Two a day, p.1
Two a Day, page 1
Two A Day
Lauren Blakely
Contents
Copyright
Also By Lauren Blakely
About Two A Day
Author’s Note
Two A Day
From Lauren
Prologue
1. The Hottie Goes Kersplat
2. Don’t Put the Parrot Before the Unicycle
3. All the Innuendo
4. The Thing Is…
5. Terms of Engagement
6. One Horchata Latte for Me
7. Spank Me with a Taco
8. Naughty Little Goblins
9. My Hardship
10. A Vibe Thing
11. Your Mouth on My Innuendo
12. Harshing on Muffins
13. Just a Troublemaker
14. The Good Kind of Trouble
15. Teach Me
16. My Biggest Fan
17. The Proof Is in the Whac-A-Mole
18. His Sex Hack
19. The Gloat
20. How to Say Mastermind
21. Be Careful What You Wish For
22. A Clean Shave
23. His Bad Luck Charm
24. Rinse, Lather, Repeat
25. Thursday Afternoon Quarterback
26. The Real Streak
Epilogue
Another Epilogue
WORTH THE RISK
Also by Lauren Blakely
Contact
Copyright
Copyright © 2022 by Lauren Blakely
LaurenBlakely.com
Cover Design by © Kate Farlow
Photo: Vincent Chine photographer, Fabian Castro Model
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Also By Lauren Blakely
Big Rock Series
Big Rock
Mister O
Well Hung
Full Package
Joy Ride
Hard Wood
* * *
Happy Endings Series
Come Again
Shut Up and Kiss Me
Kismet
My Single-Versary
* * *
Ballers And Babes
Most Valuable Playboy
Most Likely to Score
A Wild Card Kiss
Two A Day
Plays Well With Others
* * *
Rules of Love Series
The Virgin Rule Book
The Virgin Game Plan
The Virgin Replay
The Virgin Scorecard
* * *
Hopelessly Bromantic Duet (MM)
Hopelessly Bromantic
Here Comes My Man
* * *
Men of Summer Series (MM)
Scoring With Him
Winning With Him
All In With Him
* * *
The Guys Who Got Away Series
Dear Sexy Ex-Boyfriend
The What If Guy
Thanks for Last Night
The Dream Guy Next Door
* * *
The Gift Series
The Engagement Gift
The Virgin Gift
The Decadent Gift
* * *
The Extravagant Series
One Night Only
One Exquisite Touch
My One-Week Husband
* * *
MM Standalone Novels
A Guy Walks Into My Bar
One Time Only
The Bromance Zone
The Best Men (Co-written with Sarina Bowen)
* * *
The Heartbreakers Series
Once Upon a Real Good Time
Once Upon a Sure Thing
Once Upon a Wild Fling
* * *
Boyfriend Material
Asking For a Friend
Sex and Other Shiny Objects
One Night Stand-In
* * *
Lucky In Love Series
Best Laid Plans
The Feel Good Factor
Nobody Does It Better
Unzipped
* * *
Always Satisfied Series
Satisfaction Guaranteed
Instant Gratification
Overnight Service
Never Have I Ever
PS It’s Always Been You
Special Delivery
* * *
The Sexy Suit Series
Lucky Suit
Birthday Suit
* * *
From Paris With Love
Wanderlust
Part-Time Lover
* * *
One Love Series
The Sexy One
The Only One
The Hot One
The Knocked Up Plan
Come As You Are
* * *
Standalones
Stud Finder
The V Card
The Real Deal
Unbreak My Heart
The Break-Up Album
* * *
The Caught Up in Love Series
The Pretending Plot
The Dating Proposal
The Second Chance Plan
The Private Rehearsal
* * *
Seductive Nights Series
Night After Night
After This Night
One More Night
A Wildly Seductive Night
About Two A Day
Look, I had a rough week at work. So I escape to the beach, where I wind up rescuing the city’s hot new quarterback from a rogue paddleboard, and then he rescues me that night from a s-e-x drought.
Hello O-Town. Nice to see you!
The charmer with the magic hands wants another date too, and I say yes so fast.
But the thing is I’m the team lawyer for The Mercenaries. And the morning after the sexiest night of my life, I find out the guy I plan to see again was just traded to our team.
Dating the brand spanking new star quarterback?
Off limits.
Especially when my boss blindsides me with this twist – I’m in charge of managing his reputation.
I really shouldn’t invite him over late tonight then.
Truly, I shouldn’t…
* * *
Contents include: sex hacks, text snafus, bedroom dares, major league dirty talking, and twists you won’t see coming in this sexy sports romance.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader:
* * *
Once upon a time I wrote a football novella called Out of Bounds. When I bought the rights back to that novella from the publisher, I thought I would expand it into a novel. Instead, I started from scratch and wrote an entirely new football romance. But I did keep the hero’s name, the heroine’s profession and the setting of Los Angeles. I also kept the settings for a few scenes, such as the beach where they meet, and a movie theater where they bump into each other. But all the dialogue, interactions and emotions are brand new! In short, this is a 98% brand new novel!!! Enjoy!
* * *
Xoxo
Lauren
Two A Day
A Girlfriend Playbook Novel
By Lauren Blakely
* * *
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Did you know this book is also available in audio and paperback on all major retailers? Go to my website for links!
From Lauren
If you read the prequel Mine for Tonight when it was released as a free teaser, go ahead and jump to chapter 6! Everyone else, just turn the page and begin!
Prologue
Drew
* * *
I’ve learned a thing or two from playing football most of my life. To be competitive, you need good hands and a fast mind. But nothing else matters if you don’t have great teamwork.
Football’s a little like good sex. No shade against solo sessions, but sex is best when you and your partner play well together. My best skill between the sheets? Listening to a woman in bed. I follow her cues, learn her likes, take care of all her needs.
I bring those talents to dating too.
And, fine, I’ll admit that as a quarterback I definitely have an advantage in the dating department—it’s literally my job to find chances and then to go for it.
So when I meet a beautifully brainy woman right before the season starts, I’m all in, making a helluva big play for her.
But then, out of nowhere, the universe sacks me.
Oo f.
1
The Hottie Goes Kersplat
Brooke
* * *
Are you kidding me?
I stare at the email from my ex in disbelief.
This has got to be a prank. Or he’s doing it for upvotes on some Reddit post—Wildest things an ex has ever said, or something.
Or maybe I just haven’t had enough coffee.
The Los Angeles sun streams through my kitchen window as I cross the kitchen to pour another cup of ambrosia. I swallow a hearty gulp and let it work its magic on my brain cells.
There.
I’m fueled up after the worst week ever and ready to read this bizarre request again.
* * *
Hey, Brookey Babes!
So, you probably follow me online. If you don’t, you totally should. Started a new profile. I call it The Shirtless Esquire. You know, since I used to be a lawyer, and “esquire” just sounds so fucking cool.
Anyway, I’m doing a hot new series called “Conversation with my Ex” for The Shirtless Esquire OnlyFans page. Get this—I’ll be interviewing my exes about what went wrong. It’s gonna be insightful and healing, and it’ll give me a chance to tell both sides of the story. And I know it’s been a hot minute since we were a thing, when I think of exes, you’re one of my faves. How about it? Wanna help me break the Internet?
Love ya much and always,
Sailor
P.S.: Yeah, I’ll be shirtless for the convo. Feel free to do the same, but no pressure. Totally up to you.
* * *
And…I did read it right the first time.
Exasperated, I contemplate a reply. Something like: “Shockingly, Sailor, I do not want to be part of your interview series. Or to speak to you shirtless. We split because you went pants-less with other people. Maybe you should try keeping your clothes on for a change?”
Ugh.
I’d ignore the email and forget about it, but I know Sailor will call too.
And yup. My phone trills and his face flashes on the screen.
I grit my teeth, send the call to voicemail, then text a reply.
* * *
Brooke: Thanks for thinking of me. But feel free to lose my number.
* * *
Then, I block his. I down the rest of my coffee, blow out an exhausted breath, and stare at the kitchen counter, littered with reminders of my hellish week. My bottle of migraine meds got a workout these last seven days. So did my wallet, thanks to the bill from the tire shop after I drove over a nail in the grocery store parking lot after I got rear-ended by a mom texting in her minivan. And over in the corner, a wilted bouquet of peonies dies miserably, fallen petals collecting around the vase in a stinky mess.
Who sends flowers to someone who didn’t get a promotion? My boss. Why can’t Stephen make it easier to be mad at him? But I guess I should be grateful. Flowers and no promotion are still better than redundancy and no job. It’s hard to get ahead in my industry, and I need the money, so I’ll just have to water the peonies, smile, and go to work tomorrow, ready to do it all again.
But there’s only one thing for me to do today as the weekend draws to a close.
Hit the beach and read a book.
Nothing cures a bad week like some sun and an escape into make-believe.
After a few hours spent basking on the beach, immersed in the latest escapades of Axel Huxley’s vigilante-for-hire, I’ve nearly forgotten my ex’s ridiculous request. The sea and stories have always settled me, ever since I was young. Today, the combo does its trick, washing away my week.
Normally, I wouldn’t let an ex bug me so much, but I can’t escape The Shirtless Esquire. He’s become a thing on social media. My co-workers update me about his online antics, more than one of them noting how hot Sailor is.
I wish I could whatever him away with a pure give-no-fucks attitude, but hearing from him reminds me that in the year since we split, my dating life has been a desert.
My social calendar is the Sahara.
That’s Los Angeles—a good guy who doesn’t mansplain is as rare as a clear lane during rush hour on the freeway.
I set down my paperback on my Los Angeles Bandits towel, then stare at the Pacific, willing the scene to calm my rattled nerves.
In the distance, a boat bobs along. Closer to the shore, a couple of towheaded toddlers cart buckets of sand for sandcastles. Off to the side, guys play volleyball, spiking like they’re trying out for the next Top Gun.
And all along the water, surfers and paddle boarders ride waves and paddle through them. Venice Beach is home for all sorts of board sports thanks to its mostly mellow crests. Neither are things I’ll ever do, but I like to watch and to wade.
I stand and stretch. Watch out, world. A top-notch toe-dipper is on her way into the Pacific.
Leisurely, I make my way to the shoreline, letting the cool water kiss my feet. The early afternoon sun beats down on my shoulders as I wade in until the water reaches my waist. I freestyle for a few relaxing lengths, then my gaze catches on a paddle boarder two board lengths away, close enough for me to see the water bead on his carved abs.
Oh hello, eye candy.
I float on my back and indulge in the primo view.
That body will take a mind off a week of headaches, flat tires, and annoying exes—broad shoulders, carved abs, and a killer smile have that effect. Yup. Happy place, I am in you at last.
The hottie pushes his oar through the water, gliding along a rolling crest of a wave, nice and smooth. Strong legs, big, delish arms, totally lickable abs—all his muscles rippling and glistening with ocean water.
I sigh. This is the kind of shirtlessness I can enjoy. Boarders should be shirtless.
But as I’m enjoying the scenery, another paddle boarder comes out of nowhere, dropping into Eye Candy’s wave, and breaking a basic rule of the ocean road—don’t jump in someone else’s lane.
I pop upright, tensing, picturing dangerous scenarios unfolding. Ones that involve boards, and oars, and heads, and whacks.
The lanky guy loses his footing and tumbles backward off the board in a blur of limbs, hitting the water with a loud slap. The oar shoots from his hand on a fast track for Eye Candy. The former lifeguard in me shouts, “Heads-up!”
But not quickly enough.
Smack!
The oar connects with the back of the paddle boarder’s noggin, and the hottie goes kersplat, face-first into the water. I cringe in sympathy as he’s knocked under the sea.
