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He’s the one she let get away.
Star quarterback, Drew Hazard, was never meant to be with her, Emma Lombardi. He takes risks. She plays it safe. He mingles. She prefers the corner. He’s sexy hot. She’s plain Jane.
When a night of unprotected sex leads to an unplanned pregnancy, Emma does the one thing her heart warns her not to do. She breaks up with Drew, the father of her unborn baby.
What if he’s unwilling to let her go?
After Emma crashes his party, Drew has more questions than answers about their break-up. Suspecting her of keeping a secret that could’ve brought them together instead of driving them apart, Drew does the one thing his mind tells him not to do. He’ll break Emma’s heart.
“I haven’t changed, Drew. You have. Our break-up wasn’t about going public.” She came over and jabbed a finger on the spot above his heart. “You want fast. I like predictable. You want new. I like routine.” She spread her hands out. “What you see is what you get. Last chance. Take all of me, or none of me.”
She was wrong. He hadn’t changed. Instead, he’d grown from the star-in-the-eyes eighteen-year-old kid she’d known to a twenty-five-year old guy who’d finally caught his star in the sky.
“I tried all of you, and you weren’t enough.” At his clipped tone, she sucked in a breath. His gut clenched. “And you broke up with me, Em, not the other way around.”
Giving him a view of her tipped chin, she grabbed her mask off the table. “You’re right.” The strap dangled from her fingers. “Goodbye, Drew. Have a nice life with Tess.” She headed for the back doors.
Wait a minute. He stalked toward her. “You flew here, crashed my party, and think you can just leave? I don’t think so. Risks, remember?”
The gentleman in him warned him to cool his temper and walk away from her rejection. Again. The bastard that seemed to win out more since their breakup had other plans.
“Get laid, Emma. You need a big cock in you like no one’s business.”
The pissed off determination on her face was the last thing he saw before she stormed off in the direction of . . . his motorcycle. Shit!