looks like a guy potting plants on a Saturday night."
I swallowed my grin. "Root emergency."
She stared. "You just made that up."
"Fine, it could've waited. But the sooner…"
She leaned forward and buckled a delicate strap around her ankle. The world might've stopped then, and I really wouldn't have cared less.
Nothing could have waited, ever. I needed to be right there—with her, at that moment. The tops of her breasts barely visible inside her neckline, the strong line of her calf. That unbelievably tiny strap that was its own statement of confidence and…dear God, how long had it been? "The…I was here?"
"'But Why?’ Is the question." She settled back into the chair. "Supposedly here for a party, but no hint that you've been drinking—and so much revelry and debauchery nearby."
"Idiots keep hiding pot out here. Have to check a couple of times a night, every time there's a party," I grumbled. "And there’s always a party."
"Greenhouse guard duty?" Her lips curled and her eyebrows lifted. "So that's it. You dressed up like a wallflower to blend in."
Ha ha. "Cute. But I found someone who needed a friend." I held up the pot of cornflowers. "You were here too."
The smile that bloomed on her face was worth the awkward attempt at a joke. I caught my breath.
"Thought you said you don't talk to them."
"You could, though. No judgment."
"Sounds like a thin attempt to spy on me."
"Advanced recon. Not exactly spying."
She rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like my brother. Air Force tough guy, or so he wants everyone to believe."
"Flyboys are marshmallows."
She took another sip of water. "I'll tell him you said that." She twisted the cap back onto the bottle. Light glimmered on the remnants of her tears. "So which branch were you?"
"Marine Corps."
"Ah." She shifted in her seat, those long legs moved against each other again. An electric heat surged through my abdomen and stirred interest in…every part of my body.
I mashed dirt around the root ball, drizzling water into the pot.
She stood and moved closer. Hot and cold flashed across every inch of my skin. I wanted her touch… Instead, she placed her hand on the potted plant.
"He cheated, little flowers."
My stomach dropped lower; I sucked in a breath and held it.
"He's been cheating for a while, I was just too…caught up, I guess." She cupped one of the blooms. "I wanted to believe the lie."
I swallowed against something dry and lumpy in my throat. "I hear they like stories with happy endings."
"Do they?" Her fingers curled hair behind her ear. Glossy pink lips caught the light. "Well, luckily, mine has one. Because I have the self-respect to walk away."
The room buzzed in the silence of the moment, electric, waiting. My arms ached to hold her, but I didn't have permission…and the defiant tilt of her chin said she wasn't asking for sympathy. It occurred to me, then, that she was like my cornflowers—bold, vibrant, but trapped inside the wrong pot.
"I finally told him I just don’t want to be with someone like him." She shrugged one shoulder, but the glassy glint in her eyes gave her away. "Not anymore."
She gave me a small smile as she turned toward the flowers. Her fingers smoothed over the bag of soil, then tipped the smaller pot. She thumbed tiny blue petals as her eyes met mine. "What are they called?"
"Cornflowers."
"They're pretty." She threw me a side-eyed glance that made my heart trip, stumble and fall. "But it does seem like an odd hobby for a Marine."
Author Bio:
J. Rose Black weaves stories about redemption and the transformational power of love - with a few side-helpings of snark. Now an award-winning and Amazon Top 300 chart-topping author, Rose writes about broody alpha males and plucky, no-nonsense women ready to fight for what they believe in. Her novels have been praised for their realistic mental health representations, with narratives offering a unique balance of romance, humor and tougher, real-world issues.
When Rose isn’t deeply immersed in her latest manuscript, she’s working in cyber security and thwarting the next generation of internet bad guys. Out of the office, she’s #Shipping with friends over her favorite, swoon-worthy couples, heading to the gym to battle the great evil that is Unmovable Baby Weight, or complaining about her husband’s addiction to 3D printing. Also: nagging her children to eat something other than cheese.
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