You’re The One For Me Read online Hope Ford (Player Loves Curves #5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Player Loves Curves Series by Hope Ford

Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 73(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

You're The One For Me (Player Loves Curves #5)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Hope Ford

Book Information:

You’re Mine, Pretty Girl

At first, I wanted to protect her. Then I wanted to make her mine. She likes me, but she doesn’t like everything that comes with dating a baseball player.

When she makes a choice, is it the right one? Or am I going to have to prove she’s the one for me?
Books in Series:

Player Loves Curves Series by Hope Ford

Books by Author:

Hope Ford



I lift my leg up and rotate my ankle, trying to get relief to my foot. I’m only on my fifth hour, but my feet don’t feel like it. It seems like the twentieth. I put my foot down and rotate the other one, trying to figure out how I’m going to make the next three hours. This waitressing gig isn’t easy, especially when I work the special VIP events. But as long as I keep reminding myself how much more it pays an hour plus tips, I know I can get through it.

“No time for dawdling, Serenity.” My boss walks by me and tsks at me. He is a control freak and he seems even more stressed about this event compared to the others. I get it; there are a lot more high status names for this one, but man, give me a break. I haven’t had one, and I’m feeling it.

I smile at him, trying to cover up what I really want to say to him, then pick up the tray filled with hors d’oeuvres that is ready to go out and walk back into the ballroom. When I first started working the special events, I was excited about meeting celebrities. But the more I worked them the more I realized that most of them—not all, but most of them—are usually especially difficult customers with even worse manners. A man takes an appetizer off the tray as I hold it out to him. He doesn’t look me in the eye, no thank you, nothing. I walk away muttering to myself, “Oh well, another day, another dollar.”

I stop at the next group of people and offer the tray to them. They all shake their heads or ignore me, so I start to walk away. I get only a few steps and am stopped with a hand on my waist. I suck in a breath, preparing myself. There’s always some random asshole that has to take being handsy too far. I pull gently from his grasp and turn to him, putting the tray between us. The man puts his hand on my arm and slides it up to my shoulder.

Gritting my teeth, I say, “Hawaiian chicken bite, sir?” I press the tray toward him and back away.

There’s always a fine line on how to deal with these situations. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve been grabbed on the ass tonight. Of course, the boss doesn’t care about me and he certainly doesn’t want me to offend any of the VIPs. I keep my face calm, hiding my disgust behind a small smile.

He looks at me lecherously and says with a big grin, “No, but I know what I’d like a bite of.”

Without commenting, I turn to walk away, but he holds on to my hips and slides up behind me, pressing his front to my back. The tray teeters in my hand and I grab on to it to keep it from falling. If I lose any of these prepared snacks, they’ll be coming out of my check. When I get it steady, I turn to the man, about to let him have it.

“I suggest you leave the lady alone,” says a man to the guy that just had his hands on me.

The creep looks up into the face of the man that came to my defense. I can tell he’s about to say something, start an argument, but when he finally cranes his neck all the way backwards to look into his face, he decides otherwise. With one last look at me, the asshole walks away.

Sputtering, I take a deep breath, happy that there wasn’t a scene. I look up at the man, taking in his full, hard body, his dark complexion and short beard. He’s staring down at me with concern filling his face. “You okay?”

I set the tray on the nearest table and try to get my wits about me. His hand touches me on the center of my back and I gasp at the contact. When I turn back to him, he’s apologizing with his hands up in the air. I can feel heat rushing to my face. He thought I took offense to his touch, but if anything, it was the opposite.

I never touch the customers, but with him, I reach out, putting my hand on his forearm. I can feel the muscles flex, but he doesn’t pull away. “I’m sorry I’m so jumpy. Thank you for helping me with that.” I nod in the direction of the retreating man.

His one hand drops, but the arm that I’m holding stays where it is, as if he’s not wanting to lose contact. I let out an embarrassed laugh and slide my hand to his to shake it. “I’m Serenity.” I know I’m looking up at him with awe on my face, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a guy act like a real gentleman. The tattoos on his arms stand out to me and I try to get a closer look without being obvious.