“I can’t win,” I said. “It’ll look like it’s rigged. Oliver’s only just got out of one betting scandal. We don’t want another one.”

“Oh who cares,” Maisie replied. “Just go down there, smile, and collect the tickets, then give them to a charity auction or maybe your little sister.”

“They’re going to charity,” I said, standing up and beginning the slow descent down the long stairs.

A decent amount of the seats in the ground were empty while people stocked up on food and drink at the interval, but there were still tens of thousands watching me as I made my way down to the field.

Oliver and a camera crew walked over to my side of the field, so at least I didn’t have to trek across there in heels.

I tried to focus on Oliver’s smiling face, and pretend it was just the two of us. I’d never gotten the hang of all the fame that followed Oliver around, and having the attention focused on me was entirely foreign.

Oliver still had a microphone in his hand from when he had announced the winning number. Please don’t make me speak. Please, anything but speaking in front of all these people.

The crowd sounded a lot louder once I was down on the field, but I just about heard someone from the NFL congratulate me on my win.

Oliver passed me the envelope with the tickets and kissed me on the cheek. A photographer insisted on taking a few photos, so Oliver put his arm around me and I just about managed a smile even though I was terrified.

“Now take the tickets out of the envelope and hold them up,” the photographer ordered.

I just wanted to get this over with now, so I opened the envelope and reached inside. “It’s empty,” I said to the photographer.

“They must be in there,” he said. “Look again.”

I held the envelope open and looked inside. “I’m telling you it’s—” The envelope wasn’t empty. Nestled in the corner was something round and incredibly shiny.

I examined the diamond ring between my fingers as if it were the first ring I’d ever seen. It was certainly the first ring anyone had ever bought me, and this one looked a lot like an engagement ring.

I turned to look at Oliver, but he wasn’t next to me anymore. I looked back to the photographer but just saw Oliver on his knees in front of me.

“I know we’ve only been together eight months,” Oliver said, “but we spent eight years apart, so in my book this is long overdue. Michelle, will you marry me?”

Someone shoved a microphone in front of my face, and it was only then I realized his words had been amplified around the entire stadium. The previously empty seats were now full, and every person was eagerly awaiting my response.

None more so than Oliver. “Yes,” I replied, quietly. The microphone didn’t pick up my response, but I was crying now and couldn’t say it again. I looked into Oliver’s eyes and nodded my head vigorously.

He stood up and pushed the microphone out of the way, before placing his hand on the back of my head and pulling me towards him for a kiss.

Maisie later told me that everyone in the crowd was whistling and cheering, but I couldn’t hear anything. At that moment there was only Oliver and me. No one else.

Eventually we were encouraged to head back up to the stands so that the players could get on with the second half. I have no idea what happened. All I can remember is sitting there holding Oliver’s hand with the slight sensation of weightlessness that made me feel like I was flying.

I didn’t stop smiling for at least a week. Even when Dad tried to get in touch to congratulate me, I just kept smiling and told him he could come to the wedding if he wanted. Nothing was going to spoil my mood.

I never did get my Super Bowl tickets, though.

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The debut stepbrother romance novel from Jessica Ashe

Last week I made the biggest mistake of my life--Caiden Ramsden. He's a cocky, arrogant prick who is sleeping his way around London. I normally stay well clear of bad-boys, but he's ripped, sexy, and impossible to resist.

I'm supposed to be clever. I'm a straight A student going to the University of Cambridge. So why was I attracted to such an arsehole? I should know better.

Sleeping with him was a big mistake, but I had no idea just how big until he showed up at my house with his mom. Caiden is about to be my new stepbrother. I have to forget what happened between us, but I don't know how to get him out of my head. And I'm not sure I want to.

Women claim to hate me. Apparently I'm arrogant and cocky, but that doesn't stop women lining up to screw me. And they always come back for more. It turns out posh English women love American bad boys.

Sure, I slept around, but I had rules in place. Rules that had served me well until Vicky came into my life.

The Golden Rule = don't sleep with any first-timers.

I had that rule in place for a reason, but I couldn't help myself when Vicky made her intentions clear. I broke the Golden Rule and my world collapsed around me.

Now I needed Vicky in my life, but she was about to be my stepsister. Vicky had given me the most memorable night of my life. Stepsister or not, there was no way I was letting her go without a fight.

This is a standalone novel with a HEA and no cliffhanger. Contains scenes of a sexual nature and is intended for adults only.

The man flashed a grin at me as he walked out of the convenience store clutching a large box of condoms. Caiden? It couldn’t be him. I’d been seeing his face everywhere since I lost my virginity to him last week. I must have been imagining things.

Caiden couldn’t be here. Not in my local corner shop a hundred miles from where he was staying in London.

There was no mistaking that grin, though. It screamed ‘I’m a cocky, arrogant, arsehole who’s in love with my own reflection.’

That grin had charmed most of the girls I went to school with, and a few of them even ended up going back to his penthouse in London for drunken one-night stands.

So had I. He’d grinned at me like that when I’d undressed in front of him last week just before he took my virginity.