Race for Love by Nana Malone
(The Donovans #3)Publication date: July 27th 2015
Genres: New Adult, Romance
Up and coming racecar driver, Kisima Jennings, is all alone in the world and that’s just how she likes it. After all, she has her career, who needs family? But when a near-fatal crash jeopardizes her future, she’s forced to lean on someone for the first time in her life.
As an athletic trainer, Derek Donovan is driven and has always kept his eyes on the prize, never letting personal entanglements come between him and his dream of becoming a head trainer for the New Orleans Jaguars. That is, until one misstep costs him everything. Now he’s starting over, but with a client as tempting as Kisima, is he destined to repeat the mistakes of his past? Or will letting someone close bring him everything he’s ever wanted?
Excerpt:
She
stopped her chair when she saw the man in the living room. From this
vantage point, she had an excellent view of a spectacular jeans-clad
ass. It was so good the jeans should be thanking him for making them
look so good. Butterflies fluttered low in her belly and she silently
admonished herself. What was she doing ogling this guy? She was here
to work. Never mind that it had been so long she barely remembered
what sex was like.
She
dragged her focus back to the tall stranger taking up space in TJ's
living room.
Dark,
inky hair dusted his collar, lightly curling at the collar. His
shoulders, holy hell, they were broad. Clearly, he worked out, but
not so much that he looked like some muscle bound meathead. He still
had a neck. Judging his height, he was probably around six feet two,
maybe taller. He was just a little shorter than TJ. His back equally
fascinated her as he studied the trophy wall and her stats. But she
mostly focused on how his jeans hung low on his hips, showcasing his
tight ass.
A
deep voice startled her out of her reverie. "You should take a
picture, it'll last longer. Or you like seeing it all in the flesh?"
His voice was low and sexy, but held a note of teasing.
A flush of heat crept up her neck, making
her face flame. The last thing she needed. When he turned slowly,
Kiss involuntarily held her breath, almost like her body knew to
brace itself for something magic.
Oh,
wow. With a jaw carved out of
stone, his beautiful cheekbones were more geared for a runway model
than a physical therapist. And his thick, sooty lashes rivaled her
own. Jesus Christ, She was supposed to work with this guy? How was
she supposed to work with him day in and day out for the next few
months? She had twelve weeks until the Abu Dhabi race.
No
way no how. Physical therapy required touching. Lots
of...touching. She'd had her
fill of too handsome too cocky assholes. Antonio had been one. She
knew the type "I won't be needing a picture thanks, I've had
enough."
The
corner of his lips tipped into a wry smile and those piercing baby
blues of his made it nearly impossible to think. Nearly.
He
studied her in her chair for a moment. "So you're KM Jennings.
I'm not sure why, but before I got here, I expected a guy."
She
shrugged. "Kisima, actually. And it was done by design. When I
first started, it was to slip me past organizers without too much
discrimination. Added bonus was I looked like a boy for ages."
His
gaze slid over her and her skin prickled with heat in response.
"Somehow I doubt that. I can see you doing it to keep the
announcers from butchering your name.” His voice was softer and
flowed over her like melted chocolate.
“That
too. It means spring in Swahili. Mom was Tanzanian.” Stop
talking, Kiss. Why had she
offered that? He wasn't here to date her. He was here to train her.
His
gaze narrowed for a moment, then he angled his head toward the trophy
wall. "That you in Sports
Illustrated?"
Like
an idiot, she blushed...again. What the hell was wrong with her? This
guy was her supposed new trainer not some cute boy who wanted to buy
her a drink at the club. "Yeah. The story on women in racing."
He
nodded. "So the racing bikini is totally called for."
She'd
regretted that spread from the moment she'd agreed to do it. It
certainly didn't help her gain respect. Magazines liked to feature
her as their token minority and woman. There were other women. And
other black racers. But a black woman, she was a chupacabra.
Kiss
shifted in the chair trying to take some pressure off her hip. "So
they call you the miracle worker. Is it true? I mean, why do you
patch up broken athletes? You going to have me all patched up and
ready to drive in three months?" Her lower back throbbed and all
she wanted to do was lie down and stretch properly.
His
eyes widened as he watched her shift in the chair and he crossed his
arms. "I don't know about that. I don't really believe in
miracles." His frown deepened. "But I guess I like to help
people. And athletes are a special breed. Able to do what so few can
do."
"My
own personal superhero. I suppose you'll have me call you Clark
Kent."
"If
you need to see me as a superhero, feel free. But there won’t be
any magic involved. Just plain old hard work. One question though, do
you want to tell me what you're still doing in the chair?" His
glare was derisive as if she'd done something wrong.
She
tilted her chin up. "Some trainer you are. I assume you've seen
my file, so you know I can't really walk right now. This is my ride."
Excerpt
"Can
you come in here for a sec?"
Fuck
yes. But his rational brain stopped him from doing the stupid thing.
"Are you sure about that?"
She
hesitated a second. "Yes. Please, I need your help."
With
an exhale, he knew how this was going to go down. If he touched a
wet, slippery Kiss, he was going to want to touch more. Kiss, lick,
fuck. But he opened the door anyway.
Steam
filled the expansive bathroom. But through it he could see it was a
larger version of the guest bath down the hall. The floor was a white
marble and white and gray glass tile lined the shower. His gaze
raked over her hungrily. From her delicate feet and strong calves to
the lean strong thighs. But then her mauve towel stopped the
progression of his exploration. Damn. "What's the problem?"
She
sighed with relief as she turned, keeping just her head in the stream
of the shower, trying to avoid getting the towel wet. She squinted up
at him as the spray of water hit her face. "I managed to wash it
okay, and even get conditioner in, but I'm dead exhausted and my
shoulder started to talk to me. Normally I'd have just kneeled at the
tub to wash it, and last time, Leah helped me, but I'm sort of
desperate here."
She
was wet, and slick. And he wanted his hand in her hair. He'd had a
million dreams just like this one. In fact he wasn't entirely sure he
wasn't dreaming right now. "Okay, what do you need?"
"If
you could just help me make sure that the conditioner is out, I can
do a quick detangle."
"Uh,
okay." Except to do it, he was going to have to get into the
shower. First option was to take off his clothes and climb in with
her. He liked that option. The idea of burying himself inside her
had him biting back a groan. Yeah no, no naked. He'd have to go in
clothed.
He
removed his phone and put it on top of the toilet. When he opened the
glass door, her eyes flared. "What are you doing?"
"To
make this work properly, you need to be under the stream of water
right?"
She
nodded.
"Okay
then, I'm getting wet."
"Oh,
uh..." Her voice trailed.
"Do
you want my help or not?"
"I
do. Sorry. I guess I just didn’t think this all the way through."
He clamped his jaw together. The
sooner you help her, the sooner you can go back to your room and take
a cold one. Once in the stream
of the shower, her scent surrounded him and he knew he was going to
lose the battle and the war. He was already losing a grip on his
control and he hadn't even touched her yet. "Uh, just stand in
the stream and I'll rinse you out. While you're at it, give me the
wide-tooth comb."
"Oh,
you don't have to do that. I'll manage."
"Don't
be silly. I'm in here, I'm wet and I know how to detangle hair."
A
light flush stained her cheeks. "While I believe you've probably
done this before, I, uh, black hair is different."
He
blinked at her, the laugh rushing out of him just like always. He
never knew what was going to come out of her mouth. "I guess I
should have probably mentioned four of my sisters are black, or half
black anyway. Two of them with hair curlier than yours. I got this."
Her
jaw unhinged and she did a guppy routine for a moment, then she
handed over the wide-tooth comb. "Have at it."
"Turn
around." Damn, why did his voice sound so hoarse? When she did,
the water ran though her hair, rinsing out the conditioner and he
massaged the rest out with the pads of his fingers. In front of him,
Kiss groaned and let her head relax back into the scalp massage he
was giving her. The towel she clutched was soaked and no doubt heavy
by this point.
He forced his mind to go blank as he rinsed
and massaged. Gently, he began to detangle her hair, starting in
sections from the ends to the roots. Growing up, he'd had to help get
Brooklyn and Max ready for school sometimes, so he knew what he was
doing. When he was done, he couldn't keep his hand out of the
softness of her hair and he kept finger detangling.
Slowly
she turned into him, blinking up at him through wet, sooty lashes.
"Th-thank you. I couldn't have done that myself and it went much
faster."
The
first step in dealing with a problem was admitting he had a problem.
He was fighting the pull, but it had been an uphill battle from the
minute he saw her. If he was Clark Kent, she was his Kryptonite.
"Kiss, I--fuck it." He cupped the back of her head and
pulled her into him. Before melding their lips together, he paused,
giving her an out, but she didn't protest. Instead, her fingers dug
into his soaked T-shirt and dragged him closer.
When
he slid his lips over hers, need took over and all brain function
ceased.
Excerpt
Derek
punished the treadmill in the hotel gym. Kisima Jennings’ words
kept running through his skull. I
don't think this is going to work out. I don't think this is going
to work out. I don't think--
He
pushed faster, trying to outrun the echo of her voice in his head. In
his blood. Since he'd left the ranch, he couldn't stop thinking about
her. Which was part of the problem. He sure as shit couldn't work
with her. They would clash at every turn.
The
other problem, he fucking wanted her. Bad enough to consider begging.
Those dark, chocolate, arresting eyes of hers had latched onto his
soul. In the sunlight of the study, her cinnamon kissed skin had
looked soft and good enough to taste. Even with the chair, he could
tell she was strong and athletic, but curvy. He liked strong women.
None of that waify bullshit. Idiot.
It
was like he never fucking learned. He couldn't explain it, but the
pull to her was strong, potent. After Kallie, he should have learned
his lesson. But his cock, apparently, was a little slow on the
uptake. He could ignore it, but if he was trapped in one room with
her for several weeks, he might go insane.
He
knew he'd been an ass. And he'd even tried to rein himself in. But
the fire in her eyes was too fun to watch. Someone with that kind of
fire would never just take being in a wheelchair at face value. She
was a fighter. He knew it. It pissed him off that the woman in all
the photos was replaced by a pampered princess.
She
was the princess in the ivory tower who expected everything to be
done for her. And he thought Kallie Wintor was spoiled. She had
nothing on Kisima Jennings.
The
main house reminded him of a trip his family had taken to California
to see Hearst Castle when he was a kid. It wasn’t nearly as large
or opulent, but pretty fucking close with the old-world feel. From
the research he'd done, he knew that the Daniels were an old racing
family. The founder of Daniels Racing, Donald Daniels had been an
oilman who had too much money and no idea what to do with it. Looked
like that was still true today.
The
grounds, from what he'd seen and the map he'd been given, contained
three guesthouses spread across the property. The one directly behind
the main house was about a football field away. Between the two
houses, there was a pool, a basketball court, an expansive circular
driveway and a state of the art gym.
The
map boasted two other equally large guesthouses on the property
spread out around the mazes and the racetrack. TJ Daniels had a
racetrack on his freaking property. Granted he ran a racing school
too, but damn. Why the hell had his dad never sent them out there for
summers? That would have certainly been a change of pace.
Though,
judging by that enormous chip on Kiss Jennings' shoulder, the money
hadn't done her any good. He was still trying to figure out that
relationship. She clearly lived there, but what was she to the old
man?
Stop
thinking about her. It's not like you're ever going to see her again.
Something way too close to regret spread from his chest. No, he was
not upset about not seeing her again. He was missing an opportunity
to use his skills. Yeah, yeah. The lies he told himself. Either way
though, he'd be right about one thing. It wouldn't work to be at odds
with her trainer. He needed someone to commit to working their ass
off. And he had a feeling Kisima wasn't that kind of girl.
His
phone chimed and he hopped off the still moving treadmill to snag it.
Maybe one of those calls he'd been making to every friend he had in
the league was finally starting to pay off.
"Hello,
this is Derek."
There
was a beat of silence and his skin prickled with awareness. "This
is Kisima Jennings. Do you have a few minutes?"
His
brain told him to be cautious. Told him that he'd regret taking this
call. But every instinct and cell in his body told him to take it.
"What can I do for you, Kisima?"
"I
don't suppose you'll let me get away without eating any crow."
He
smirked. "Not on your life."
"Fine."
She was silent for a moment. "I would like you to come back. I
need your help." It sounded like she was speaking through her
teeth.
His
gut twisted even as the adrenaline flooded his veins. He wanted to go
back. Just the idea of seeing her stubborn little vein jut was
enough. "On one condition, I'm in charge of your recovery. I say
it, you do it. No questions, no complaints."
More
silence. No doubt she was thinking up all the ways she could kill
him. "Fine."
"In
that case, I'll see you tomorrow."
Excerpt
She
stumbled forward, changing tactics. "Derek, I'm sorry. It was
stupid. A one time thing. I never should have--",she blew a
strand of hair out of her face. "Let me make it up to you. I'll
blow you. Remind you why we're good together."
Usually,
when a woman so generously offered to wrap her lips around his cock
and suck him into her sweet warmth, he wasn't ever turning her down.
Except
for now. In this case, with this woman. So. Not. Even. Happening.
She
sidled up to him and tried to wrap herself around him boa constrictor
style, and Derek wished he was anywhere but here.
He
gently removed her arms from around his neck. "Kallie, not gonna
happen."
She
pulled back with raised brows. "You're seriously turning me
down?"
He
bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the incredulity
in her tone. Might not be a good idea to laugh in her face. She
wasn't used to hearing no. "I'm sorry, Kallie, but yeah. I'm not
even mad about that dude. Truth be told, it was nearing time for this
to be over anyway."
"Why
can't you see that we'd be good together?"
"No."
He
had no delusions about why she wanted him. It wasn't his looks,
though they probably didn't hurt. He was just starting in his career
so he didn't have money. No, Kallie wanted a project, and he was
damned if he was going to be anyone's damn boy toy. He wasn't a doll
she could dress up and parade around and would jump when she said.
She
glared at him as she stepped back. "I know your reputation, you
know. The girls you've been with. Women talk. Derek Donovan, the
devil himself in the sack. I made a mistake last night. But you can’t
walk away from me. We're not done, Derek."
His
stomach knotted. She wasn't wrong, there had been a string of women.
More than he could remember. It wasn't something he was proud of.
After the injury that had sidelined him, his friends had been getting
NBA offers. The jealousy and despair had made him spin out and he'd
gone a little bit out of control. The guy he'd been then would have
taken the blow job and walked away. But he wasn't that person
anymore. Especially not if it meant relinquishing his freedom.
"Goodbye, Kallie."
Interview:
-
Welcome to What to Read Wednesday! I’m excited to have you here. Tell us five things about you the person, not the author.
Oh I’m just your average Ghanaian/American girl who lives in
sunny San Diego with an American husband who thinks my family is
crazy. My Big Fat Greek Wedding has nothing on us. In my infinite
spare time, I chase around my two year old trying to tame her wild
mane of hair, try and corral my spunky Scottie and occasionally let
my hubby pamper me.
-
Tell us your favorite comfort food?
Plantain. Pretty much any way you can make it but it’s my
favorite thing in the world. In Ghana we have a version called
Kelewele. Super ripe plantain cut into tiny pieces and spiced with
pepper and ginger and garlic and deep friend. OMG, makes me
homesick.
-
If you ruled your own country, what would be the first law you’d put into effect?
First law, all men must do the dishes. Anyone who makes over a
million in salary, must “adopt” a family living in poverty and
bring them to middle income.
-
What genre (s) do you write?
Paranormal Romance, Multicultural Contemporary Romance, New Adult
Romance
-
What are the first 3 sentences of your book?
Derek Donovan shoved his hands in his pockets and
leaned up against the far wall in Kallie Wintor's sun-lit penthouse
apartment overlooking the French Quarter. The building only had seven
floors, but the view was spectacular. He'd expected some dramatics
but the venom in her voice was unexpected.
-
What’s the hardest part of the writing process for you? The easiest?
Edits. Anyone who knows me knows I hate to edit. In my brain the
story is done. (Even though it’s not) The first flush of the story
idea. I have ideas ying yang. Just need the cloning machine to
write them all. Lol.
-
Describe your writing space.
Space? Ha! Anywhere I can have access to Drop Box and can get ten
minutes to write. With a five year old, you find your time when you
can.
-
What’s the easiest part of a book to write for you…the beginning, middle or end?
The meet. I can always see it in my head. It’s almost always
the moment I think about first.
-
What are you working on now?
I’m working on the next Donovans books. I’m also working on
the next In Stilettos books. And as always a novella here, a side
project there.
-
Do you have one piece of advice you’d share with a newbie author?
Listen to your gut. You know best for your story.
-
And finally, where can we find you and your book(s)?
Thank
you so much for having me!
It was a sultry summer afternoon in Ghana, and Nana was a precocious thirteen. She's been in love with kick butt heroines ever since. With her overactive imagination, and channeling her inner Buffy, it was only a matter a time before she started creating her own characters.
While she waits for her chance at a job as a ninja assassin, in the meantime Nana works out her drama, passion and sass with fictional characters every bit as sassy and kick butt as she thinks she is.
Want to know when the next book is coming? Hit up her Newsletter here. You'll only get updated when there is a new release or a special promotion for her Sexy, Sassy Readers. Newsletter
*USA Today Bestselling In Stilettos Series *
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