Sunday Snippet

 

This weeks snippet is from The Sixth Chukker, the final book in the polo series. All three novels area free to read with your Kindle Unlimited subscription. You can purchase THE SIXTH CHUKKER at Amazon if you're caught up with the other two books, or start with FIRE HORSE and keep on going.  The guys on the covers created by Natasha Snow are Preston, Ned, and Konrad in their prime. I hope you'll give this series a try. 

Blurb:

Retired polo players Preston Fawkes and Konrad Schnell have finally found the happiness that eluded them for years. Their stud farm is a big success, and their marriage couldn’t be healthier. Unfortunately, this idyllic life is disrupted by several unexpected sources.

Paloma, Preston’s twenty-one-year-old daughter, is determined to be a 10 goal player before she turns thirty. Bandi, Konrad’s son, dreams of starting a family with his husband, Ned Temple. Paloma offers to surrogate if her father and stepfather come out of retirement and team up with her for one season.

Preston and Konrad would do anything to make their children happy, but they’re confronted with a stumbling block. Trauma specialist Dr. Rayne Carlisle refuses to sign off on the necessary paperwork unless Preston agrees to his outrageous demands.

Caught between the proverbial rock and hard place, Preston and Konrad deal with disgruntled former lovers, demanding children, and old enemies in this sequel to Ride-Off.

 

Snippet

The Sixth Chukker

Mickie B. Ashling

Copyright 2021

The phone vibrated against Paloma’s breast, and she cursed in two languages, hoping that would make it stop. When it continued to buzz, she realized she’d fallen asleep on top of it, and it lay trapped between her right breast and the mattress. The heavy drapes drawn across the windows of the hotel room made it impossible to gauge the time, but she had a feeling it was too early. She’d passed out with her makeup still intact, and her eyelids were glued shut, thanks to waterproof mascara, a bitch to remove during the best of times. Great. Her teeth felt disgustingly furry, and she would have killed for a toothbrush but knew it was a pipe dream considering this wasn’t even her room.

Shoving naked body parts away, she scooted closer to the bed’s edge in a flurry of hands and feet. At least her phone had stopped vibrating, and she could concentrate on the immediate task of trying to figure out who had fallen asleep in his comfy spot between her legs, scratchy face pressed flat against her inner thigh. Too bad she couldn’t remember if he was any good or not. Peering down to see if she recognized the guy, she cringed when she realized she’d ended up in bed with Aldo, one of her closest Argentinian friends. They’d been celebrating his graduation from NYU at the bar downstairs and had somehow managed to land in his bed at the luxurious Plaza Hotel.

Desperate to get out before he woke up and turned their encounter into something more meaningful than sex, she slid out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. After doing her business, she tiptoed back into the room to find her clothes. She spied her pink bra and thong, but her black dress was nowhere in sight. Where in hell could it have gone? She looked underneath the bed and in the closet and came up empty. She went back to the bathroom and looked behind the door and in the tub, drawing a blank. Shit… where in the hell was her dress?

Grabbing her phone, she texted Jeremy, her half brother’s lover, who also happened to be her BFF.

COME RESCUE ME. CAN’T FIND MY CLOTHES.

A few seconds later, she got a reply.

WTF???

SERIOUSLY. HAD A DRESS AND NOW I DON’T???? COME GET ME AT THE PLAZA. BRING CLOTHES. RM 1402

LOOK UNDER THE BED

DID THAT

DAFUCK??

RIGHT?

LOOK AGAIN!!!!

Paloma stared at the phone incredulously. What was wrong with this picture? Didn’t Jeremy understand she’d already looked everywhere? It was most likely Sasha telling him to ignore her plea. Stupid boys. She decided to put them out of their misery and take care of the problem herself.

NEVER MIND!

DUMBASS.

LUV U 2.

She tiptoed back into the bedroom, grateful to hear the sounds of snoring from the bed. Having to face Aldo sober was bad enough, but standing in the center of the room in underwear and nothing else went beyond the morning walk of shame. This was a complete disaster.

In the bathroom, she picked up the house phone and asked to be connected to the gift shop. Gracias a dios that Aldo had the money to afford a five-star hotel. When she explained her predicament and gave them her size and credit card number, she was assured that a suitable dress would be delivered immediately.

In ten minutes, there was a knock on the door, and she opened it a fraction, snaked out her hand, grabbed the proffered hanger, and mumbled her thanks. She slipped the fashionable shift over her head, combed her unruly black mane with her fingers, grabbed her tiny purse, and walked out the door.

She took a cab back to her apartment, which was one floor down from Sasha’s place. In the cab, she finally checked her missed calls and saw the one from Bandi. Hitting Call before she could change her mind, she listened to it ring a couple of times before he answered.

“You called,” she said without preamble.

“Hey… we need to talk.”

“What about?”