How to Score (43 page)

I wanted to see her, so I went to watch her jog

And wound up getting strip-searched by her dog.

Horace leaned close to the microphone and rapped in a hip-hop rhythm.

She had a strip-searching dog,

She was a SCABHOG.

She’s really, really hot,

And he likes her a lot.

Sammi was vaguely aware that people were laughing, but she was in too much shock to register much of anything beyond the fact that Chase was standing in the exact spot he’d sworn he’d never stand, doing exactly what he’d sworn he’d never do—performing in public. And he was looking straight at her while he did it.

He leaned toward the microphone again.

She knocked me off my feet, and it took me by surprise

How hard I fell when I looked into her eyes.

I wanted to level, but I didn’t want to lose her

If I told her the truth, I knew it would bruise her.

Horace leaned forward and chimed in.

He knew she’d be hurt

If he dished the dirt,

So he kept his mouth shut,

And he acted like a butt.

Chase walked forward and dropped to one knee in front of Sammi.

So I wrote this rhyme, Sam, to tell you how I feel—

How I’m sorry that I tricked you and I acted like a heel.

The situation was deceptive, but my heart was true.

And the truth is, Sammi, I’m in love with you.

‘He loves you, girl,’
Horace sang.
‘You’re his whole world. Bop-a-doodle, bop-a-doodle, bing bang bong!’

The audience burst into raucous cheers and applause, but it barely registered over the thud of Sammi’s heart. Chase’s eyes, melting and brown, poured into hers like hot chocolate. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go someplace private to talk.”

Chase pulled her to her feet, handed the microphone back to Horace, and tugged her around the building to the jogging trail. A sweetgum branch rustled overhead. He turned to face her, his dark eyes glowing somberly in the faint light of the streetlamp. Fall leaves swirled at their feet.

“Sammi, I used to think logic could fix any problem. I even tried to use it to fix you. But instead, you fixed me.” He lifted her hands and gazed into her eyes. “You showed me that some things go beyond logic. Some things are matters of the heart. Some things are just meant to be.”

Sammi’s heart battered hard against her ribs.

“Like you and that big old mutt of yours,” he continued. “Like you and your job.” He moved closer, close enough that she could smell the soapy scent of his shaving cream, and moved his hands up her arms. His voice dropped to a husky rumble. “Like you and me.”

She searched his face and saw his soul in his eyes—a soul she could trust with her life, with her heart, with her tomorrows.

“I love you, Sammi. Is there any way you can forgive me?”

She placed her palm against his freshly shaved cheek and gave him a tremulous smile. “I already have.”

“Ah, Sammi.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You’re the SCABHOG of my dreams.” He pulled her close and kissed her until her head was woozy and her body on fire.

“I resigned as your coach,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear, “but I’d like to sign up as your teammate.”

Her heart ran into the end zone and did a touchdown dance. She twined her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. “I think,” she whispered against his lips, “that you’ve made the cut.”

THE DISH

Where authors give you the inside scoop!

From the desk of Jennifer Haymore

Dear Reader,

When Sophie, the heroine of A HINT OF WICKED (on sale now), first came to me describing her problem—that she happened to be married to two men at once, both of whom she loved unconditionally—I rubbed my hands together in glee. What a juicy, wicked dilemma! Yes, of course, I told her, I would be thrilled beyond measure to pen this tale.

“But how on earth will you resolve my problem?” she asked me.

“Easy,” said I, proud of my fantabulous solution, and doubly proud of how quickly it had come to me. “You love them both, right?”

“Tremendously!” she declared, nodding vigorously.

“Then you’ll live happily ever after with
both
your husbands,” I decreed, leaning back in my chair and awaiting her exuberant and everlasting thanks.

Thus ensued a long, uncomfortable silence. Finally, Sophie looked up at me with somber, golden-brown eyes. “Forgive me, but that won’t work. Neither of my husbands will accept such a solution.”

“Huh. Are you saying they’re the possessive caveman type?”

“Exactly.” She leaned forward a bit and lowered her voice so that no one outside my office could hear her. “In fact, I’m certain if either one saw me so much as touch the other, murder might ensue. It’s already come close to that. Thank heavens nobody has been shot.” She gave me a significant look. “Yet.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “I could work on them… ”

Sophie broke me off in mid-thought. “You could ‘work on them’ for eternity, but you see, there is another problem. One that might negate any possibility of future happiness for all three of us: I am a duchess. In England. In 1823.”

“Ah. I see,” I said. But alas, I didn’t, not really. I figured, okay, if Sophie doesn’t want both her husbands, I’ll pick one, and we’ll go with that. Cocky writer that I am, I thought maybe I could flip a coin.
Ha!

Soon afterward, Sophie took me on her journey, and…
oh my
! It wasn’t easy. Given two powerful, honorable, drop-dead gorgeous men, Sophie had to choose the one she wanted to stand beside for the rest of her days. Moreover, in doing so, she had to break the heart of the other man—a man she also still loved.

And I won’t even begin to get into the quagmire of 1823 marriage laws! To work everything out without turning Sophie into a criminal, making her child illegitimate, or having her become a pariah or the laughingstock of society? Just about impossible!

Eventually, though, Sophie found her way. By the time I finished writing, I was so glad she let me be the one to share her tale with the world.

I truly hope you enjoy reading Sophie’s story. Please feel free to stop by my Web site,
www.jennifer haymore.com
, where you can share your thoughts about the book, learn some bizarre and fascinating historical facts, and read more about the person who has most recently barged into my office demanding I write
his
story…

Sincerely,

From the desk of Carolyn Jewel

Dear Reader,

People. Really. I tried to warn you with my first book, MY WICKED ENEMY, but I don’t think you were paying attention. I’ll try again with MY FORBIDDEN DESIRE, my second book (on sale now!). Will you all finally listen up? I certainly hope so. The world is a dangerous place, and not just in the obvious ways. True statement: Things around you aren’t always what they seem. Same for people, too. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. How obvious can you get, Carolyn? But really, take a long, hard look at your boss. Is she (or he) really human? How do you know for sure?

Our capacity to deceive others is far exceeded by our capacity to deceive ourselves. Keep that in mind (but not before bed, wouldn’t want to keep you up!).

Suppose, for the sake of argument, there really are monsters among us.

Not the human kind—I think, without further discussion, we can all agree
they
exist. I’m talking about something else. What if there really are creatures like demons or, oh, say, fiends? And “people” who can do magic. Why the quotes, you ask? Well, they wouldn’t be regular folks like you and me, now would they?

Who would they be? Mages and witches, of course. They rose to prominence in the Dark Ages when they were busy protecting us from demons and the like. Demons, including fiends, were looking for a bigger place in the world then. But thanks to the mages, that didn’t work so well. (Thank you, mages!) Over the years, though, some mages went from being the good guys to the not-so-good guys, and now the demons are fighting for their lives. They’re sick and tired of being murdered and enslaved.

That’s the backdrop of my books: an all-out war between demons and fiends and mages and witches. But what if we take that one step further? What if a demon or a fiend fell in love with a witch or a mage? And now we’ve got my latest book, MY FORBIDDEN DESIRE.

Xia is a fiend. Alexandrine Marit is a witch. He hates witches for some very, very good reasons. Alexandrine isn’t sure demons exist and, well, as witches go, she’s not much of one… until she gets her hands on a talisman. Now Xia has to protect her from some very nasty people. And Alexandrine’s view of the world pretty much explodes. What happens after that? You’ll have to read it to find out.

Enjoy!

From the desk of Robin Wells

Dear Reader,

Have you ever been in one of those slumps when everything in your life is going wrong? Well, the heroine of my latest romantic comedy, HOW TO SCORE (on sale now), is in just such a situation, and she decides to hire a telephone life coach to help her straighten things out. Only problem is, the man Sammi is baring her soul to isn’t a life coach at all; he’s an FBI agent filling in for his brother—and the man Sammi is falling for.