Calling the Play (The New York Nighthawks #12) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Novella, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport

Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)

All it took was one look for Cole O’Hara to know that Lorna Dunigan was meant to be his. He loved his job as the offensive coordinator for the New York Nighthawks, but that didn’t stop him from risking it all by threatening one of his players to stay away from the younger beauty in a nightclub.

Lorna was immediately swept off her feet by the sexy football coach, but she had no idea what he’d done the night they met. Or how much being with him would change her life.

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Being hired to do hair in a fancy salon in New York City had been my dream when I was a little girl. I used to style all of my dolls…to the point where my mom had to take the safety scissors away from me when I was four because I’d chopped some of their hair way too short. In hindsight, I totally blamed how blunt the edges were on those disastrous looks.

Thanks to cosmetology school, my skills had increased along with the sharpness of my scissors.

It was hard to believe I was living that dream—at least to a certain extent. The salon where I worked was great, but there were better ones in the Upper East Side that were my goal now. And I paid for my chair, which came with advantages I had no idea about when I was younger. Like the flexible schedule that had allowed me to take the next week off.

“C’mon, Lorna,” Ivy called from the living room of our cramped Soho apartment. “If we don’t hurry up, they’ll give away our table at the club.”

My roommate was another perk since we met because we started to work at the salon at the same time. Although we got along great and had a lot in common, she liked to go and do stuff more than I did. When I came home after a long day, all I wanted to do was throw on my jammies and get cozy with a book or show. It was probably good that we lived together since we tended to balance each other out. I made sure she didn’t stay out too late when Ivy had clients booked in the early morning, while she talked me into trying out new restaurants. And a club tonight since we were celebrating my twenty-first birthday.

“Almost done!” Luckily, my mascara was already applied when I rolled my eyes at her excuse for wanting to get out the door so quickly.

Ivy was excited to hit up a club she’d never been to before, especially since she just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago and had only been out for drinks with friends a couple of times since then. But she was in such a rush tonight because one of her clients had gotten us bottle service at The End Zone, which came with a guaranteed table. Since the Nighthawks had their last preseason game tonight at home, her client had warned us that the place would be packed. Apparently, the owner was friends with the quarterback, and the team liked to celebrate their wins at the club.

When a few of Ivy’s childhood friends heard where we were going, they invited themselves to my birthday party. I didn’t know Jen, Stephanie, or Darla very well, but I figured the more the merrier tonight. Especially since we’d have enough people to watch our drinks while the others hit the dance floor. If it’d just been Ivy and me, we really would’ve run the risk of losing our table when she eventually talked me into dancing.

Ivy cracked open the bathroom door and met my gaze in the mirror. “You look great. Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” I asked as I tucked my favorite lipstick into my purse.

She rolled her eyes. “You could arrive in yoga pants and a tee and still look gorgeous.”

“Aw, thanks.” I beamed a smile at her. “And I appreciate you helping me choose an outfit. I wasn’t sure what would work best for a place like The End Zone.”

“Lucky for you, I could put my extensive barhopping experience to good use.” She winked at me before we both started to giggle at her exaggeration. “But seriously, Naomi told me that we’d be fine in just about anything we picked. It’ll run the full gamut from normal to jersey chasers wearing as little as possible in the hope that they can catch the eye of one of the football players.”

“I still can’t believe the wife of the Nighthawks quarterback comes to our salon.” My brows drew together as I shook my head. “Doesn’t she live all the way out in Long Island?”

“You know how women are when it comes to their hair. They’ll drive over state lines—or the East River, in this case—for a good cut and color if they have to.” Ivy tugged me out of the bathroom so she could nudge me out of our apartment. “And Catherine said she was the first stylist to cut Naomi’s hair back when she first moved to the city before she hooked up with the hottie, silver fox quarterback.”

I stuck my tongue out at her as we stepped into the lift. “Owner’s pet.”

“Am not,” she grumbled, not arguing too hard because she knew I was right. Catherine let Ivy get away with a lot more than any of the other stylists who rented booths in our salon. They’d just clicked since day one, which had been great for me since I sometimes benefited from the preferential treatment because I was Ivy’s friend and roommate. Like our chairs being in the best spots.