Can't Always Get What You Want (41 page)

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The Editor’s Corner

Happy New Year, everyone! Have you made your resolution yet? I have—to read more Loveswept romance—and maybe we can make it your New Year’s resolution too? Take a look at some our fabulous January new releases…

New York Times
bestselling author Patricia Rosemoor kicks off the month with a bad boy Loveswept debut,
Dangerous,
the story of a driven female cop who teams up with an irresistible ex-con to bring a killer to justice—and discovers that breaking the rules is hotter on the wrong side of the law; followed by a Rolling Stones–ins
pired romance,
Can’t Always Get What You Want
, a deeply romantic and uplifting debut novel from Chelsey Krause about losing everything you thought you wanted—and getting exactly what you need. Claudia Connor follows up her heartfelt debut,
Worth the Fall
, with a novel about Matt’s brother, Stephen—and when a McKinney brother falls in love, powerful emotion and overwhelming desire are never far behind. Don’t miss
Worth the Risk
. Then Cecy Robson’s
Once Loved
continues the Shattered Past series—he’s the campus golden boy. She’s picking up the pieces of her broken past. But in this scorching novel of second chances, their differences only make their connection more explosive. Katie Rose’s Boys of Summer series returns for a delicious double-header, with the story of total opposites who are drawn to each other like moths to a flame in
Too Hot to Handle
. And welcome to the Devil’s Den series, written by a Loveswept debut author, Violetta Rand, who invites us to a Texas strip club where the air is heavy with desire—and sometimes dreams come true:
Surrender
.

Make Loveswept your 2015 romance resolution and start your New Year off right—you’ll have something new each month to voraciously devour. Yum!

~Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

Read on for a sneak peek at

Once Loved

by Cecy Robson

Available from Loveswept

I abandoned the locker room in a rush. I’d barely spoken to anyone on my crew team, and while no one had said anything directly to me, I caught every stare, every whisper. Despite the dean’s best efforts, word had spread that the man arrested the previous day was my father. I wanted to scream. Carlos had meant to humiliate me, and he’d succeeded. Next to his fists, humiliation was his favorite weapon.

My duffel bag slapped against my back as I hurried through the athletics center, my steps slowing as I passed a group of soccer players. “Isn’t that Lety Tres Santos?” the girl in the center asked her teammates. “The one whose tripped-out father beat up the campus police?”

I whirled around. “Yup. That’s me.” They exchanged stunned glances. They hadn’t expected me to respond and weren’t prepared for my reaction. “Anything else you want to know?”

The three of them shut their mouths. It was easy for them to talk. Their fathers hadn’t arrived out of control. Their fathers weren’t ex-cons in and out of jail. And their fathers hadn’t spent a lifetime hurting them. I couldn’t say the same.

Carlos had arrived on campus only one other time, demanding money for drugs. If there hadn’t been witnesses, he would’ve struck me for denying him. My father was many things: an addict, bipolar, and an all-around asshole. Stupid was not one of his traits. So he’d left, but not before calling me a bitch in front of my friends.

One of the other girls shrugged. “Melody didn’t mean anything by it,” she said. “She was just asking.”

“There are better things to ask about,” I responded.

I stormed away. My mind insisted I should let the comments and attention roll off my back. Saint Jude’s was a small private college with a little more than two thousand students living on campus. Word traveled fast, and when the rest of the students arrived in two days’ time, it would travel even faster. But eventually, everyone would forget.

Except maybe me.

I pushed open the glass doors that led out of the athletics center. Two girls walking toward the building with volleyballs tucked under their arms saw me as I stepped out. One motioned to me with a jerk of her chin and spoke quietly to her friend.

Gee, I wonder what they’re talking about?

I continued forward without another glance their way. I couldn’t fight everyone in the world, it was too damn exhausting. So I cut left in the direction of the soccer field, where a few players remained. Although I wasn’t anywhere near them, they stopped kicking the ball to watch me as I passed. Shame made me want to cower and lower my head. Instead I forced my chin up. I was a tough Philly girl, after all, even though I was all but sobbing on the inside.

I trained my eyes ahead, toward where the athletics fields ended and cross-country trails leading into the woods began. If I could just make it there, I’d find some solace from the whispers and judgmental stares. At least, that was what I’d hoped.

The late August breeze rustled the leaves in the trees just as I stepped onto the trail, fanning my long dark hair around me. I breathed in deep, enjoying the fresh air and the quiet surroundings. Despite the drama of the previous day and the negative attention it had brought me, I really loved it here and preferred the campus’s remote location to Philly’s loud streets and obnoxious hustle.

Located in a small town just outside Allentown, Saint Jude’s was surrounded by acres of one of two things: woods or cornfields. The cross-country trails weaving through the woods served the athletes for one hell of an endurance run, and underage drinkers for a place to hold their illegal keg parties. You could be spun out of your mind, but if you followed any path, it would lead you out to the sports fields or to the main road. The cornfields were mostly used for hooking up or for freshman initiation, where first-year students streaked through the tall stalks in exchange for five-dollar T-shirts.

I shouldn’t have grinned, considering my day, except that I did. The cornfield streak was the first time Brody and I had seen each other naked. And yeah, we still wore our five-dollar T-shirts.

My smile faded. Brody, God,
Brody
. What was I going to do about him? He was sweet, and smart, and good to me. But I wasn’t good for him, even though I really wanted to be.

My anxious steps slowed the more I thought of him. We’d met in chemistry class at the beginning of our freshman year. He introduced himself as only Brody could, by nailing me in the head with a crumpled ball of paper. I’d glared at him over my shoulder. “Do that again, and I’ll kick your ass, pretty boy,” I’d warned.

He’d smirked. “You think I’m pretty?”

No, I think you’re hotter than Alex Pettyfer standing in hell,
I didn’t say. Instead, “Pretty damn obnoxious” was my response. I’d turned around when the prof stepped into the lecture hall, stiffening when I heard paper crumpling behind me. I’d booted my laptop, certain he wouldn’t have the stones, when another ball of paper bounced off my head. Like a knee-jerk reaction, I flung my chemistry book at him. Brody caught it before it struck him in the ribs. Instead of getting pissed, he’d laughed and offered me a ride after class.

We’d spent the remainder of the year practically inseparable, but it wasn’t until the start of the next semester that we became more than close friends. What sucked was that it didn’t last.

Thanks to Carlos, again.

My two-hour crew practice had been brutal, but it was the thoughts of my family that left me suddenly tired. I left the trail after another five minutes of walking and crossed the road. I wasn’t ready to head back to my room, so I veered into the small reflection garden at the top of the hill. I took a seat on one of the wooden benches, allowing my duffel bag to fall onto the gravel walkway. I liked it here and visited often. It provided me with a sense of calm I’d always craved as a child. Simple, easy, not something I had to seek beneath my bed when I was scared.

This time, the peace didn’t last, and I wasn’t alone for long. A parade of steps thundered to my left. I glanced up and saw the members of our lacrosse team jogging toward me on their way to the trails. They all ran shirtless except for Brody. As co-captain, he raced in the lead alongside his friend Logan.

Lacrosse wouldn’t start until next semester. But Saint Jude’s had won the Division III NCAA championship the last two years. The coach planned to keep the title and made them train long before their first game took place.

Brody’s gaze flickered when he saw me. My body tensed. I hadn’t been prepared to see him, but I shouldn’t have been so shocked. The team ran the campus’s perimeter at the end of each practice and finished where the cross-country trails opened to the sports fields.

He slowed to a stop. His teammates for the most part continued without him, tossing me a glance before crossing the road and disappearing into the trails. The few who remained watched me carefully. “Bro, come on,” Isaac Parker urged.

“I’ll catch you guys later.” Brody joined me at the bench, placing one foot on the seat to stretch. “Hey, Lety.”

Isaac spoke to Brody like I wasn’t even there. “You sure you want to do this? Her dad’s pretty fucked up.”

Brody rose to his full height. “So’s anyone caught jerking off to cartoons while wearing pink underwear.” He shrugged. “But I still hang with you.”

A couple of the guys laughed out loud as Isaac’s face deepened to red. Brody smirked. “No worries, Isaac. You’re not the first guy to― Wait, never mind. You probably are. Still, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, dude. You just keep doing your thing―and maybe next time try old episodes of
Baywatch
instead of cartoons. It might be less creepy.”

Isaac backed away, scowling, before taking off with the rest of the team behind him. “Later, Lety,” Logan called with a wave.

“Later,” I said, although likely too quiet for Logan to hear. Brody plopped down on the bench beside me. I pulled at the edges of my shorts; it was better than facing him. “Thanks.”