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Charleston Pirates #1


Copyright © 2021 Jacob Chance

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

Cover design by PopKitty Designs

Edited and Proofread by Ink Machine Editing

This book contains mature content.

Winning isn’t everything… It’s the only thing

Vince Lombardi



1. Flynn

2. Nadia

3. Flynn

4. Nadia

5. Flynn

6. Nadia

7. Flynn

8. Nadia

9. Flynn

10. Nadia

11. Flynn

12. Nadia

13. Flynn

14. Nadia

15. Flynn

16. Nadia

17. Flynn

18. Nadia

19. Flynn

20. Flynn

21. Nadia

22. Flynn

23. Nadia

24. Flynn

25. Flynn

26. Flynn




Chapter One


About the Author

Prologue Flynn

My eyes jump to the giant scoreboard as we huddle up for a final time. The clock’s almost run out and we have no more timeouts remaining. This is our last chance. If we don’t score on this drive, we’re finished.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want any regrets. I’m not ready for our season to be over,” Darren, our quarterback, grits out between labored breaths. “We’ve busted our balls day in and day out all season and we’re one play away from making it to the big game. Let’s go claim our victory.” He lowers his voice, letting us know what the next play will be. Breaking from the huddle, we line up.

Dragging in a long, slow breath, I draw oxygen into my tight lungs. The other team’s defense has been playing aggressively and we’re exhausted. Every inch of my body is sore, but I dig deep, summoning a final burst of energy.

Darren catches the snap, and I spring from the balls of my feet, bursting forward and gaining momentum while at the same time shaking off a defender. Once I’m free, I break into a full-blown run, racing down the field for the pass Darren throws. The spiraling football hurtles toward me and I reach up to catch the well thrown pass. Barely hitting my fingertips, the ball is knocked free before I can contain it. Reaching out, I make a last desperate attempt to recover the pigskin before it hits the ground. But it’s no use—all my effort is in vain. The realization hits me with a juddering force as I crash into the ground.

And just as quick as the snap of two fingers, our season is over.




“Another round for my friends,” I tell the cocktail waitress in the VIP area of the club.

“Sure thing.” She looks me over appreciatively and smiles.

She’s attractive enough to tempt me, but I already have my hands full—literally—with a sexy blonde and an equally sexy brunette. With my arms wrapped around them, they each occupy a seat on one of my thighs. And judging by their smiles, neither of them seem to mind sharing my attention, which bodes well for me. This night just keeps improving. First, we won our game, and now, I’ve hit the hook-up jackpot with the two hottest women here.

The waitress reappears, setting drinks down on the small tables in front of the long, armless couch.

“Thank you,” I say. “When you get a chance, I’d like another round.”

“Flynn, go easy, brother,” Darren cautions.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. I couldn’t feel better. We kicked the Storm’s asses, and now I’m just celebrating with my teammates.”

“Don’t forget us,” blondie says with a giggle.

“As if I could.” I wink. My new brunette friend hands me my drink before passing the rest out to our group, keeping one for herself. I down the whiskey in three large gulps, barely tasting it until the final swallow.

“Flynn,” Darren calls my name, giving me a concerned glance.

“Dude, stop acting like an old man. Can’t you let loose a little and live?”

“You can have a good time without getting shitfaced,” he reasons, but I’m not in the mood to listen to anything he has to say. No matter how logical it might be. It doesn’t make a difference that he’s my best friend and has been since college. None of that carries any weight when I’m feeling restless and don’t know why.

Whenever I get this way, my reckless side comes out. Similar to a genie in a lamp, once it’s released, there’s no simple way to put it away. I wish there was a magical phrase I could say to snap myself out of my self-destructive mode.

You know that voice in the back of your head telling you not to do something? Well, I don’t have one, at least not one that functions properly. Mine eggs me on, daring me to do my worst. I don’t need a crazy friend to make bets with me; my subconscious takes care of that on its own.

Darren and other friends have told me many times that I don’t know when to stop. That I can’t set limits for myself. That I’m my own worst enemy and I sabotage myself. And maybe that’s all true.

But at least I have a good time while I’m fucking everything up. I give one hundred percent no matter what I do. Good or bad. That should count for something.

As the night goes on, I lose track of how much I’ve had to drink. My new friends have become exceedingly affectionate with me, and each

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