Sweet Rivalry (1001 Dark Nights) Read online

  Sweet Rivalry

  By K. Bromberg

  1001 Dark Nights

  Sweet Rivalry

  By K. Bromberg

  1001 Dark Nights

  Copyright 2017 K. Bromberg

  ISBN: 978-1-945920-16-5

  Foreword: Copyright 2014 M. J. Rose

  Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  Book Description

  SWEET RIVALRY

  By K. Bromberg

  Ryder Rodgers had a plan.

  He was going to stride into the conference room, do the required song and dance over the next five days, and win the biggest contract of his career. But when he walked in and heard the voice of one of his competitors, all his plans were shot to hell.

  Harper Denton. She was always on top. In college. First in their class. Always using every advantage to edge him out to win the coveted positions. The only one who could beat him. His academic rival. More like a constant thorn in his side. And his ego’s.

  When he heard her voice, he was brought back to years before. To the bitter taste of being second best. But the woman who meets his gaze is nothing like the drab wallflower he used to know. Hell no. She was all woman now: curves, confidence, and staggering sex appeal. And no doubt, still brilliant.

  The fact that she’s gorgeous and bright won’t distract him. This time, Ryder’s determined to be the one on top. But not if Harper can help it.

  About K. Bromberg

  New York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines, and damaged heroes who we love to hate and hate to love.

  She’s a mixture of most of her female characters: sassy, intelligent, stubborn, reserved, outgoing, driven, emotional, strong, and wears her heart on her sleeve. All of which she displays daily with her family and friends where she lives in Southern California.

  In 2013, K. Bromberg decided her part time job in accounting wasn’t cutting it and decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Since then she has written eleven novels, landing over half of them on the New York’s Time Bestseller’s list and all but one of them on the USA Today’s bestseller list. She’s also a Wall Street Journal bestseller and an Amazon pick for best romance of 2013.

  Her most notable series has been the Driven Series, its spin-off novels, and her standalone novel Sweet Cheeks.

  Her plans for 2017 include a novella titled Sweet Rivalry, a sports romance duet (The Player (4/17), The Catch (July)) and the Everyday Heroes series (3 books: Cuffed, Combust, and Cockpit).

  She loves to hear from her readers so make sure you check her out on social media or sign up for her newsletter here.

  Also from K. Bromberg

  Click to purchase

  Driven

  Fueled

  Crashed

  Raced

  Aced

  UnRaveled

  Slow Burn

  Sweet Ache

  Hard Beat

  Down Shift

  Sweet Cheeks

  Acknowledgments from the Author

  This book is dedicated to my book tribe: the women who keep me motivated to sit down and write, who keep me inspired when I don’t feel like writing, and the readers who continually pick up my books on the blind faith that I’m not going to disappoint them. Thank you for your support, your encouragement, and your trust.

  -Kristy

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection One

  Click here to explore

  FOREVER WICKED by Shayla Black

  CRIMSON TWILIGHT by Heather Graham

  CAPTURED IN SURRENDER by Liliana Hart

  SILENT BITE: A SCANGUARDS WEDDING by Tina Folsom

  DUNGEON GAMES by Lexi Blake

  AZAGOTH by Larissa Ione

  NEED YOU NOW by Lisa Renee Jones

  SHOW ME, BABY by Cherise Sinclair

  ROPED IN by Lorelei James

  TEMPTED BY MIDNIGHT by Lara Adrian

  THE FLAME by Christopher Rice

  CARESS OF DARKNESS by Julie Kenner

  Also from 1001 Dark Nights

  TAME ME by J. Kenner

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Two

  Click here to explore

  WICKED WOLF by Carrie Ann Ryan

  WHEN IRISH EYES ARE HAUNTING by Heather Graham

  EASY WITH YOU by Kristen Proby

  MASTER OF FREEDOM by Cherise Sinclair

  CARESS OF PLEASURE by Julie Kenner

  ADORED by Lexi Blake

  HADES by Larissa Ione

  RAVAGED by Elisabeth Naughton

  DREAM OF YOU by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  STRIPPED DOWN by Lorelei James

  RAGE/KILLIAN by Alexandra Ivy/Laura Wright

  DRAGON KING by Donna Grant

  PURE WICKED by Shayla Black

  HARD AS STEEL by Laura Kaye

  STROKE OF MIDNIGHT by Lara Adrian

  ALL HALLOWS EVE by Heather Graham

  KISS THE FLAME by Christopher Rice

  DARING HER LOVE by Melissa Foster

  TEASED by Rebecca Zanetti

  THE PROMISE OF SURRENDER by Liliana Hart

  Also from 1001 Dark Nights

  THE SURRENDER GATE By Christopher Rice

  SERVICING THE TARGET By Cherise Sinclair

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Three

  Click here to explore

  HIDDEN INK by Carrie Ann Ryan

  BLOOD ON THE BAYOU by Heather Graham

  SEARCHING FOR MINE by Jennifer Probst

  DANCE OF DESIRE by Christopher Rice

  ROUGH RHYTHM by Tessa Bailey

  DEVOTED by Lexi Blake

  Z by Larissa Ione

  FALLING UNDER YOU by Laurelin Paige

  EASY FOR KEEPS by Kristen Proby

  UNCHAINED by Elisabeth Naughton

  HARD TO SERVE by Laura Kaye

  DRAGON FEVER by Donna Grant

  KAYDEN/SIMON by Alexandra Ivy/Laura Wright

  STRUNG UP by Lorelei James

  MIDNIGHT UNTAMED by Lara Adrian

  TRICKED by Rebecca Zanetti

  DIRTY WICKED by Shayla Black

  THE ONLY ONE by Lauren Blakely

  SWEET SURRENDER by Liliana Hart

  Sign up for the 1001 Dark Nights Newsletter

  and be entered to win a Tiffany Key necklace.

  There's a contest every month!

  Click here to subscribe.

  As a bonus, all subscribers will receive a free

  1001 Dark Nights story

  The First Night

  by Lexi Blake & M.J. Rose

  Table of Contents

  Book Description

  About K. Bromberg

  Also by K. Bromberg

  Acknowledgments from the Author

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection One

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Two

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Three

  Foreword

  Prologue

  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

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Four

  Discover the World of 1001 Dark Nights

  An excerpt from The Player by K. Bromberg

  Special Thanks

  One Thousand and One Dark Nights

  Once upon a time, in the future…

  I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.

  I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and

  the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast

  library at my father’s home and collected thousands

  of volumes of fantastic tales.

  I learned all about ancient races and bygone

  times. About myths and legends and dreams of all

  people through the millennium. And the more I read

  the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered

  that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually

  become part of them.

  I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher

  and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I

  would not be telling you this tale now.

  But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off

  with bravery.

  One afternoon, curious about the myth of the

  Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to

  see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar

  (Persian: شهريار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then

  sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written

  and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,

  the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand

  women.

  Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived

  in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged

  places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had

  never occurred before and that still to this day, I

  cannot explain.

  Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have

  taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can

  protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to

  protect herself and stay alive.

  Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.

  And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a

  point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.

  And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that

  he might hear the rest of my dark tale.

  As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new

  one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before

  you now.

  Prologue

  Harper

  13 years prior

  With each step I take, my temper burns brighter.

  Hmm. I don’t think they believe you, Harper.

  Step.

  Hmm. Can’t you make that sound more convincing, Harper?

  Another step.

  Hmm. Are you sure your facts are right, Harper?

  Step.

  He’s right behind me. I can feel him. I can smell his cologne. I can sense his adrenaline just as hyped as mine is.

  But in my head all I can hear is him murmur hmm in response to every single point I tried to make during our Master’s debate. A school tradition more important to most of us graduate students than the graduation ceremony itself. One I was looking forward to for weeks but now feel like it’s the bane of my existence.

  Flustered, I shove open the door of the lecture hall, thinking it leads to outside and fresh air––distance from him––but all I’m met with is the stale smell of a connecting classroom in front of me and the sound of his feet behind me.

  “Harp––”

  “Don’t!” I whirl around to face him, the fuse to my temper ignited. “Don’t you dare Harper me.”

  His lips slowly turn up in a lopsided smirk as he narrows his eyes as if he can’t figure out why I’m so upset.

  Not just upset. Livid.

  “What would you like me to call you then?”

  “Go away.” I turn my back to him and begin to pace the room, cursing myself for pushing open the wrong door. Fresh air would have been better. Outside I could have kept walking across campus so he couldn’t catch up.

  “You want to tell me why you’re so pissed off at me?”

  “You’re an asshole.” I toss over my shoulder, knowing that’s the nicest I’m going to get with him right now.

  “Hmm.”

  There’s that goddamn sound again.

  “Stop doing that! You’re driving me crazy.” I rage as I spin around to see him standing there with humor in his eyes. This isn’t funny. Him being an asshole is not funny. “Go away! Stop looking at me like that. I don’t want you to––I’m so angry at you that…that…”

  “Why would you be angry with me?” The blasé way he asks the question makes my temper bristle even more.

  “Why? Who the hell do you think you are? Sitting there on that stage and questioning me with that annoying sound every single time I stepped to the podium to speak. During my opening arguments, during my rebuttals, even my closing statements. It was hmm and hmm and hmm. That’s all I heard.”

  “Yeah. So?” he asks as he steps toward me, shoulders squaring and eyes challenging me.

  My hands fist and teeth grit. His nonchalance only serves to irk me further. “Get. Out.”

  “Why? Are you so high and mighty on that throne of yours that you think you can do no wrong?”

  His words are a verbal slap to the high of winning the debate despite his constant interjecting hmms. I glare at him, my body vibrating, and throw my hands up. “So that’s what this is about? Are you that jealous I beat you out for first in class that you and your precious ego decided to sabotage me during the debate? Are you fricking kidding me?”

  “This isn’t about me and my ego,” he says quietly as he takes a step closer to me.

  “Yeah, right. Like I said, you’re an asshole. Thanks for nothing, Ryder.” I hate that I’m hurt when I should have known better. I hate that I cared that he was judging me.

  He just looks at me with this expression on his face that I can’t quite read but don’t think I want to. “After all this time, that’s how you want to end this?”

  “End what?” What is he talking about?

  Emotion swims in his eyes but I’m so upset and now confused that we stand feet apart without saying a word. He opens his mouth and then closes it before chuckling a disbelieving laugh. “You know what? Forget it. Forget I even followed you back here to congratulate you on winning. Go Bruins! Yay,” he says, the sarcasm thick in his tone as he raises his fist like he’s cheering me on before waving his hands at me like he’s over me and turns to walk out the door.

  “Don’t you dare leave!” I shout the words as panic suddenly fills me over the thought of him actually doing just that.

  His laugh is louder this time as he stops and turns around, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders shrugged as if to say decide. “Make up your mind, Harp. Get out. Don’t leave. What’s it gonna be?”

  That slow, easy tone of his is like the scissors snipping at the final strings of my temper. Tears swim again. “Screw you!”

  He tucks his tongue in his cheek and just shakes his head from side to side. And I’m not sure why I’m looking for a fight but he’s not giving it to me and that only pisses me off further. “You had no right to question me. None.”

  “You’re goddamn right I did!” He’s in front of me in a flash, face a reflection of anger—eyes wide, neck strained, hands fisted—that shocks me. “And I’d do it again in a fucking second, so screw y
ou, Harper. Screw. You.”

  I stand there, a foot from him, my temper seething, my mind a mess, my emotions scattered a million places. “Ryder…”

  “No. Just no. You don’t get to Ryder me either.” He steps into me, well within my personal space, and stares so deeply into my eyes that I want to look away but don’t dare. I meet him match for match. I’m not backing down. And then suddenly, his expression softens. Changes. “Why don’t you see it?”

  “See what?”

  “You’re good, Harper. Fucking brilliant. I’ve sat here for two years—during our entire graduate program for fuck’s sake—hating you and respecting you for that alone. You’re stubborn and smart and you know everything and you’re irritating. You’re goddamn right my ego’s bruised but hell, you deserve it. All of it. You deserved the respect of every single person in that auditorium tonight.”

  “I don’t understand what that has to do with what you—”

  “Don’t you get it? I wanted them to see it too. Not your stage fright. But you. Your mind. Your brilliance.”

  He takes a step back, runs a hand through his hair, squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s not getting his point across, and yet all I can do is stare at him slack-jawed and surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

  And while I watch him struggle with whatever it is he’s trying to finish explaining, I want to reject what he’s saying—his reasons and his praise—but it’s all so clear now. How nervous I was, stumbling over words and not articulating my points. Then the hmms started and it was him I was fixated on. It was the feeling I was used to—wanting to beat him, prove him wrong—that owned my thoughts as my arguments strengthened and my conviction came through.