Play to Win is LIVE!!! Y’all I hope you love them as much as I do. ❤️
Also… Mark YOUR Calendar…
September 10, 2020
6:00 pm CST / 7:00 pm EST
Read the book and have your questions ready. I’ll share more as we get closer. For now, grab your book and I’ll “see” you soon.
Kamal’s an ex-football player. Jayda’s a single mother uninterested in another relationship until she sees Kamal with her daughter.
Every rejection will only make his victory sweeter. He plans to lick, taste, and devour her like the delicacy she is until the world, her ex, and Jayda recognizes his name tatted on every inch of her curvy body.
Kamal never plays by halves, and Jayda has a thing or two to show this deviously handsome player. But when the past runs an interference, they’ll learn in matters of the heart there are no rules.
I navigate the bumpy gravel drive in my heels and rolling luggage until a wheel locks up. I rock the bag side to side, searching for the issue. “Where are you?”
“Let me help you with that.” I look toward the deep voice and I’m met with a smile. My heart skips a little and I’m stunned.
“Uh… I think it’s a rock.” I say without drooling.
He picks up the sixty pound bag without issue, moving it to the sidewalk. I open my mouth to thank him when I see all eyes on us. I nervously chuckle.
“I’ll take it from here. I don’t want you to lose your place in line.”
“I’m already seated. I saw you struggling and thought I’d lend a hand.”
“Is that so?”
“Ma’am?” I laugh and he stammers a little. “I’m much to young to be addressed as ma’am, don’t you think?”
“It’s how my mother raised me.” He flashes a trillion-dollar smile that’s derives straight from the steamy depths of hell because it’s downright sinful. The man is a work of art.
Powerful jaw. Broad shoulders. Beneath that shirt is a chiseled body, I’m sure. I swallow around the stone in my throat as he hunkers closer and examines the wheels on my bag.
“Here’s the issue.”
I blink, and his face is close. Super close. I’m finding it hard to breathe and when I do, I inhale a long drag of temptation.
Can a man smell yummy? Yes.
Better than the scent of homemade southern food lingering in the air? Absolutely.
“Everything all right?” A crease of concern bunches between his dark brown eyes.
My lungs empty as I take a quick inventory of the man in front of me. A man rendering me speechless in the right way. This moment is going down in the books. But in my defense, I’m delusional and sleep deprived. That’s what it is. I lay a hand over my galloping heart, fighting to string together a response.
I inhale and… oh hell, that damn delicious scent tickles my nose, and the sensation travels through my body, awakening a whisper of attraction. I groan.
Stop breathing, Jayda. Just stop breathing. I chastise myself the moment I lock eyes with him.
“Yeah, I…” I shake to quiet the voices in my head. “Long morning of travel.”
I can’t look away, and neither does he. I came to Southern Soul to meet my best friend, Catrina. I figured staying with her for the week would makeup for Brett ditching me.
Damn, Texas has some fine ass men. The masterpiece before me has a beard and full eyebrows. He’s groomed, but all man. His golden peanut butter complexion reminds me of my Reesie Piecie. And with that thought comes the thorn in my side, Brett.
“Huh, thanks. I got it. I appreciate your help.” I stand and he moves with me until he’s towering over me.
And he’s tall. I almost groan again, but I hold it in. It’s time for me to find Catrina. Unlike my boyfriend, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a cheater. The moment I want someone more than what I have, I’m out. At least, that was before I had Reese. Now, I stay because… staying’s the right thing to do.
“My pleasure. Name’s Kamal Montgomery. And you are?” He extends a hand.
“Jayda Dallas.” I take his hand and immediately regret it. A trail of heat flows from him to me in a timeless extension of energy, paralyzing me. “Huh, someone’s waiting for me. Thanks again.”
I retract my hand, but not before he flips it over. The perfect thick brow of his arches in an unspoken question. I slip my hand from the warmth of his. But the heat of his touch lingers.
I rub my hand along my skirt, trying to erase the memory as I reclaim the handle of my bag and start rolling towards the front of the line.
“Hey, Jayda!” Catrina sings, wrapping me in a sisterfriend hug as we squeal like kids. When we finally step back, she takes possession of my bag. Then she stares at the man now standing beside us. “Kamal.”
Kamal nods, “Enjoy your meal, Jayda.” Then he disappears.