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Fighting for Keeps
Jennifer Snow
He's kryptonite. And she needs all her strength… Noah Parks is the ridiculously gorgeous, motorcycle-riding, cage-match-fighting equivalent of kryptonite for Lindsay Harper. And she's going to need every last ounce of her strength now that she's the legal guardian of her brother's five orphaned children. For the sake of her new family, it's time to give up her carefree single ways. Stop being the cool aunt and become a parent. And fight this crazy attraction to Noah. Sure, there's a side of him she can't help falling for…the one who volunteers as a firefighter and helps at-risk youth. The irresistibly kind and caring side. But she is a nurse, after all. She can't love an MMA fighter, a man she regularly has to scan for physical trauma… Can she?
He’s kryptonite. And she needs all her strength...
Noah Parks is the ridiculously gorgeous, motorcycle-riding, cage-match-fighting equivalent of kryptonite for Lindsay Harper. And she’s going to need every last ounce of her strength now that she’s the legal guardian of her brother’s five orphaned children. For the sake of her new family, it’s time to give up her carefree single ways. Stop being the cool aunt and become a parent. And fight this crazy attraction to Noah. Sure, there’s a side of him she can’t help falling for...the one who volunteers as a firefighter and helps at-risk youth. The irresistibly kind and caring side. But she is a nurse, after all. She can’t love an MMA fighter, a man she regularly has to scan for physical trauma... Can she?
“I wanted to ask you something.”
Lindsey waited.
He was silent.
“Go ahead,” she prodded.
“I was wondering if you would have dinner with me tonight.”
Seriously? The guy was wearing a hospital gown and booties and had half his body inside an MRI machine, and he was asking her out? Clearly the relaxation meds she’d given him were working. She hesitated. She wasn’t sure of Noah’s exact age, but she suspected he was at least four or five years younger than she, and given his chosen career, he wasn’t even on her radar of potential men to date. A fighter who put constant stress on his body and mind was not someone she would consider as a life partner—and at thirty-five, she thought maybe it was time to start taking relationships seriously.
“I have to work.”
Dear Reader (#ulink_a6194218-d66f-5632-a00a-7582fe747b42),
Who doesn’t love a man whose beautiful, compassionate inside matches his gorgeous exterior? In book five of the Brookhollow series, Lindsey Harper is struggling with just that—feelings she has for a man she knows she shouldn’t fall in love with.
But Noah Parks makes resisting him so difficult, with his irresistible smile (and abs) and his kind heart. And it doesn’t help matters that he simply won’t take no for an answer.
Fighting for Keeps is a story I’ve wanted to write for a long time. A story about two people with two very different ideas about MMA fighting and how a compromise could ever be reached...if it actually could.
Being the fifth book in my Brookhollow series, it was a tough one to write. Having to say goodbye to two characters that I’ve grown to love as friends to the hero/heroines in these books was heartbreaking, but life is about loss, love, second chances and facing adversity. Through the tragic loss in this story, Lindsey gains her own redemption and happy-ever-after love story.
I hope this story makes you laugh, cry and root for Lindsey and Noah and their chance at love.
xo
Jennifer
Fighting for Keeps
Jennifer Snow
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JENNIFER SNOW lives in Edmonton, Alberta, with her husband and four-year-old son. She is a member of the Writers Guild of Alberta, the Romance Writers of America, the Canadian Author Association and shewrites.org. She is also a regular blogger on the Mills & Boon Heartwarming Authors site and is a contributing author to Mslexia, WestWord magazine and RWR. Her 2013 holiday romance, The Trouble with Mistletoe, was a finalist in the 2014 Golden Quill contest and the Heart of Denver Aspen Gold contest. More information can be found on her website, jennifersnowauthor.com (http://www.jennifersnowauthor.com).
For all of the step-parents out there who love unconditionally, opening their hearts and their arms to children who need them. Dad (Robert) and Reagan—twice in my life I’ve been fortunate enough to reap the benefits of such compassion and selflessness, and I can’t thank you both enough!
Acknowledgments (#ulink_cb35a086-ce6a-518a-a2fc-48b7fbba3f30)
Thank you to Stephany Evans, whose happy faces on my manuscripts sometimes look like little squares, but I know what you mean. Thank you to my amazing editor, Victoria Curran, whose insight always makes the book stronger. A big thank-you to Frontier College, which invited me to host their conference on Youth and the Criminal Justice System—the stories I heard that day inspired a big part of this book. And thanks to MMA athletes everywhere for the entertaining fights and the dedication you put into your careers.
Contents
Cover (#u1211301b-7613-5f6b-a938-21d2413ea261)
Back Cover Text (#uf3091287-09c6-5c24-ab5c-d11eb9fb7184)
Introduction (#u884612c9-5f59-5967-b691-e866adbecb28)
Dear Reader (#ulink_012844a2-5b19-5987-a209-99a1a0de0142)
Title Page (#uc893910e-9d9d-5221-b335-37ad265ce195)
About the Author (#u80d96ef5-7405-5594-80a1-8f6a1f07d42b)
Dedication (#ua71ab728-49cb-5235-8c62-0d2db55cd0dd)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_cb35a086-ce6a-518a-a2fc-48b7fbba3f30)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_75fc81d7-1ebf-508a-8a61-febf1a6e0ff2)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_a6c582e0-5db3-5383-80e5-af6a8e447858)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_960d8af9-5ea8-53a8-be53-386f1f49acdd)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_4d4cf62a-6e92-5d4c-90f6-b69f2f475d0f)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_bb2d794b-436d-5a8d-bf0a-2f34964fad5f)
10 years earlier...not that Lindsay Harper remembers
WHEN LINDSAY TOOK the microphone from Ben Walker, her brother’s best man, there was a collective groan throughout the Brookhollow community center, which was elegantly decorated for the event. The wedding guests had already sat through the slightly slurred speech the maid of honor had delivered moments before, filled with embarrassing stories about her kid brother. “Excuse me...” she said into the microphone, tapping it. “Is this thing on?” She laughed as she held the microphone too close to her lips.
“Lindsay, everyone loved your speech...now it’s my turn,” the best man said.
But she moved the microphone out of his reach and took several steps toward the head table, tripping over the dangling cord as she went in her four-inch heels.
Nathan’s smile had faded and his new wife’s was forced.
“When my brother told me he was going to propose to Ra...Rachel—” she winked at her “—I was jealous.”
Leave it to Lindsay to make her brother’s special day about her in some way. It wasn’t enough that she’d shortened the maid-of-honor dress to way above the knee—and whether or not she was wearing underwear was still a debate among the table of single men in the corner of the room—or that she’d been ten minutes late to the ceremony and was now questionably sober at that early hour.
Unfortunately it didn’t seem as if there was any stopping the train wreck about to happen.
“I mean, he is two years younger than me,” she continued. “Aren’t I supposed to get married first? After all, I am older.”
Yes, she’d mentioned that.
“Lindsay, I think we need to move this along,” said Jim Bishop, the master of ceremony, reaching for the microphone.
“Stop it,” she said, smacking his hand away. She moved closer to the head table. “But then it all made sense—why this we...wedding was ha...happening so quickly.”
Rachel’s eyes widened and Nathan shot his new bride a questioning look.
Lindsay turned and pointed at Rachel. “I mean, Rachel wanted to look skinny in her wedding photos...and a baby bump sure wouldn’t have worked in that dress, would it, Rach?” She smiled at her new sister-in-law.
Nathan’s mouth gaped. Both the groom and the bride’s mothers turned to glare at each other. Clearly neither had known. Rachel slumped in her chair, her cheeks glowing.
“You’re pregnant?” Nathan asked her.
Rachel couldn’t look up at her husband.
You could’ve heard a pin drop in the community center as everyone strained to hear what she would say.
“I was going to tell you later tonight...and everyone else at a later time, but...yes, I am,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She twisted her napkin in her fingers.
“Are you serious?” he asked, cupping his wife’s face.
The two sat there, frozen, staring into each other’s eyes. All the wedding guests leaned in, trying to decipher the moment.
And then Nathan kissed her, whispered something in her ear, and the pair burst into laughter.
The room erupted into applause as congratulations rang out and more champagne was opened in celebration.
The couple shared another kiss and the mothers-in-law hugged, despite it being no secret they weren’t fond of each other, and then went to hug the bride.
Lindsay leaned across the table to join the group hug, but her mother blocked her, so she stood, looking bored and annoyed.
Damage done and no longer in the spotlight, she brought the microphone to her lips again, though no one was really paying attention anymore.
“You’re welcome,” she said, raising her wineglass to the couple before passing out in a heap on the floor—and settling the bet in the corner.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_46075ce1-d571-5b1f-aa39-95a64bfdc700)
“I DON’T THINK this is necessary,” Noah Parks said, his eyes wide as he stared at the needle in her hand.
Tough guy was afraid of a needle. What a surprise, Lindsay thought, reaching for his arm. “Well, we do. The last time I slid you in the MRI without the sedative you almost broke the scanner, trying to get out.”
“The noise freaked me out,” he mumbled, shoving up the sleeve of the green hospital gown to allow her access to his arm.
And what an arm it was. At six feet and two hundred pounds of solid muscle, Noah was the definition of chiseled strength and athleticism.
Even though she was a professional—the head nurse of the clinic—Lindsay wasn’t oblivious to the effect his smooth, tanned biceps could have on a woman.
It was too bad he used that strength to beat the crap out of other men... That kind of ruined it for her.
She cleared her throat as she wiped the injection site with an alcohol swab. “That’s why we give you headphones.” The scan was painless but without the noise-canceling headphones, patients were often discomfited by the constant thumping and tapping.
She wrapped a rubber tourniquet around his arm and tapped his skin. A quick look at his expression revealed he was already nauseous. “I haven’t even poked you yet.”
He flinched and gripped the edge of the exam table a second later as the needle pierced the skin.
She shook her head. “You get punched in the face for a living and a tiny prick of a needle makes you woozy.” She steadied him. “I’ll leave the room for a moment to let you get settled. When you are ready, lie on the table, head pointed toward the machine—” She stopped. “You probably know the routine better than I do by now. I’ll knock before I come in.”
Picking up his medical file, she left the room and stood outside the door. Scanning his history, she sighed. Three MRIs this year so far. Luckily the magnetic resonance machines didn’t involve X-radiation, otherwise the frequency of these brain and tissue scans could be more detrimental than they were worth.
She didn’t understand why mixed-martial-arts fighters insisted on a career path that made it necessary to have their brains checked for signs of trauma before each fight. The clinic often saw fighters training at Extreme Athletics for their prefight medical clearance, but none as often as Noah. Three fights since January—what was the guy thinking?
She didn’t follow MMA, but even she knew three fights in six months were too frequent to be safe.
A glance toward the reception area revealed it was full. And she had to waste a half an hour of her time and everyone else’s on this scan. She shook her head as she placed Noah’s file on her desk.
Every day she cared for patients with injuries and diseases beyond their control. Patients who would love to be healthy and free of their medical issues.
And then there were guys like Noah—perfectly healthy guys who put their bodies in danger every time they went to work. She’d never understand the sport or the mentality of the men who competed in it.
Tapping once on the door, she let herself back into the room. In most city clinics, a technician performed the scans, but here in Brookhollow, the five nurses on staff had been trained to perform a variety of duties—operating the MRI machine was one of them.
“How do you feel?” she asked Noah. The sedative worked quickly in most cases, but with his body mass, she wanted to be sure of its effect.
