“Look. Here it is. That solo was pure perfection.”

  The three of them bent to watch the replay of Emma’s dance, Emma’s brown eyes shining big as she watched.

  “Someday,” Konstantina said, “you’ll be on an even bigger stage.”

  When Daisy got her phone back, she got caught watching some of the other bits of the performance. “Man. Some of these kids really need to work on their posture. And look at this one—he’s sleeping on the job!”

  James snickered. “Babe, this isn’t a game review. They’re fourth graders.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Old habits.” She tucked her phone away, sending him a pretty grin. “Now where were we?”

  Around them, the table buzzed in different conversations. Alex and Dmitri were lost in conversation about the particulars of the menu; Konstantina and Emma were having an enthusiastic chat about other dance styles. Which meant now was the perfect time for him to continue canoodling his woman in relative private, while the family was distracted.

  He gripped her chin between thumb and forefinger, searching those pretty brown eyes. “You’re beautiful, Katrakis. You know that?”

  “A certain man tells me as much,” she replied, “but he can’t be trusted. He’s pretty enamored with me, so I think he’s biased.”

  He grunted, tugging at her chair so that she fit inside his arm. “He’s incredibly biased.”

  Their dinner was full of celebration and excitement. The way most of James’s days were now—even when the Sharks lost, or he was having a rough day, it didn’t hit him as hard. Not when he had Daisy in his corner, and this beautiful family at his side.

  When he and Daisy and Emma made it back to his house later that night, James waited until Emma was upstairs getting ready for bed to dive into something he’d been wanting to bring up with Daisy. It had been at the back of his mind for a long time, but he figured now was as good a time as any to get on the same page with her. Because he had a pretty big new page he wanted to turn with her.

  They sat in the den, in James’s famous leather recliner—the only spot they deemed worth sitting. He relished the weight of her in his lap, the fragrant warmth of her as she nuzzled against him. This was how they’d been ending their days for two months, and if James had his way, for the rest of their lives.

  “So,” James said, starting a slow rock in the recliner, “you ever thought about formally merging the Katrakis-Sullivan bloodlines?”

  Laughter erupted out of her. “Why, you ready to merge genes?”

  “Babe, I’ve been ready for that since day one,” he teased, nipping at her earlobe. “Shit, I’d have you pregnant twenty times over by now if I could.”

  She swatted at his chest. “Now that sounds like something fit for a fantasy novel.”

  “Well?” He buried his face into the lush curtain of her hair. “I might not be able to handle myself if I saw you pregnant with my baby, though. Fair warning.”

  Her cheeks were pink as she tossed her head back and laughed. “Yes, James, I’ve thought about it. Things are pretty perfect as they are right now, though. Doesn’t mean I’m not open to it.”

  “It’s your call, babe,” James said, brushing a kiss against her cheek. “Just know, I am ready to be your baby daddy.”

  She rubbed at his chest. “Maybe a little further down the line. Once my career settles. We can plan it with the off-season.”

  “Mm. That made me hard,” he said, grinding into her from below. She giggled, adjusting her position on top of him. “Though I’m a little sad I can’t knock you up right now and demand a shotgun wedding.”

  “You want a shotgun wedding, too?” She tutted, shaking her head. “These NFL retirees. They quit their day job and suddenly want everything.”

  James squeezed her hips, his heart pounding. She thought he was kidding. While he held her teasing gaze, he reached into his pocket and brought out the diamond ring he’d been keeping hidden from her for the past month. He’d brought it with him on so many occasions—even to dinner that night—in case the right moment presented itself. But here it was. Finally.

  “If not a shotgun wedding,” he said softly, “what about a real one?”

  Daisy’s eyes widened once her gaze landed on the ring he held between his thumb and forefinger. She reached for it, but he held it away from her, a grin erupting.

  “Dammit, James!” she said, lunging for it while laughter rolled out of her. They scrambled like this for a few moments until he finally let her have it, both of them rolling with laughter.

  “Only you would make a sport out of asking me to marry you,” she said, dabbing at her eyes as she admired the ring.

  “Only you would appreciate me doing that,” he replied, stroking her soft hair. “Daisy, will you marry me?”

  Her eyes shone with tears as she looked up at him, nodding so hard it seemed like her head might fall off. “Yes, James. Of course I will. How could I not? You’re the only man for me.”

  “And you’ve known it since high school,” he said with a grin, before pulling her into a warm, salt-tinged kiss.

  Finally, the world around him made sense. Everything felt right.

  And it was only because he had a lifetime ahead of him to look forward to, with his beautiful family at his side.

  End of Red Zone

  First Down, March 25th, 2021

  Red Zone, April 1st, 2021

  Touchdown, April 8th, 2021

  Can’t get enough football romance? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from Touchdown and Healing the Quarterback.

  Thank you!

  Thank you so much for purchasing my book. It’s hard for me to put into words how much I appreciate my readers. If you enjoyed this book, please remember to leave a review. Reviews are crucial for an author’s success and I would greatly appreciate it if you took the time to review the book. I love hearing from you!

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  About Leslie North

  Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.

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  BLURB

  Maxwell Smith, star wide receiver for the Savannah Sharks, never saw himself becoming a father. He’s got his life and career carefully laid out and his focus is entirely on football. But the deaths of his sister and brother-in-law leave him as sole guardian of their triplets, throwing all his plans out the window. If he’s going to make this shift in his life work, he needs a Hail Mary pass. And he finds it with Gillian Collier, the triplet’s aunt, who just happens to stir Max’s blood in a way that’s completely unexpected. And unwelcome—at least at first…

  The last thing Jill needs in her life is a hot football player whose idea of commitment is going on a second date. She’s been burned by a cheater before and has no interest going down that road again. But she just can’t help falling for Max. He’s kind, intelligent, and the sexiest man she’s ever known. Still, it’s hard to trust a guy who’s happily surrounded with women. Who seems to miss his carefree days as a single guy. Who just might break her heart…

  Grab your copy of Touchdown

  Available April 8th, 2021

  www.LeslieNorthBooks.com

  EXCERPT

  Chapter One

  “Are you sure you don’t need me anymore today?”

  The nanny’s innocent question almost made Maxwell laugh. He’d hired Kelsey two weeks ago, but the past fourteen days clearly hadn’t helped him adjust any better to the new role of Daddy he’d been handed.

  “I swear, I can handle it from here,” Maxwell told the helpful but still clearly worried brunette who spent every morning and afternoon watching the triplets, who were currently sitting in a circle in the living room, taking turns screaming “Cat!”

  “Even if it still looks like I have no idea what I’m doing—I am getting the hang of things.”

  Kelsey laughed a little but didn’t look convinced. And hell, Maxwell wasn’t convinced either. After all, he’d gone from bachelor NFL superstar to single father of three without any warning.

  It wasn’t every day that people had their lives completely upended like he’d had. But he liked to think he was handling it as best he could, with a nanny and plenty of googling about what two-year-olds were and weren’t supposed to eat.

  “Well, just let me know if you’ll need me tomorrow,” Kelsey said, slinging her purse strap over her pale shoulder as she prepared to leave. “I’m okay coming in on my day off if you need something.” She went over to the triplets then, pressing a kiss to the top of their heads in turn. “Bye, Cameron. Bye, Shelley. Bye, Kevin.”

  The kids spared only a moment from their game to wave goodbye to Kelsey. She offered Maxwell a small smile as she headed for the front door.

  “Just let me know if you need anything in the meantime, okay?” She seared him with a serious look, which he appreciated, despite the undertones of maybe you can’t handle this. Kelsey’s agency had been recommended to him by a Sharks teammate who had lost his wife to cancer a few years back and needed grief-specialized nannies to fill in the gaps in childcare.

  And while Maxwell hadn’t lost his wife, he had lost his stepsister. Kelsey had been doing a good job navigating the weird situation, that much was certain. She wasn’t poking fun at him for what he didn’t know, only offering gentle tips and plenty of reassurance that she could come back if needed.

  “I appreciate that, but we’ll see you in two days,” Maxwell said, following her to the front door of his expansive, Mediterranean-style oasis.

  What he needed right now wasn’t more nanny.

  What he needed right now was a stiff drink and a beautiful woman to take his mind off things. But he knew neither of those would be in the cards for quite some time. Stiff drinks were to be avoided this close to the playoffs, and beautiful women…well, he could find plenty of those in the NFL fan club. But he’d entered a whole new level of cautious when it came to who entered his circle, with the triplets a part of his world now.

  Which meant NFL fan club indulgences were temporarily postponed until his life got back to something resembling normal.

  Except when will that be?

  The question returned to him as he followed the shrieks and screeches of the toddlers back into the living room. His bachelor pad had been converted from a lush, leather-lined paradise into the equivalent of a daycare explosion. Wooden blocks lay scattered everywhere while Peppa Pig went unwatched in the background on his 77” flat-screen. A miniature kitchen sat in the corner, tiny plastic foods tossed everywhere from what Kelsey had affectionately called “a food fight” right before Maxwell got home from practice.

  This was the whirlwind his life had become after the freak accident took his stepsister and her husband from this world. Their wills named Maxwell as the custodial guardian in the event that anything should happen to both parents.

  And of course he’d visited the triplets plenty of times throughout their two years of life. He just hadn’t visited enough to truly get a taste of what raising them might be like.

  “Okay, kids,” he boomed when he returned to the living room. Shelley had curled up in his recliner—his spot, until the kids had come along—while Cameron and Kevin banged on a small xylophone, their dark heads of hair nearly touching as they focused on the music. “We ready for a successful public outing or what?”

  Nobody responded; all three continued exactly what they were doing.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Maxwell clapped his hands together, as though signaling to the two-year-olds that the time was now.

  “Unka Mack!” Shelley clapped her hands together, her dark curls bouncing. Unka Mack was the closest she could get to saying Uncle Maxwell. The other two just called him Mack.

  While Shelley repeated his name, Maxwell clapped along with her. But when he stopped clapping, a different pounding continued.

  He twisted, listening closely. Thud thud thud.

  The front door. He held up a finger to the triplets. “Nobody move. Unka Mack will be Unka back.” He smirked to himself as he jogged toward the front door. They were too young to groan—or appreciate—his bad dad jokes, which had started sidling out of him, unbidden, within the first week. Mark and James, his best buddies on the Sharks, both promised him this was a normal development in the parenting timeline. Maxwell just hadn’t thought it would hit so soon.

  His footsteps squeaked over the recently shined marble of his foyer. He peered through the sidelight at the front door but couldn’t see who was there. He pulled the door open, half-expecting Kelsey looking for a forgotten item from her workday.

  Instead, a gorgeous Black woman stood on his porch. A huge handbag dangled from the crook of her arm, and her black hair was swept off to one side of her heart-shaped face. She looked up at him with the biggest eyes he’d ever seen.

  “Hi,” she started, maybe nervously. “Are you Maxwell?”

  He blinked dumbly. He had no idea if he was Maxwell. All he could focus on was the way her shy smile revealed the golden-brown sheen of her cheeks. He blinked a few times, clutching the doorframe for support.

  He’d wished for a gorgeous woman—he just hadn’t expected that request to be answered so promptly.

  “Uh,” he began, swallowing hard as shards of clarity began clicking into place. “H-how did you get in here?”

  Because that was the matter at hand. He lived in a gated drive; no one could enter without the key code or calling him first. No matter how gorgeous they were.

  The beauty rolled her lips together, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry if I barged—I spoke with the woman who just left, and she told me that it was fine to come up here since I’m looking to see the kids. I’m Gillian Collier—Wayne Collier’s cousin. He left me in charge of his estate.”

  Realization thudded through him at the mention of the name Wayne Collier—his stepsister’s husband. The father of the triplets. He nodded, stepping aside as he gestured for her to come in. “Gillian. Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. Come in.”

  His mind swirled as she stepped into the house, her wide, brown eyes sweeping across the foyer. “But call me Jill, please.”

  “Of course. Jill. And yes,” he responded to her initial question, much too late, “I’m Maxwell. Call me Maxwell. Or Max. Or…Unka Mack. Take your pick.”

  He wasn’t sure how he’d missed this addition to the extended family tree. He’d certainly never heard of a Gillian—or Jill—much less seen her hanging around the family events or reunions. An eyebrow lifted as she looked over at him.

  “They always told me you were in football, but it wasn’t until recently that I realized you were the Maxwell Smith from the Sharks.”

  He smirked, shutting the front door behind her. “Jeez. They must not have talked about me too much, huh?”

  “Oh, here and there,” she said, sweeping some hair out of her eyes. Her lips curled at the edges. “But for the past couple years, I’ve been living overseas, so whenever I saw them, it was more about catching up. And getting to know the kids.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’re excited to see them.” His heart thudded as he led the way deeper into the house, toward the living room where the triplets awaited. “Were you at the funeral last week?” He sure would have remembered this face.

  “No, I wasn’t.” She sighed. “My flight was canceled, and I couldn’t make it back in time. It broke my heart that I couldn’t be there.”

  Questions swarmed him, but none made the leap past his lips because the second they stepped into the living room, the triplets started screaming with excitement. The three toddled over, stumbling and laughing in the process.

  “Auntie! Auntie!”

  “There are my little stars!” Jill crouched down to receive their hugs as the three of them tumbled into her arms. Maxwell cocked his head, watching with interest. International traveler, yet somehow she knew the kids this well…yes, the questions were accumulating rapidly.

  Jill kissed each of them in turn multiple times before releasing them. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you all,” she gushed.

  Shelley began tugging at Jill’s hand, guiding her toward the play kitchen. Maxwell eased onto the edge of the long couch against the far wall of the room. A sea of toys stretched between him and the others. Peppa Pig snorted from the television screen.