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Don’t Forget About Me
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I was her first kiss. First f*ck. First love.
What we had together back in high school was perfect.
But what if she forgets me all over again?
* Don’t Forget About Me is a steamy full length 50,000 word second chance amnesia romance novel featuring a bad boy billionaire football player and a curvy, feisty heroine with whom he finds a happily ever after. It has no cliffhangers and no cheating.
For a limited time this edition includes Don’t Say a Word, a standalone yet related romance in the same series
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Chapter 1 – Brian
I was supposed to be helping to choose new recruits for my Florida Sharks professional football team but all I couldn’t help getting a little bit sappy. Watching athletes right before they hit the prime of their career was inspiring. But it also made me nostalgic, reminiscent. And still a little fucking heartbroken.
I was at the Sharks’ Training Facility, watching the training session for the rookies. They trained at night when we were done using the fields. Coach Rudi Thompson stood next to me, and we both took notes on the new recruits.
“They’re fit enough,” Coach said with a growl in his voice. “That’s for damn sure.”
I chuckled. “That’s because every time they mess up, Coach Donald makes them run laps.”
Coach Rudi shrugged. “It works. They learn that way. I should do it more with the rest of you. You’re all too cocky for your own good. That’s the problem.”
I laughed. “Shit, we’re doing cardio outside of training sessions enough as it is, thank you very much.”
Coach grinned, but the grin didn’t last long.
“What do you see?” I asked.
Coach shook his head. “It’s what I’m not seeing. I don’t see a hell of a lot potential among these guys,” he said. “What am I supposed to do when someone retires?”
He had a point. Every now and then, we needed to pull someone from the B teams and C teams. They weren’t anything special yet. They played games just like we did, but they weren’t nearly as popular. Once a player was good enough and we had space, they’d get moved up to the real team.
“We’ll see what they’re worth in their game, tomorrow,” I said.
The Sharks were off for a while. When that happened, we took time to watch the other teams’ games. We learned from them, we laughed at them, and we scouted from them. It was a team effort.
I played running back for the team, and I was damn good at what I did. I was one of the best players on the field. That might sound like vanity to some people, but it was the honest truth. I enjoyed what I did. I’d played for the Hurricanes for my college team and worked my way up to professional status with the Sharks soon after.
I’d dreamed about making it to this level ever since I was a little kid. Now that I was living the dream, my life was almost perfect.
There were definitely holes in my life where things were missing. Love, a relationship, companionship. It was something I tried not to think about most of the time, and when I did, I told myself I didn’t want or need any of that bullshit. I played pro ball and nothing was supposed to get me down. Especially girlie crap like that.
I know that since I’m not in a relationship, I should be able to fuck around with whoever I want. My best friend Hanson used to tell me I should be like him, on the prowl for one-night stands and cheap fucking, because I could. There was a time when he was like that and would want me to go hunting for fresh pussy together, but he had gone and settled down, by dating Lacey and then marrying her.
The man was happier than I’d seen him in a long time. He deserved it. He’d pulled his life together, and he and Lacey had just had a baby. And he’d helped me a lot along the way. Especially one time when I really needed it.
So maybe now that Hanson had Lacey, he understood why I had just never been into playing the field. It seemed empty and meaningless, whereas what he and Lacey had— and what I used to have— was something that lasted and was more permanent. Or at least, that’s how it was supposed to be.
There was a time, just after Hanson had met Lacey, that I’d felt sick to my stomach thinking that I would never have the happily ever after I deserved. Now I could be happy for them, like a man should be for his best friend, but I couldn’t help but think of everything I myself had lost. Nor could I seem to let go of worry that I would never find anything like it again, because I couldn’t seem to stop focusing on the fucking past.
Once upon a time, I was certain I would have my own happily ever after. You always do when you have a woman on your arm and you see your future in her eyes. But I was young and stupid and that had been a long time ago. I was the new and improved version of me, trying hard to put idealist hopes behind me and become impervious to love. I wouldn’t allow myself to be heartbroken ever again.