Dear Internet Family,
I'm super excited to reveal the debut novel Another Chance by Wuraola. It's now available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.
The Blurb of Another Chance
The day Zak Lucas walks back into the Deanna's life, her luck turns for the worse. Her roommate abandons her, she can't meet her rent, and she owes this handsome stranger big time. She's hit rock bottom, so she definitely has no choice in the matter when Zak offers her a lifeline.Zak Lucas is an NBA superstar and there are three things he doesn't mess around with: his family, loyalty and money. Deanna messed with all three. Still she attracts him like a bee to honey.
She betrayed him once, will she do it again?
A second chance contemporary romance. This is a novella at 16,000 words.
Amazon UK: http://amzn.eu/g79tgiL
Amazon US: http://a.co/8Imgwnr
Happy Reading
Anna xxx
Chapter One Extract
The transfer to the Forechester Fire Spurs was one of the best moves in Zak’s career, but he hated the team's informal induction and initiation process. Visiting strip joints on the main stretch wasn’t his thing, but team bonding was important.
Abel Gentleman’s Club was popping, for a quiet Wednesday night. It was a famed upscale establishment full of hustlers, rich ballers, and businessmen. Zak and five of his teammates were led to a private corner with a great view of the centre stage by a barely clad waitress whose fake breasts jiggled for attention.
"If you need anything, just let me know," she cooed as she seated them, her eyes firmly on Zak. Used to the female attention his looks attracted, Zak ignored her and sat.
One of his teammates, Wayne, whistled and pushed five hundred-dollar bills into her bra. She grinned and, sensing Zak was not interested, focused on Wayne. "Thanks, just let me know and...." She let the words hang and walked away, swishing her ass like mad. A few of her co-workers gave her envious looks.
It took all of Zak’s strength not to walk out. He hated strip clubs with a passion, but his sports agent had told him going to Fire Spurs was a fresh start and he needed to get along with his teammates. He had the reputation of being arrogant and keeping to himself off the court. But Zak viewed the game as a job. He was there to deliver on-court. Off-court was strictly his own business. However, he’d conceded this time, agreeing to follow his agent's advice and socialise.
Another waitress came up and whispered in his ear. "Do you want a private dance?"
He froze and wondered again whether this was a price he was willing to pay for team bonding. Didn't he turn up on time to training? He shook his head, but to not spoil the mood he pulled out his wallet and peeled out a thousand in hundreds and tucked the bills into the side of her thong. "Later," he told her. "I'm here to chill with my boys."
The men hooted when they saw him put the money in her thong and encouraged him to get a dance, but the stripper took a step back. After all, it was a thousand dollars for nothing, and she knew when a client was paying her to leave.
The music changed, and several spotlights focused on a small raised stage. Zak looked around and saw that everyone's eyes were focused there. He just hoped it wasn't a lewd nude show.
Paul leaned forward. "This is great stuff. This chick is...."
The PA system boomed out, cutting off Paul. "High rollers, ballers, gents, and the few ladies. A few things for tonight. Forechester's Fire Spurs are in the house! We hope the NBA playoffs are in the bag!" All attention focused in their direction, and people cheered and hooted.
Zak wanted to disappear and was about to slip out when another announcement was made.
"Now, for our star dancer. Model. Reality show superstar of 'Models, not Bitches.' Miss. Deanna. Jones."
Deanna Jones? That was impossible. He sank back into the chair again.
The applause was deafening, and bills were thrown at the stage, though Zak noticed they were mostly ones and fives. He took a breath, noticing his body was tensing up.
That name brought back memories that Zak wanted to forget. He’d never thought when he encountered her again it would be in a seedy strip joint, with all these men ogling her. An unfamiliar emotion stirred within him. He realised it was jealousy. And anger.
She strutted out on stage, dressed in a cheap red glittery mini dress with fussy straps. Her long legs accentuated in clear PVC sky-high platform heels.
Deanna still looked good. He wasn't sure whether he should watch her strip but realised she was performing a mixture of pole dancing and burlesque moves. She gyrated and twisted so much he wanted to rip off her the stage and hide her from the leering patrons.
A man made a grab for her, and Zak was about to jump out of his seat when security grabbed the offender and threw him out.
"You got it bad, huh," observed Wayne. "So have most of the cats in here. It's a pity this happens when these reality stars don't make plans for the future."
Zak stared at Paul. Was he that obvious? "Yeah, I guess she's doing a great job," he said smoothly, he hoped, though his heart was racing. She finished her dance to resounding applause, and he wondered why she was there.
She smiled and gave a bow, then gazed directly his way. Their eyes locked, and Zak saw a flash of vulnerability before she looked away. He was sure she’d recognised him.
He told his teammates he had to make a call, then rose and went outside. When a few fans asked for his autograph and to take photos with him, he obliged.
For the first time in a long time, Zak wasn't really sure what to do. Let the past remain the past, and forget he’d seen her? But Zak wasn't like that. Deanna Jones was a woman who owed him.
It was time to collect.
Zak could get into lots of places by being a popular NBA player, and when that failed, money talked. He slipped the bouncer a few hundred and then, at the bouncer’s requested, called the man’s father, who was a Forechester Fire Spurs superfan. Humbled by the old man's praise, he gave the bouncer a number to call for get free tickets to a game.
The hardened bouncer forced Zak to take back the tip. "That is priceless. Please, take it back. My old man always thought me a loser for doing this job and it's the first time I gave him something money can't buy."
Backstage was worse than the club. It smelled of stale sweat and perfume. The bouncer stopped outside the door labelled "Miss Deanna Jones" and rapped on it. "Miss Jones? Miss Jones, someone here to see you."
"Okay, just give me a second to get decent."
Her voice sent a thrill of excitement through Zak, and he wondered again whether doing this was the right thing.
The door swung open, revealing Deanna in her dressing gown. She looked apprehensive, which the bouncer noticed. "You okay, Miss Jones?"
Deanna nodded, slowly. Zak Lucas. She thought she'd recognised him but hadn’t been sure. It had been a very long time. The mood shifted.
"You want me to stay?" the bouncer asked, sensing there might be trouble. His job was to keep the girls safe, even from NBA superstars.
"Deanna?" Zak asked. "Do you have a minute?"
She nodded, opened her door wider, and stood aside. "It's okay, Twister, we know each other...."
"I'll stay outside, just in case," said the bouncer, staring at Zak with suspicion. "Holler if you need me."
"Really, Twister, go be at your station. Me and Mr Lucas have history and all that...." She let her words linger in the air. She could only imagine the gossip that would follow. But then, most of the girls in the club had rich ballers or rappers as boyfriends. Abel was an exclusive and classy gentleman's club.
The dressing room looked tiny with Zak inside. She pulled the door shut and stared at him. The rawness in his eyes made her tremble. It was still there. The passion. Her heart somersaulted, and she leaned against the door for support. "So, what can I do for you, Mr Lucas? " It came out a lot breathier than she’d wanted it to.
"Mr Lucas? I'm sure you can do better than that, Deanna."
It took all Zak had to stop from taking her into his arms and kissing her. The air was charged with electricity. Years had done nothing to dim the spark. He took a step closer to her. "You owe me."
She tilted her head up, then walked to her dressing table and sat looking in the mirror. Her eyes met the reflection of his eyes. "I...," she faltered on her words. "I don't know what you mean."
Zak looked with disdain at the messy room. The dressing table was covered with make-up cases. A broken chair leaned against the wall in the corner. Only half the lights around the mirror were lit. Compared with the clients' area, it was a dump.
"Eight years ago, you, eighty grand of my casino winnings, a platinum chain, and my Rolex disappeared from a Vegas hotel." He paused. "I figured it was a setup, probably by your pimp. Is he the one pimping you in this joint?"
Her head snapped up. That hurt her, cutting more deeply than she’d thought it would. It had been over eight years ago, and she’d had no idea that much was taken to save Jason, her brother. Jason had been kidnapped by a gang, who’d used her to get to Zak. Something told her there was no point denying it to him anymore. "I can pay back the money if you give me time."
Zak laughed. "Time? You have twenty-four hours before I call the cops." He pulled out a card. "And press charges."
"I can't afford that!"
Zak put his hand under her chin and leaned so close his breath scorched her skin. "Okay, I’ll be fair, because you probably don't make that in a night. So, one week. Call me, and then we’re even. Or else I'll get the cops involved."
Amazon UK: http://amzn.eu/g79tgiL
Amazon US: http://a.co/8Imgwnr
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