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Full Throttle, gear 2 is HERE!

They both love to ride… and they’ve fallen for each other, but her brother is in the way of happy-ever-after.

Blake’s biggest competition is himself – both on the track and in life. His closest friend is family and he’ll do anything to protect the relationship.

Even if that means not following his heart and pursuing his friend’s sister, Eva.

Eva is going to rock her racing class. She’s tired of being known as the little sister to one of the greatest dirt bike champions in US history. She wants, no, needs to be seen as herself.

But when what she wants professionally and longs for personally collide, everything could blow up in her face and destroy any chance at happiness. For either of them.

ALL RETAILERS

Chapter 1

Blake growled at the mud peppering his goggles. Just in time to cover his view of the checkered flag as it waved over his head. Come on, Mac! The sweet scent of exhaust lingered in Blake’s nose. His best-friend roostered off in front of him as he claimed first place about three bike lengths ahead of Blake.

Only two ahead of JT.

Another reason for Blake to growl deep in his throat with a rough timbre like that of his Yamaha YZF450.

Third.

What was going on with him?

He shook his sweaty, shaggy dark hair out of his face after pulling off his helmet. The bandana that usually held his hair back in his helmet had failed him that time. The stupid thing was probably back on the track somewhere.

He dangled the helmet on one of his handlebars while he pushed his bike from the race toward his pit and crew. His crew was great, but Blake would still take care of his bike. If he didn’t know how his bike was doing, then he couldn’t ride well.

Third. Again. How come he kept missing the stupid mark? Why couldn’t he get in second or first? Of course, he was happy JT was back from his injuries and racing so well. Blake hated seeing his friend injured and his pride had taken a beating when his injury had stemmed from falling down the stairs. Blake had felt awful at all the missed riding time, but he didn’t feel bad enough to take second to JT.

Seeing JT happy with Kelsey ate like acid at Blake’s insides – more than the winning.

Blake loved JT and Mac like brothers, but he was sick of being the outsider, sick of being alone. Where JT had Kelsey and Mac had his dad to fall back on, Blake had no one.

He’d never shared his thoughts with his friends, though. They had his back, and he knew it, but it wasn’t the same.

Waving at fellow competitors and other racers as he crossed the track, he worked on zoning out the loud rumble of the crowd and the general carnival feel flooding around him.

Blake didn’t want to be in last place forever. True, he wasn’t last with regards to the whole rest of the competition, but when it came to Mac and JT, Blake usually came in last.

Pushing his bike to the pit, Blake turned his scowl into a semblance of a smile. Mac and JT laughed as Blake approached. Sometimes, he felt like he was just enough on the outside that while he was part of the trio, he wasn’t a complete piece of the puzzle. Maybe that came from having the kind of background he had which wasn’t something he wanted to focus on. Not when he was already depressed about the third-place spot.

Mac jerked his chin at Blake. “Hey, man. Great race. If we keep this up, we’re going to be able to finish out as the top three for the division. FIM is just around the corner. I know you both want Des Nations as badly as I do.” He thumbs-upped Blake and slugged JT’s shoulder.

No one wanted Des Nations as bad as Mac did.

Blake shook his head, unable to fight the chuckle Mac’s words brought out. “You and that race. What if we don’t make it? If I don’t get better at my racing, I’m not going to get anywhere. Certainly, not into Glen Helen.” Even if he did live miles away.

JT clamped his hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about Glen Helen. Worry about Anaheim next week.” He winked at Blake and then glanced over Blake’s shoulder. “Hey guys, I gotta go. Kelsey’s waiting for me.” He waved at a strawberry blonde curvy girl whose smile could charm you into taking the worst tasting medicine on the planet. Her nursing skills had helped JT overcome his injuries and his determination to break from his father’s unscrupulous managing ethics.

Not only was JT winning the races Blake wanted to win, he’d also gotten the girl. Well, not the woman Blake wanted. At that point in time, Blake would be happy to settle for anybody, even if his heart wasn’t in it. His heart just hurt too much not having the one he wanted.

Since he discovered how much he actually cared for her, Blake hadn’t been able to date any other woman out there. He had to smother his true feelings under the heel of his dirt biking boot.

Blake set his after-market kickstand and pulled off his gloves. Third place would still warrant interviews. He had to get the new tight chest plate off before throwing on his hat and a clean jersey covered with sponsor info.

The warm day had dried the mud on his bike and gear to a crusty dust. Blake wiped at the sweat on his brow and wouldn’t mind snagging one or two of the polish sausage dogs he could smell from the concession stand in the bleachers.

Mac leaned over, pushing his hair out of his face. He jerked his thumb towards the disappearing JT. “Our brother got all his stuff fully moved out. He won’t be with us anymore.”

Blake smirked. “He has lived with us for a while, Mac. Are you just now figuring this out?” He laughed, shaking his head. “There’s nothing about Kelsey that will let JT return to our place. Not to mention his sweet house that his dad doesn’t live in anymore. The guy has heaven at home. He’s set. You and I are just lowly bachelors. We don’t even rank anymore.” But Blake hid his sadness over the fact that he was alone. He didn’t want to be and he was sure Mac didn’t either.

As if thinking about his lackluster love life made the object of his focus appear, an image walked into view. Blake nodded at Mac’s comment, distracted.

Because there she was. Eva Hudson. She hid her curves well underneath her black LBZ canvas pants and dark blue and white riding jersey. Her sponsors were sparse but the logos stood out well on the simple coloring scheme she had chosen.

Blake had seen her in swimsuits and tight jeans and even just a pajama shirt. He knew what she hid from the world and it had everything to do with her femininity, even as she worked on smothering it beneath layers of tomboy racer and defiance.

He hadn’t meant to, but Blake had swayed her towards riding Yamaha. Blue was the way to go and dang, she made the color look good.

She walked toward the racing pit, tightening her riding gloves and fixing the chin strap on her helmet. Her race was up, and Blake knew how nervous she was. He’d overheard her talking to Mac about her nerves. Mac had laughed and hugged her, saying it was okay and normal, but he hadn’t tried to address the problem.

Blake was a fixer, he wanted to make sure whatever upset her didn’t continue hurting her. She just needed to be reassured and Mac had only generalized it. Mac didn’t really understand where she was coming from. Blake understood her drive and her need to break away.

Eva had been riding the circuit all year, tried hitting qualifying times the year before and she was finally hitting scores where she could compete professionally. Girl even landed her own sponsors.

Blake was nervous for her. He knew how much riding meant to her. He understood it even more than Mac, her brother. The difference was Mac loved to ride and Eva did it because she couldn’t breathe without it.

“Do you think Eva is going to hit the necessary marks this week?” Mac turned and watched Eva with Blake. “She won’t let me help her. She said I’m too impatient to teach her. I’m not impatient. She’s slow.” He ended on a laugh but rubbed his nose to hide his concern for his sister. Blake could spot his concern without much trouble. They’d been friends forever and a half.

Blake bit his tongue to keep from lashing out at Mac or saying something that would be taken wrong. Mac actually was impatient.

If you didn’t hit Mac’s expectations the first time, you had some explaining to do. Blake couldn’t remember the last time he had successfully met the lineup of expectations from Mac.

JT seemed to hit them all the time, but Blake and Mac had been on each other’s nerves lately. Mac was wearing on Blake’s patience as well

He understood where Eva’s frustration came in. It sucked when you felt like you were never good enough.

If he felt like mentally punishing himself, Blake would imagine telling Mac how he felt about Eva. He fell so far below the standards that Mac had set for any guy to date her, Blake would never get to see her or the Hudson family again. Not if his true feelings were revealed.

Going after Eva as a love interest was not an option.

Even though they were well into their twenties, Eva didn’t date much because of Mac’s controlling older brother personification. He had a habit of blocking most men that tried to get close to his little sister.

“I think she’s going to do fine. She bore that throttle down and didn’t hesitate. She needs to stick it on the triple and she’ll do better on the last lap.” Blake didn’t glance at Mac, choosing instead to keep his gaze trained on Eva. She was easy to pick out in the line of girl riders. She held herself with a confidence he usually only saw in male riders.

The women raced great, but there was something in the way they held themselves. Eva’s posture and handling of the bike mimicked Mac. She held herself like she’d been riding with the boys her whole life.

Because she had.

Maybe it was her love for biking that had clinched Blake’s interest in her. How she commanded the larger bikes with a domineering attitude. The big engines didn’t faze her and she went for whatever popped out the higher horsepower. Blake couldn’t help responding to the hotness of that trait.

Or maybe it was just her. He’d probably fall for her, even if she didn’t ride. Before he started a mental compilation of all the tremendous facts about Eva, he returned his attention to the race. He always listed what he loved about her.

“I’m glad JT is back. I don’t want anyone but you guys going with me to Glen Helen. We are going, Blake. Don’t even try getting out of it.” Mac tapped Blake on the shoulder to get his attention. His touch wasn’t soft as he prodded with one finger.

Blake reluctantly turned his gaze to Mac. “Yeah, man. I get it. I’ll do my best.” He tightened his jaw and returned his gaze to Eva’s race. He had to remind himself how much he loved his friend. They were like brothers. Closer than most people were with their own blood.

Peering through the strong plastic netting used to protect the pits from any racing paraphernalia, Blake squinted to see the racers on the end farthest from him.

The deafening noise would give Blake a headache before the day was out. He preferred the relative quiet of a couple people riding along mountain trails where if you turned off your bike, there was silence – not another fifty bikes fighting to be heard.

Eva was coming up on the triple and those jumps were her hardest. If she didn’t hit the throttle hard enough, then she would come down too early and that would cost her time she didn’t have. Hopefully. the racers in front would get stuck on the whoops. Eva did really well on the short bumps that came in quick succession.

Mac prodded Blake’s shoulder as if to remind him they were talking. “Okay, you better not let me down. I need to be able to rely on my guys.” Mac nodded again, then walked off. Probably to discuss things with his sponsors.

All he did was talk about the Des Nations. Winning the last season of their careers was the only thing that mattered to Mac. He hadn’t even said if he was for sure retiring or mentioned his plans for after Des Nations. It was like all of his life’s focus had centered down to one race in time. The race was the only thing Mac and his dad, Brian, talked about. Dinner at the Hudson house had become a commentary on who was winning what race where and would they end up at Des Nations.

Thank goodness, Mac’s mom could cook.

Short timer syndrome had never made so much sense before to Blake. He didn’t even want to continue racing, even to finish the season. He was burnt out. He’d been racing with his friends since they were eleven or twelve years old. Before that riding had just been for fun.

Great, now he sounded like he was complaining about being paid to do something he loved. But that was the problem, when someone loved something as much as Blake loved riding, getting paid for it deleted a little bit of the fun and added pressure in its place.

All kinds of pressure.

Blake wanted to warn Eva and tell her that riding professionally wasn’t the way to go. The millions of dollars weren’t worth it, if you made it that far. Blake didn’t even know what he would do after he was done and the end of his career loomed nearer and nearer. Coaching would be great, or something that didn’t require him to be in the spotlight so much.

JT had a great plan after Des Nations to go into freestyle. He’d even lined up his sponsors to follow him across.

Maybe Blake would do the same thing. He honestly didn’t know for sure. All he did know was that as long as Eva was riding the circuit, Blake would be right there watching.

Eva headed into the next pass and Blake could only imagine what she would say if he told her just how much he cared. He imagined telling her over candlelit dinner, giving her roses, while she wore a silk, strappy dress. Her blonde hair would be in a braid down her back. Her brown eyes would sparkle with laughter instead of looking at him like one of Mac’s friends. Not just one of her brother’s friends, but the bad-boy friend that had nothing to offer her.

One way or another, he had to figure out a way to get Eva to look at him as more than just a friend. Heck, he’d be happy if she looked at him as a friend. Most of the time she looked at him like he was the most annoying thing she’d ever seen. Which wouldn’t be bad, if he annoyed her in ways she couldn’t keep out of her mind late at night.

Blake had to get her attention… But how?

Downshift, Gear 1, is HERE!

When a lonely dirt bike champion is injured, it puts him on a crash course with a determined redhead nurse. But she is desperate to deny this daredevil into her heart. Can they help the other escape their lonely lives or are they destined to race from their hearts for all seasons?
J.T. is one of the top dirt bike champions in the US. With sponsors and races filling his calendar, he should be happy in his success. But until his ten year contract is up, he’s tied to the controlling and thieving management of his father.
Kelsey’s responsibilities are crashing around her. The only way to get ahead is to get a job that pays more and with impossibly specific benefits. If she can’t succeed, her dreams will fade like her grandmother’s memories.
An accident thrusts J.T. into Kelsey’s care. She accepts his proposal and challenges him for a price. But when their emotions and attractions get in the way of their mutual goals, they need to choose which is more important – their hearts or their dreams?
***
Chapter 1
JT
The clutch stuck. JT shifted on his seat to avoid squirreling to the side of the track or into another race. Another ride, probably Blake, clipped his right handlebar.
Come on. JT squeezed, released, and squeezed again, but his Honda refused to respond. He was fast losing his spot in first, hell, his chance to place at all.
The cacophony of roaring engines surrounded him, vibrating from under his jersey to his helmet. Even muffled, the thrum filled his body. In the short second everything happened, JT remembered to breathe.
Pop the gears down into first, and then… he closed his eyes and released his clutch. The bike jerked forward and JT pulled hard on the throttle. He snapped his fingers tight and jerked his left foot up to fourth as fast as he could. That last side crunch on a jump had messed with his cable, or something, messed with the mechanical aspects of his bike.
A full bike-length behind fifth place when he entered the whoops, bumps on the trail that demand skill to cross over, JT took the corner at full speed. Idiot. Once again, he had to downshift or lose his balance in the curve.
Blake’s blue and gold helmet weaved in and out, popping up when he hit the triples and nailed all three slopes. He disappeared again past the tabletop.
JT’s breathing sped up. He had to catch Blake. If Mac won, fine, but Blake couldn’t beat JT. Not again.
This season had to be different. It had to be.
Someone on a Kawasaki cut in front of JT, roostered around him, and crested the first plateau. The mud and rocks peppered JT’s jersey and pinged on the plastic of his bike.
A tangled milieu of bikes and riders covered the course thirty yards in, just feet from the finish line.
Back far enough to observe the mess, JT throttled over a fallen bike’s rear tire. He grinned when he recognized the bike’s gold Fox emblem. Ah, Blake. Down this time.
As the checkered flag waved through the thunderous applause of the crowd and cameras flashed, JT downshifted and cruised toward the two bikers who’d finished before him – Mac and a rookie. There weren’t many things more annoying than to be considered old when other kids JT’s age were just finishing college.
Distant roars echoed off the stadium walls, mixing with the droning crowd. Unclipping his helmet, JT slid it from his head. “Mac, glad you made it!” he yelled as he thrust his chin upward at one of his best friends.
Mac leaned across his handlebars and shook JT’s outstretched hand. “Hey, man. Great race. Was that Blake down again? Where the hell are the rest of the riders?”
JT wiped his sleeve across his damp forehead. “Yeah, that was Blake, alright. Punk passed me after I thudded off the whoops. Messed up my clutch. Karma, right? Here they come now.” He pointed at the stragglers coming into the fielding area.
A rider decked in orange and a healthy layer of brown mud brushed at his jersey. Another in yellow pushed his bike down the incline, the handlebars hanging at an angle.
One hand steadying his bike and the other resting on his leg, JT pasted a fake smile on his face when Blake’s Yamaha came into view. Pushing the bike, Blake clenched his helmet over the side handle and glared at JT.
“What the hell was that? My rear tire’s bent now ‘cause of you, prick,” Blake groaned.
The fact that he’d reclaimed third place helped JT maintain his good mood. “Hey, good race, Blake. Maybe next time, yeah?”
JT ignored the urge to flip off his friend. Only during the season was it hard to remember they loved both riding and each other. Exhaust filled the air, the sweet smell of Maxima two-stroke oil wafting just under the high octane of the four-strokes, announcing Eva’s arrival.
Mac’s sister only rode two-strokes for practice, but raced four-strokes. She was the only girl that practiced with the pro circuit. Too many girls tried, but zero held their spots with the men.
She pulled up and parked next to Mac in time to witness him call JT and Blake to task.
Mac held up his hand. “Alright, boys, that’s enough. Blake, your manager’s over there. Go grab your replacement and get to the awards area. JT and I will go around for interviews and meet you there.”
“Pssh. Your captain is showing.” Blake growled, but managed a smile, He glanced at Eva as he smoothed his shoulder-length dark brown hair back from his face. His solid jaw and dark eyes sobered as he watched Mac and his sister.
Mac had been voted as their leader a long time ago. About the time they’d all crept into the woods to face the werewolves together. Mac had been the only one smart enough to bring a flashlight and not run screaming from the forest when an owl hooted. Eva had laughed the entire time they’d been shaking in the mud room, huddled around the fire.
JT smothered the grin he wanted to throw at Blake. He’d get interviewed while Blake had to clean up and watch. “Yeah, you need to do what the boss says.”
Blake’s glare could bubble the graphics on JT’s Honda. Chuckling, JT glanced around for his father who acted as his manager. Relief stole through him at the man’s welcome absence.
“Stop baiting him, JT.” Mac tossed his helmet into his dad’s open arms.
Mac’s father, Brian Hudson, acted as his son’s manager as well, but he didn’t tie Mac into a contract or take three times his cut of pay.
“Hey, Dad, do you have any more of the Pepsi caps? I’m heading up to interview.” Mac pulled a wristband from his pocket and wrapped it on his right wrist. The logo of one of his sponsors prominent on the wide leather strip.
“I have some.” Eva pulled off her backpack and withdrew a flat brimmed cap from the pocket. “Don’t tilt it to the side this time. You looked like an idiot.” She handed over the hat and glanced after Blake and the group of women following him for an autograph.
“Yeah, and don’t forget to drink this and hold it. The last shot wasn’t really clear and the sponsor wasn’t really pleased.” Brian held up his son’s can of pop and smiled at JT. “Good race, Josiah. It looked like your clutch was sticking. Did you smash your handlebar when you landed off that double?”
“Yes, sir. I must have hit the jump at the wrong angle.” JT cranked on the bar and shrugged. He didn’t want to admit that he’d most likely gotten cocky and relaxed into the jump instead of being ready.
“Have your dad take a look, if your pit crew won’t do anything.” Brian poked Mac. “Get goin’, son. First place waits for no man.”
He one-arm hugged Mac, smiling at him with genuine affection. Something JT didn’t remember ever getting from his own father.
Blond hair stuffed under a dark blue Pepsi baseball hat, Mac gripped the can and slid off his bike. “Thanks, Dad. Ready, JT?”
JT wiped at the mud splatters on his jersey. It wasn’t the first time he’d wished Mr. Hudson was his dad. His own father’s notorious tardiness was usually due to ogling the card holders and crowd teasers. JT waved to a pit member loitering by the gates and left his bike with him to be returned to the loading area.
Paraphernalia would be nice to display, but JT had set up his sponsors to pay for plastering his jersey and bike with logos and ads, rather than count on his dad to bring the stuff he needed for interviews. He did wear an LBZ bandana under his helmet to hold his long hair back from his face, but it fell back often and didn’t always stick where it was supposed to. He’d never let his hair get longer than nape of the neck. He couldn’t cut it short like he wanted to, or he’d miss a huge opportunity to piss off his dad.
The trophy area and media stage had been mashed together at the north end of the arena. Bulbs flashed and the attention hungry waited to descend like vultures. Mac glanced back at JT and raised his eyebrows to bolster them both. This was the worst part of the gig.
JT tilted his head toward Mac as if to say, “let’s get this over with.” On the other side of the stand, coming up the stairs, was Dick Thompson. JT’s dad.
Dang it.
JT had been so hopeful he wouldn’t have to deal with him. No such luck. The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough.