Dolce (Love at Center Court #2)
Read Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) Online
Authors: Rachel Blaufeld
The Electric Tunnel Series
Crossroads Series
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Not too long ago, I wanted to quit all of this. My words weren’t coming, my head hurt, and my fingers ached.
A fellow author told me not to do it, and shared a little of her own story to encourage me to move forward. She didn’t know me well, nor did she have any vested interest in telling me to continue. Despite that, she gave her ear willingly and her advice graciously.
This is for you, Sarina Bowen.
The following story is a spinoff of
Vérité
, but it’s not necessary for you to read it first. There are a few glimpses into characters from
Vérité
in this book, but this is a complete standalone story.
Dolce
is a separate angst-riddled romantic comedy set a few years in the future, after Tiberius from
Vérité
graduated.
In order to make this sports story work, I had to exert some artistic license in terms of athletic seasons, as well as dates and times of college events. I also made up a college town (Hafton, Ohio), a college (Hafton State University), and team (the Fighting Green), so fans could go on cheering for their own universities and not be hindered by my story.
Much like,
Vérité
, for me
Dolce
was about thinking, debunking stereotypes, and love.
Thank you in advance for reading and falling in love with my ballers.
If you haven’t met the gang in
Vérité
, you can do so
here
.
“Who just stole my thunder across the Hafton airwaves, you ask? Right now, right this very second, listeners, I have Hafton’s one-and-only, the main man with the ball in hand, Blane Steele is in the studio. Mark my words—he’ll not only steal the ball, but your lady’s heart too. Watch out, gentlemen, the Stealer is in the house!”
— Sonny Be Knocking Boots, Hafton Radio 96.9
Coed antics.
Chaos.
Angst-ridden twists in fate.
Caterina is an intern. Sonny is her shock-jock boss. And Blane is a good-hearted baller . . . except when he steps on the court. Between on-air dares, an evil feminist professor, a straight-shooter of a coach, and rumors from the league surrounding Steele, these three are destined to screw it all up.
Rather than a love triangle, this is a friends-to-lovers story where the disc jockey acts as the catalyst, and a basketball player finds his life transformed when center court intersects with love.
Blane
October
S
onny hit the
ON AIR
button and words began spewing from his mouth faster than basketballs from the automatic gun. The guy barely came up for air, and he was damn good—even though he was an obnoxious prick.
I leaned back in my chair, waiting for my interview to start. My hair was still wet from my post-workout shower, a flimsy dark gray Hafton T-shirt stuck to my chest, and skinny sweats hung low on my waist. I flung my feet up on the table, letting the shock jock roll with it. After all, it was his show. At least, that’s what I thought.
“Wassup, Hafton? Sonny Boots here on the radio, working for all of you around the clock, rocking some old school Beastie Boys this Thursday. Don’t you worry your pretty little heads; I’ll be mixing it up later for you barflies. I know you all will be itching to go out and get loaded. I’m pulling some funky tracks as I speak, but if you have a request, e-mail the station or tweet me at Sonny B underscore KnocknBoots. You got all that?”
Rolling my eyes for no one to see, I grabbed the mic. “They got it, dude. And if not, it’s plastered on the big sign above the station.”
My voice sounded a little more gravelly than usual. I must have shouted more than I thought in pickup today.
Clearly, I’m not meant to be a radio announcer.
Sonny jumped back in. “Who, you ask, just stole my thunder across the Hafton airwaves? Right now, right this very second, listeners, I have Hafton’s one-and-only, the main man with the ball in hand, Blane Steele in the studio. Mark my words, he’ll not only steal your ball, but your lady’s heart too. Watch out, gentlemen, the Stealer is in the house!”
This got a laugh from me.
Sports Illustrated
had dubbed me “the Stealer” last year after my sophomore season, and the moniker stuck.
“Steele’s a well-known predator,” he continued, “on the court and off. He’s getting ready to start his third year of eligibility, and NBA gossip has been swirling around him since the end of last year. Oh, and every lady in the house is swooning for him, especially after that breakout sophomore season. Forgive me, but why the heck didn’t you go to the big guys last year? Why are you still here in the middle of Ohio, gracing us with your glory?”
“Yeah, I know, but credit wise I was going into my senior year. I redshirted my first year, so I wanted to finish my degree, be the first person in my family to graduate,” I mumbled into the mic. Quickly realizing I was tarnishing my bad-as-hell rep, I added, “And I like you too much, Sonny. Why would I give up another year of listening to you and your stupid antics?”
