Possessive Coach – The Lofthouse Read online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)

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Possessive Coach - The Lofthouse

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

B.B. Hamel

Book Information:

She’s the perfect risk.
I first meet gorgeous Chloe when she’s getting harassed by a roided-up a-hole with more muscles than brains. I knock him out and make sure she gets home safe.
Turns out, that sweatstain excuse of a man is my star quarterback.
Now he’s out for a little revenge, and he’s using Chloe against me.
I’m not about to let her get hurt. She’s a beautiful little thing with long legs and a big heart. I can’t help myself when she’s around, and a little taste turns into a lot more.
It doesn’t take me long to realize I want to make Chloe all mine, even if that’s the most dangerous thing I could do.
I won’t back down and I won’t give up until she’s wearing my ring and I’ve possessed every inch of her.
****This is the end! The final Lofthouse book! David Fyall, cousin of the main Lofthouse family, gets his story and his love. Good thing he’ll do anything for his girl, because a lot goes wrong… but even more goes right. This is a steamy full length novel with no cheating, no cliffhanger, and an HEA guaranteed. Enjoy it! XO BB
Books by Author:

B.B. Hamel



Warm wind blows down the dark red and brown brick path as I head toward the athletics building.

It’s late and the campus is empty and quiet as I walk past a grouping of low bushes outside of the administration building. The building’s columns are white and thick, and spotlights shine on them from the ground. I can taste the salt and smell the ocean on the air, and I let a smile slip across my lips. There’s nothing like walking on campus when it’s empty like this, with the smell of the sea not far away and the sound of the soft breeze moving through the immaculate green shrubbery.

In just a few minutes, I’d be tucked away in my humid little closet of an office, watching football game tape over and over again, my mind transported back to those moments, those plays. But right now, I feel like I can breathe.

I turn a corner and slow my walk, the moment drifting away. I frown as my eyes drift over toward another copse of tall, square bushes near the admin building’s steps, away from the spotlights. I spot a pair of students tucked just beside the branches, a large boy with a black backpack and a much smaller girl, pale with wide eyes.

It looks like they’re arguing. I glance around and don’t spot anyone else. The only other sound is the wind, and the cool, dry California air. For some reason, I come to a stop and watch the pair of them, the game tape forgotten, my little closet office no longer the object of my mental attention. I’m not sure what makes me pay so much attention to them, but I stand there, staring and tense.

Maybe it’s because the guy’s frame looks familiar. He’s tall and broad, and his mop of blond hair falls gracefully back over his head. He’s wearing a polo shirt and some gray shorts with dark blue boat shoes. The backpack looks like it’s empty, deflated and hanging from his shoulders. He looks like most of the guys that go to this school, except he’s bigger and more muscular by far.

But if I’m honest with myself, it’s the girl that makes me pause. I recognize her after a moment. I’ve seen her around the athletics department a few times, although I’m not sure what her role is. She has long, dark hair, wide blue eyes, and full pale lips. She’s beautiful in a quiet and understated kind of way, totally unlike the blonde and sporty tanned girls that tend to go to this school. Those girls spend all their time at the nearby beach, but the brunette standing twenty feet away looks like she spends all her time tucked away in the back corner of some moth-eaten library reading obscure French literature.

She takes a step back and I catch the sound of a raised voice. The guy sounds angry as he moves closer to her, closing their gap. His body is tense and there’s real fear in her eyes. I realize this is more than just a simple argument and start walking toward the pair, my heart beating hard in my chest.

I start to make sense of what they’re saying. “You fucking lied to me,” the guy growls at her, and I know that voice. I frown a little bit, head tilted to one side. “You said you fucking liked it.”

“Erik, come on,” the girl answers. “I’m just not… I don’t know. I’m not interested, okay? You’re cool and all, just stop.”


That voice, that frame. I didn’t recognize him at first because I’m not used to seeing him out of his uniform. But as soon as I hear that name, it clicks in my head.

Erik Pacific, star quarterback of the California University Tigers.

He takes a step toward the girl again and reaches out. She jerks away and says something sharp. Erik growls and moves toward her again, pushing her backward. She staggers away, nearly falls. She throws her hands out, defending herself, as Erik grabs her wrist and twists it. She cries out, fear in her voice, and Erik says something low and angry, getting closer to her, twisting her wrist tighter.

I don’t hesitate. As soon as he touches her, I’m moving. All my reservations and confusion are gone, replaced with white-hot anger.

I’m on Erik in a second. I grab his shoulder and shove him away from the girl. I whip my fist into his jaw, knocking him backward. Erik is so shocked that he stumbles away from me, despite being bigger and stronger, but I’m not about to back down. I hit him again in the stomach and throw him to the concrete. His eyes show fear as I kick him in the gut, doubling him over.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”