Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Reid Hemsworth is still a relatively new face in the racing world but hasn’t wasted any time making a name for himself. No stranger to standing on the podium, Reid’s success isn’t all champagne showers and post-race parties. He may be considered a rising star in the sport, but to his brother, Lance, Reid stole his chance at racing glory and that can never be forgiven.
Lara Candlish grew up with the Hemsworth brothers, the three of them wasting away the hours of their youth riding waves together in the Australian surf. But as they got older and Reid’s career started to take off, their trio splintered under the weight of Lance’s jealousy. In the end, one brother had the career and one got the girl, but they both wanted what the other had.
When Lara finds herself trapped in an increasingly volatile relationship, she turns to the one man she knows she can trust above anyone else—Reid. Harboring deep feelings for much of his life, Reid doesn’t hesitate to bring Lara into his inner circle to provide her with the safety that she needs, no matter how much that might infuriate his brother. Their forced proximity quickly uncovers feelings he thought he’d left behind and Reid is prepared to act on them. But when his brother finds out that Reid now has the career and the girl, the situation goes from bad to worse.
As the relationship between Reid and Lara intensifies, so does the danger, and one truth becomes abundantly clear. Reid will stop at nothing to protect the one thing he now knows he can never live without—Lara
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Reid
Tonight, I’m standing in the middle of a private rooftop party in downtown Melbourne, surrounded by glittering city lights, champagne flutes and a crowd that reeks of wealth, ambition and the desperate need to be seen. I’m Australian—born and raised in Torquay—but Melbourne is my favorite city. It pulses with a kind of effortless cool that speaks to me. It’s my second full season on the FI circuit and the third race of the season is just three days away. The cars are faster in FI and so are the social events. This is a time for the drivers to mingle with the corporate sponsors and it’s not a part of the job I mind. I’m a natural extrovert and enjoy talking to people.
Of course, you have to balance that with keeping your focus sharp because truly… winning races is the best PR move anyway.
The city has come alive with Formula racing fever. Banners for the Melbourne Global Prix drape across every corner and the streets are filled with fans wearing their favorite team gear. We start practice rounds day after tomorrow and I’m already getting antsy, my nerves humming like a live wire. It’s a beautiful and terrible sensation all at once, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The sponsor party is in full swing, and I’m scanning for my buddy Carlos Moreno. He races for Union Jack Motorsports based in London and is about the nicest guy you could ever hope to know. He’s also quick-witted and funny… the kind of guy everyone considers a brother. Since I moved up to FI last season, we’ve become pretty tight, and he’s the person I tend to hang with during our downtime.
“Reid Hemsworth. There you are.”
A hand covers my arm—an elegantly manicured one covered in gemstone rings. I turn slowly to find a woman in a slinky silver cocktail dress with a neckline that plunges almost to her navel. The material clings to her like it was sprayed on and leaves nothing to the imagination. Blond hair in waves over one shoulder. Stiletto heels that make her nearly my height. She’s undeniably gorgeous and I’d have to be dead not to notice that.
I give her a welcoming smile because I assume she’s the guest of some important VIP or an actual VIP herself. “Hello.”
She squeezes my arm and slides closer than necessary. I peg her accent as Scandinavian. “I’ve been looking for you,” she says, lips brushing dangerously close to my cheek. “We didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation in Monza last year.”
I blink, any memory of her escaping me. Yes, she’s stunning in a way that most women couldn’t touch, but for the life of me, I can’t remember her. The Monza Global Prix was months ago.
She can tell I don’t recognize her, and she says, “My father owns Quantrex.”
Shit, right. One of the sponsors of Matterhorn FI, and I have a vague recollection of her being quite handsy when we met in Monza.
“Of course,” I say, offering a polite smile and stepping back just enough to break her hold. “Good to see you again.”
“You look delicious tonight.” Her eyes scan me openly, unapologetically. “Got plans after this? We could go to my suite for a drink.”
Normally, I’d flirt back. I’d have already ordered us both another round to see where the night might go. I mean, why would I pass up this offer? And why the hell did I pass it up in Monza? The best I can come up with is an attack of conscience—maybe it’s a conflict of interest. Her father is a sponsor for Matterhorn, and I’m one of two Matterhorn drivers.
Regardless, I’m not going there or anywhere. Not tonight. I’m too close to the race and I won’t let anything deter my focus.
I glance over her shoulder, scanning for a way out—and then spot exactly who I need.
“Gunner!” I call, loud enough over the music that he can hear me from where he’s standing at the bar.
My teammate, Gunner James, looks at me and then his gaze lands on the woman beside me. His eyes gleam and he makes his way over. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and has that easygoing American charisma that makes people instantly like him. He’s been with Matterhorn FI a few years longer than me. He’s fast, disciplined, and still rides the line between cocky and humble better than most.
As he approaches, I turn to the woman. “Have you met Gunner James? He’s one of the sharpest drivers on the grid.”
Her eyes shift with interest. “Is that so?”
Gunner arrives just in time. “What’s up?” he asks, grinning like he already knows I’m trying to escape.
I clap him on the shoulder. “Just making introductions. Gunner, this is… sorry, your name is slipping me at the moment.”
“Brita,” she says, her tone flirty and aloof at the same time.