Called Out Read online

  Called Out

  By Jen Doyle

  Jen Doyle is back with another hot and heartfelt home run of a contemporary romance. Fans of Jill Shalvis should prepare to swoon over Jack and Lola’s HEA.

  Jack “Ox” Oxford is used to being alone. Granted, when you screw over your friends, being alone isn’t always a choice. Playing for the Chicago Watchmen is a last-ditch effort to save his career...and right some of his past wrongs. He’s not expecting a warm reception, but he’s also not expecting a flat tire to change everything.

  Recovering control freak, single mom and semiprofessional chaos wrangler Lola Deacon McIntire doesn’t need an arrogant ballplayer to swoop in and save her from anything, much less her flat tire. And she definitely doesn’t need her body to betray her and decide this is the guy to wake up her rusty libido. She isn’t about to upset her sons’ lives for any man—much less one who so clearly doesn’t think he’s dad material.

  Jack never thought he’d find someone who wanted to build a life with him, but the more time he spends with Lola and her boys, the more it starts to feel permanent. Even tough-as-nails Lola concedes there just might be a future here—the big, beautiful, messy future neither of them was looking for—but only if Jack will accept he deserves it.

  This book is approximately 100,000 words

  One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!

  Carina Press acknowledges the editorial services of Alissa Davis

  Dear Reader,

  I love paranormal romance, so it was an extra pleasure for me to decide we were going to publish two paranormal romance anthologies and then get to read all of the submissions for them. I’m pleased that these two anthologies, Primal Need: A Sexy M/M Shifter Anthology and Mated: A Paranormal Romance Shifter Anthology, are finally available for purchase this month. Romantic, sizzling and just plain fun, I think you’re going to love them.

  Primal Need features three talented authors of male/male romance bringing together three incredible tales (and tails, I guess? Ha!). In Parker Foye’s “Wolf in King’s Clothing,” collared shifter Kent must steal one final thing before he can be free, but alpha wolf Hadrian doesn’t intend to go quietly when he realizes he’s the thing Kent has to steal—nor does his pack intend to let him go without a fight. In “The Alpha’s Claim” by Holley Trent, quick-witted actor Teddy Gaines is the mate Coyote alpha Jim West’s inner beast craves, but in claiming the very human Teddy, Jim risks inciting rebellion in an already restless pack. Last in this male/male romance anthology is “Dark Water” by debut author K.L. White. Struggling with PTSD, blinded navy veteran Benjamin wades into the ocean to die but is intercepted by a kelpie, a water horse shifter named Rez, who planned to sacrifice him, but their unexpected passion and love may save them both.

  After an accident on her twenty-first birthday, Sam MacTire has to give his best friend, Callie, a quick and dirty education on the ways of the wolf, clan politics and the little problem of their raging hormones before he faces censure for defying clan law and changing her. Check out “Wolf Summer,” debut author Sionna Fox’s addition to the Mated paranormal romance anthology. Returning Carina Press author Shari Mikels joins her with “Drawn to the Wolves.” Wolf shifter and pack alpha Callan Mohan meets his human mate, former sketch artist Kate Ballard, who’s terrified of wolves after witnessing a traumatic childhood incident. And in “Saving His Wolf” by Kerri Adrienne, bear shifter Powell senses the instant he holds her that Olivia is his mate, but the one thing threatening their healing mating hunger is Olivia’s distrusting and vigilant pack—who are prepared to do anything to get her back.

  In addition to these six novellas, we have a full lineup of romance to keep you going through spring and the end of the school year! As FBI agents Aidan “Irish” Talley and Jameson “Whiskey” Walker struggle to separate their professional and personal relationships, the challenging task is made impossibly harder when they’re sent undercover—as basketball coach and sports agent—on an identity-theft case in which all their secrets are ripe for exposure. Layla Reyne’s Agents Irish and Whiskey series is back in Cask Strength, and if you’re not following this male/male romantic suspense series, you’re missing out. It’s not too late to catch up with book one, Single Malt.

  When she agrees to pose as his woman to get details they need for the case, things heat up fast—and it’s not long before the lines between business and personal blur, and they’re both in over their heads. Sarah Hawthorne’s Demon Horde contemporary romance series will keep you turning the pages and this newest installment, Rebel Custody, is no exception.

  Contemporary romance author Jen Doyle is back with her charming and romantic Called Out. Widowed mother of four Lola McIntire did not need a man. Been there, done that, got the broken heart. Even worse? A man who had more drama in his life than she did—like the irredeemable Jack “Ox” Oxford, the major-league pitcher who slept with his best friend’s fiancée. By all accounts, he should be called out. But there’s something about Jack that Lola just can’t shake.

  Jules Court first brought us Hot in the City and now she’s Enticing the Enemy. When passion erupts between police detective Daniel Cruz and defense attorney Erin Rafferty, natural enemies might become something more.

  Last this month is the steamy erotic romance Crave Me by Stacey Lynn. Master Jensen Rhodes was determined to leave the BDSM lifestyle forever, but when he’s introduced to Haley Portsmouth, a new sub seeking her first Dom, he not only decides he’ll train her for submission, he’ll take everything from her—including her heart.

  Pick your poison—or your paranormal or contemporary romance—this month with all these great offerings!

  Coming next month: Rhenna Morgan is back with her latest übersexy hero in the Haven Brotherhood series. Hang on to your hats because Trevor is going to knock your (cowboy) boots off and set your world on fire! Also releasing: our newest anthology offering, a capers and heists collection!

  As always, until next month, my fellow book lovers, here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

  Dedication

  To my dad, my original hero

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Jen Doyle

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Hey, Nate, it’s Jack. Jack Oxford? Your former best friend? So, funny story. My career
has totally tanked and there’s only one guy who will even consider hiring me, but it turns out he’s your boss, and the only way he’ll do it is if you say it’s okay. I realize I’m pretty much scum of the earth, but what do you say? Doable?

  Not a conversation to have over the phone.

  Not a conversation to have in person, either. Not when the specifics were that Jack had slept with Nate’s fiancée at the time and gotten her pregnant.

  When Jack Oxford fucked up, he fucked up big.

  Jack clenched the steering wheel.

  Knowing he was essentially driving to his own funeral, Jack exited off the highway toward Inspiration, Iowa, also known as Nate Hawkins’s hometown. If he’d had any other option, he would have taken it. But he had one last hope to salvage his career. Sam Price. The owner of the Chicago Watchmen and, therefore, Nate’s current boss, had said he’d consider picking up Jack’s contract with one enormous caveat: Nate had to give his blessing. Jack wasn’t sure if Sam was giving him one last chance or playing the biggest joke in the history of the universe. But since Jack was down to the dregs of options, Iowa it was.

  Coming around a curve in the road, his car fishtailed as he slammed on the brakes. A Suburban with a seriously flat tire was on the side of the road.

  Well, hell. It wasn’t like he was looking forward to the afternoon ahead. And he could use all the good karma he could get. He pulled behind it, opened the door of his car, and then stopped suddenly as his ears registered the noise.

  What the fuck was that?

  Oh, God. That was...singing of some kind. An awful rendition of that song from the movie all the kids loved. The one about the ice princess.

  Against his better judgment, he got out. A woman was standing next to the SUV’s open side door, and there were three—no, make that four, Holy Christ—little kids inside. Mercifully, the voices stopped, one by one. Four sets of eyes looked at him briefly before moving on to his car. The mom, however, did a double take. She had straight black hair to her shoulders, bright blue eyes, and skin so smooth and creamy he could taste it on his tongue.

  No. Not his concern. The only thing about her appearance that mattered was that she looked like someone who needed help. Then again, it didn’t appear that fending off her attraction would be a problem. The fact that her double take was followed by a heavily sighed, “Oh, perfect,” before she turned back to the flattened tire was evidence enough. He hadn’t been dismissed that quickly since junior high.

  He cleared his throat. “Do you need some help with that?”

  Her gaze snapped back to him. “Do I look like I need help?”

  Geez. Talk about the kind of question to which there was absolutely no good answer.

  When he began to kneel down to take a look, she got even more irritated. “I can change the tire.”

  He was hoping her response had more to do with the circumstances she found herself in than with him in particular. A whole lot of people hated him right now and he’d really like it if maybe he could have just a moment where he wasn’t reminded of that fact. Resisting a heavy sigh of his own, he nodded toward the inside of the SUV. “No doubt. But the alternative is to have me watch your kids and I’m pretty sure neither one of us wants that.”

  She frowned, of course, as she glanced inside. No woman in her right mind would hand her kids over to a stranger on the side of the road. But even someone not in their right mind would think twice before handing her kids over to Jack Oxford. “You have a spare?”

  Half expecting laser beams to shoot out of her eyes—well, hell, they weren’t his kids—Jack was glad all that came out of the woman was a hiss of breath before she went around him to open the hatch. Although his upbringing demanded he offer to help her with that as well, he figured his survival was dependent on limiting the time he spent near her and anything that could be construed as a weapon. Like, say, a tire iron.

  Sure enough, after a lot of muttering, a few heated back-and-forths with the younger set, and some banging around, a tire iron was, in fact, suddenly very close to his head. Except when he turned around, it wasn’t the woman next to him, it was one of the kids. Seven, maybe eight, years old—one of the few ages he didn’t actually mind. Young enough for genuine enthusiasm, old enough not to piss all over him as a result.

  “Is that a Maserati?” The kid was practically bouncing as he handed over the tool.

  That was enough to make Jack pause and look up. He smiled and nodded. “What’s your name?”

  “Silas,” said the kid, glancing up at his mother. Or at least that’s who Jack assumed she was.

  Speaking of whom... “Have you ever changed a tire before?” she asked while handing him a tire jack. Her tone was one Jack recognized: disgust plus distrust, with an edge of hostility. And he was guessing it wasn’t because she hated people who drove sports cars.

  Well, it wasn’t like he’d expected to be welcomed with open arms in Nate’s hometown. No one here would be rolling out the red carpet.

  Holding back another sigh, Jack checked to make sure the car was level. He wasn’t at the best point in his life, but he had no interest in being crushed by a three-ton SUV. “You think maybe you could get the rest of the kids out?”

  “Maybe I should call Triple A,” she said, not answering his question.

  He looked up at her. “You didn’t think of that before?” He didn’t even attempt to finesse the question. She clearly already had an opinion of him and he wasn’t about to let her down.

  Her arms went across her chest. Her very nice chest as it turned out.

  Not that he was noticing.

  “I was keeping the peace,” she said, nodding at the littler ones.

  He took a closer look. Were they...? No shit, all three of them were the same. They’d all piled out of the back and were standing in a row alongside her, their attention on the phone that the one in the middle held.

  “Sounds like a good plan,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the tire.

  Where it stayed for the ten minutes it took to take off the flat and put on the spare. If it didn’t stay there, it would have wandered to the woman herself. Under other circumstances, that might have led to something. He certainly wouldn’t have minded her eyes being on him the entire time. After all, when a woman’s gaze was focused where hers happened to be focused—i.e., his ass—it was generally a good thing.

  But these were not those circumstances. She snapped out of it almost immediately, cheeks going bright red at his knowing grin. Eyes narrow, she crossed her arms again. “Well, thank you,” she said curtly. “I’m sorry about your clothes. You can have your butler send me the dry cleaning bill.”

  Yep, that confirmed it. If she knew he’d had a butler growing up, then she definitely knew who he was. Because, seriously. Who the fuck had a butler?

  The Oxfords of Greenwich, Connecticut, that’s who. She clearly hadn’t known they had a mechanic, too—one who’d taken pity on the little rich boy whose dad cared more about his collection of classic cars than his own kid. Roddy had taught Jack everything he knew about cars, which happened to be a whole heck of a lot. As if this woman cared.

  She was still looking at him like he was lower than the dirt underneath her tire, a reaction he was so used to by now, he wore it like a second skin. He’d tried to keep a low profile this past year. He’d considered avoiding the press and any non-playing-related appearances a perfectly reasonable attempt to shut out all the noise from the off-season. The media disagreed. They’d dubbed him “The Iceman” during spring training, and had continued to ride his ass all the way through September. Unfortunately, he’d given them plenty to write about since he’d had a shit year.

  Oddly, there’d been a disconcerting number of women who found the challenge appealing. This woman clearly wasn’t one of them, however. Why he found that so discouraging wasn’t something
he could say.

  But it broke through all of his defenses and he sounded more irritable than usual when he snapped, “Look, lady. I get it. I screwed up. And trust me—if I weren’t well aware of that fact, I wouldn’t be on my way to see Nate.” He ran his hand through his hair. “So maybe you could dial down the attitude and let me know if I’m headed in the right direction so we can all be on our way.”

  Oh, Lola McIntire knew exactly where she could direct him.

  Jack Oxford had done something horrible. Despicable. And he’d done it to someone Lola cared very much about. Yet here she was, ogling the man. His sun-streaked sandy brown hair and lean, hard body was doing something to her she couldn’t quite name. Instead of removing herself from the premises with her pride still intact, she was rooted to the ground, staring at him and hoping like hell the heat running through her was just a way-too-premature hot flash.

  Unfortunately that didn’t appear to be the case. It had been a long time since Lola had been with a man and right now she was feeling every single second of it.

  “Mom?”

  Lola forced her attention away from the man in front of her in order to look down at Silas. “Huh?”

  To her utter mortification, her seven-year-old son had to jerk his head up in order for Lola to remember she’d been asked a question. By Jack Oxford. Who, of all people, had just accused her of having an attitude.

  It wasn’t an accusation without merit, to be fair. She did have an attitude problem, and, frankly, she didn’t typically care. Sometimes she went on a rant. Abrasive was a word by which she’d been described on more than one occasion, and, yes, she had an issue with his assumption she was incapable of changing a flat tire. But she wasn’t generally so impolite, especially to someone who had actually stopped to help. Unlike the previous four cars that had passed without stopping.

  She was just so tired. Every once in a while she wished for a fairy godmother to swoop in and tell her that maybe this one freaking time someone else could do the adulting instead. Since the flat tire had occurred during a rare moment of familial harmony brought about by an impromptu Disney sing-along, of all things, she hadn’t been as proactive as she would have ordinarily been.