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    Second Chance at Love
    Second Chance at Love
    Second Chance at Love
    Ebook192 pages4 hours

    Second Chance at Love

    By Cristina Grenier

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    Five years ago, Amara Hunter was married and had happy dreams of the future. Now she's a single mother, and just wants a better life for herself and her daughter. That's why she works long hours at her two jobs, saves as much as she can, and relies on help from her mother even though it's not ideal. The tiny apartment they live in won't be where they are forever, and she knows all she has to do is keep climbing and they'll get somewhere better. 

    Tristan Johansson wants a better life, too, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to get it. He passes information to those who need it, serves as a bodyguard for people who are on the wrong side of the law, and has occasionally been convinced to engage in petty crime when he needs the money. 

    Neither of them are looking for someone else in their lives to complicate matters, and they've lived in the same building for years without even speaking. But when Tristan saves Amara from an unsavory character as she's coming home from work one night, something sparks between them, and if they work at it, it could be the thing that helps change everything for the better. 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMonster Media LLC
    Release dateMar 8, 2019
    ISBN9781386570585
    Second Chance at Love

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      Book preview

      Second Chance at Love - Cristina Grenier

      Second Chance at Love

      Cristina Grenier

      Want to receive a FREE copy of this

      full length BWWM Romance by bestselling author Cristina Grenier?

      Click the cover below.

      Prequel One: Amara

      Mmm, Jeremy.

      Shh…

      He whispered it against her lips, one arm around her waist, dragging her closer. Don’t want them to hear.

      Not into that? Amara teased, her arms around his neck. Her back was to his bedroom door, and was arched, her pelvis pressed to Jeremy’s, her back against the fake wood of the dorm bedroom door.

      His hands were rough, like someone who had worked with them for most of their life, but his face was soft and his eyes were warm as he looked at her, searching her face like he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

      Her smile answered the question.

      Jeremy huffed and shook his head at her. Want me to just open the door and give them all a show?

      His roommates were just a few hundred feet away, in the common room playing video games while the two of them had stolen away to have some time to themselves. Thanksgiving break started in two days, and with the rush of midterms and packing, this was the last chance they’d have to spend time together.

      Amara giggled at the notion. She could imagine it now, Matt and Sam and Jamal with their mouths open as they stared, her blushing hard enough that it showed up on her dark skin, Jeremy being smug as he dragged her back into his bedroom, point proved.

      Shh, she whispered, repeating his admonishment and laughing as she pulled him back in and kissed him hard on the mouth.

      They kissed there against the door for long minutes, mouths moving together, tongues tangling, their breathing harsh and ragged between them. One of Jeremy’s hands slid down to cup her through her jeans, rubbing against the heat at her center that only grew as they kissed and touched.

      Want you, he mumbled, pressing his hips forward so she could feel the hard line of his cock through his jeans.

      Yeah? she panted back, licking her lips.

      Yeah.

      And then they were moving, stumbling and tugging at each other’s clothes, shirts pulled over their heads, pants discarded on the floor as they made their way to the twin bed pushed against the wall.

      The sheets were rumpled, clothes and books strewn across the covers, but Jeremy tossed it all to the floor and laid down, pulling Amara on top of him. His hands went to her butt, groping it through her cotton panties before sliding fingers forward to rub between her legs.

      So wet, he said, brown eyes bleeding black with how much he wanted her.

      Yeah, was all Amara could reply, moaning softly as she spread her legs for him.

      He tugged her down so they were grinding together, heat and friction building between them as they moved, breaths mingled and noises muffled by messy kisses.

      Can I… Jeremy didn’t finish his question, but Amara didn’t need him to. She nodded, letting him switch their positions and roll her onto her back.

      There was no more talking after that. Just him pulling down her panties and his boxers, his cock, hot and hard as he rubbed it against the slick wetness of her entrance, and then Amara arching and letting him in, her moans soft and half choked as he moved inside her.

      How many more tests do you have this week? her roommate, Julia, asked, leaning against the counter of their small kitchenette.

      Four, Amara replied, sighing and tugging at one unruly twist that had escaped from the messy knot she’d tied the rest of them into at the top of her head. Three more days and then we’re free.

      Until next semester.

      Don’t remind me. I’m trying not to think about next semester until I finish this one.

      That’s fair.

      On the table, a buzzing rattled the stacks of papers Amara had collected there. Amidst the study guides and notes, she unearthed her phone from under the piles, smiling when she saw the text from Jeremy.

      study break? ;)

      They’d only been going out for around two months, but it was going well, if Amara did say so herself. He wasn’t the typical dude bro jock jerk she was used to from high school and her first year of college, and they actually had things in common and did more than just have sex all the time.

      Though there was a lot of sex when they could find some time and privacy to do it.

      Either way, Amara knew what he meant by study break, and she glanced at the time on her phone and chewed on her lip, thinking it over. If she was going to finish going through her notes for one of the two finals she had the next day, she really needed to buckle down and keep working. And she knew that once she went over to Jeremy’s there would be no chance of being productive for the rest of the night.

      No time, she typed back. Two finals tomorrow.

      Seconds later, his reply came in: :(

      And then: okay. good luck!

      Amara smiled and set her phone face down on the table, allowing herself a moment to be pleased about how he’d responded.

      With all the stress of finals, she didn’t have a lot of time to think about anything other than studying and turning in papers and doing exams. She’d lost some weight in her stress, and it wasn’t until she was home for Christmas that she noticed she hadn’t gotten her period in December at all.

      That’s normal when you’re stressed, her older sister told her when she finally broke down and confided in her on Christmas Eve. My first and last years of college I thought I was pregnant every other month.

      But it wasn’t a big deal? Amara asked, worry clear on her face.

      Malia shook her head. Nope. I mean, if you’re really worried, just take a pregnancy test. It’ll show up negative, and you’ll know it was just a false alarm.

      That put Amara’s mind at ease for the rest of the holiday.

      Until it became clear that it wasn’t actually a false alarm at all.

      How could you do this?

      Amara sat at the kitchen table, her eyes locked on the wood grain. Her hands were folded in her lap, and she didn’t dare glance up at her mother to see the fury in her eyes. Hearing it was enough already.

      I can’t believe you’d be so irresponsible! I didn’t send you off to college so you could...spend your time under some boy!

      She flinched at that. Honestly, she wanted to argue back with her, but arguing with her mother never turned out well, and Amara couldn’t remember ever seeing her this angry before.

      It had taken all of her courage to work up the nerve to tell her mom that she was pregnant. Malia had offered to come with her, to be there when she broke the news, and now her older sister was standing in the kitchen with her arms folded, back to the refrigerator.

      Mama, it’s not like she meant for it to happen, Malia said. Cut her a break.

      "Cut her a break? the mother snapped, whirling to glare at her eldest daughter. Your sister is pregnant! She doesn’t have a job or a degree or a husband, but she’s got a baby on the way, and you want me to cut her a break?"

      I didn’t mean to, Mom! Amara said, unable to be silent any longer. Her eyes were full of tears as she looked up finally. It was an accident.

      You shouldn’t’ve been messing around with boys anyway! You’re supposed to be getting an education! Making something of yourself! Do you even have a plan?

      All she could do was shake her head. Because she didn’t have a plan. She didn’t even know how to go about making one. The little test had told her she was pregnant, and she’d slid down to the bathroom floor in shock. That shock hadn’t worn off yet, even though it had been a week since she’d taken the test.

      Do you even know who the father is? her mom wanted to know.

      She did. Jeremy was the only boy she’d been with in the last year. He was the only one it could be, and the thought of telling him made her feel like she was going to be sick. What would he say? What would she say?

      He hadn’t said anything for long minutes, and Amara wanted to just take the words back and walk out of the room. Pretend like none of this had ever happened and just figure something else out.

      I’m not expecting anything from you, she said into the silence, hoping that would do something to make this less awkward. You don’t have to do anything. I just...thought you should know.

      Jeremy blinked at her, looking up from where he had been staring at his hands. But it’s mine, though?

      Amara nodded. Yeah. I mean, there’s only been you since I was a freshman, so. She shrugged. You don’t have to do anything.

      It seemed important to keep saying that. She didn’t want him to think she was trapping him with this. Her own future was drastically changed now, but that didn’t mean his had to be. Her mother had been in favor of calling up Jeremy’s mother and letting her know that her son didn’t understand how to practice safe sex and then demanding that the boy make a commitment, but Amara had been able to talk her out of that. It would only make things worse, and if this was her mistake, then she was going to be the one to deal with it.

      You can’t do it on your own, though, Amara, Jeremy said. What about school?

      I’ll...keep going as long as I can. Finish up online, maybe. Her hand rested over her stomach. She wasn’t even showing yet, but there was life in her, and she was strangely protective of it.

      Maybe… Jeremy trailed off and then met her eyes firmly. Maybe we can do it together. My mom’s gonna be pissed, and my dad...I don’t even wanna think about that, but it’s my baby, too.

      Amara was touched. Concerned that he didn’t know what he was getting himself into, but touched all the same. And it wasn’t like she had any better idea of what the future held either. All she knew was that it would be nice not to face it alone.

      To appease her very Christian mother, there was a wedding. It was small, secret almost, and the vows were said before she was showing too much.

      Young love, her mother kept saying whenever someone commented on how young they were. Not even old enough to drink at their own wedding, not that Amara could have anyway.

      Young love, Amara whispered to herself as she watched her stomach grow, trading in her jeans and tank tops for maternity dresses and pants with elastic waistbands as winter thawed into spring.

      Young love, Jeremy said as he kissed her forehead each night. They lived with his parents in their basement that summer, and Amara was hot and cranky, swollen and feeling fat.

      Young love, she thought, eyes filling with tears as she gazed down at her daughter for the first time. Nearly a full day of labor had brought this squalling bundle of baby into her arms, skin the color of coffee with milk, a thatch of curls on her head. She was tinier than she had any right to be, and Amara loved her with her whole self immediately.

      Young love, she scoffed nearly a year later as she watched Jeremy pack his things. The fight had left her hoarse, throat scratchy and dry, tight with the tears she wanted to shed, but couldn’t. She’d caught him with someone else. She’d found out about the lies and the cheating. He’d thrown his youth in her face. He was still young, he’d said. He wanted to be able to live.

      Amara had never wanted to be the anchor around his neck, dragging him down.

      She held her daughter close, face pressed to the soft curls of her hair. It’s just you and me, she whispered. We’ll be okay.

      Prequel Two: Tristan

      Summer in the city was a scorching hot affair. Asphalt was cracked and absorbed the heat, making it impossible to touch unless you wanted the bottoms of your feet to be red and blistered by the end of the day.

      Box fans in windows droned on, moving around air that didn’t have a hint of coolness in it, and those who were lucky enough to be able to afford units with air conditioners had them on full blast, the rumbling sound of the machines heard from the street.

      Kids ran around in front of their buildings, every blade of grass turned brown in the relentless heat of the summer sun. Parents called out from open windows to put on sunscreen or wear a hat. To come in and have a glass of water. School was out for the next two months, and the kids were making the most of it, coated in sweat and dust and dirt, riding their bikes or skateboards in the street and calling out to each other when the occasional car drove by.

      Tristan kicked at a baseball as it rolled towards him, aiming at the cluster of middle school kids who looked his way. His hands were in his pockets, and his legs were hot in the jeans he wore. Socks and shoes seemed like torture, but he wore them all the same, blowing sweat damp locks of curly brown hair out of his face.

      His footsteps echoed along the alley way that he ducked into to find some relief from the sun and wait for his friend.

      At fifteen, he was too old to be playing catch in the street or flying down a hill on his bike to tempt a breeze to ruffle through his hair. His friends all wanted to stay inside and play video games, and since Keith was one of the only ones lucky enough to have both a gaming console and air conditioning, they gathered at his house on most evenings. Keith’s mom made them lemonade and cookies, invited them to stay for dinner, called them ‘dear’ and ‘sweetheart’ and made it hard for them to go back to their own houses to stew in their own sweat.

      Tristan was waiting for Evan now. It was their turn to get beers for the night, Keith’s parents were gone for the weekend, and while they could invite people over, some girls from school, some older boys maybe, they were content to use the money Keith’s parents had left for pizza and play endless games of Grand Theft Auto in the cool air of the house.

      Hey!

      He looked up, and there was Evan, looking just as hot and miserable as Tristan felt.

      Let’s do this, Tristan said, pushing off from the wall.

      What’s the hurry? Evan asked, falling into step with him as they headed up the street towards the convenience store. "You’re not scared are you?"

      Tristan ignored the way his heart was racing in his chest, his hands trembling

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