Love Wasn't the Goal: A Surprise Pregnancy Romance (Audiobook)

Professional basketball had always been Nico Maxwell's dream -- but a life-altering diagnosis changed his plans. When his goals were crushed, it took him some time to realize he had to live life fully and spontaneously. Instead of planning for the future with a career, wife, & family--he's taking life one day, one woman at a time.

Marketing Expert, Destiny Harlow, thought her girlfriend title would soon be upgraded to wifey. That was until her boyfriend broke her heart. She was crushed and found an old friend, Nico Maxwell, the perfect guy to help ease her heartache.

A growing baby bump was not what either expected. But was what they needed to help change their perspective on their life goals.

“Ah, discrimination at its finest. Here I was thinking being a Black man in America had its difficulties.” I shook my head. “A Black man with a heart disease, damn. More ways to hold me back,” I joked.

“Glad to see you in good spirits, Nico,” Dr. Wilson told me as he headed to the door. “Don’t do anything that will test the limits of your heart, got it?”

My lips tightened and I didn’t make any promises. Like Dr. Wilson said, since my diagnosis, that was the one thing I promised myself, I’d live fully. The disease had taken away enough. I deserved to be out there living it up, making up for what was lost.

At least that’s what I told myself. I figured after a life-altering diagnosis, I had two options. Retreat, and live life carefully, afraid of what could happen next. Or bounce back, better than I was before. There was a third, less interesting option, make sure my legacy lived on through my seed. I called that one the Nick Cannon option, and because I wasn’t the fatherly type, that option was off the table for me. I was good with the favorite uncle title, at most.

I hopped down from the exam table, bundled up the bare-all hospital gown, and used my shooting arm to shoot it into the bin beside me. Once I was dressed, and exiting the doctor’s office—helmet in hand—I was ready to hit up the nearest bar for a toast, to ten years of living.
The streets of Atlanta weren’t easy to navigate during rush hour, but on the back of my all-black Suzuki GSX-R1000, I was weaving in and out of cars, zipping past the standstill. Pulling up to The Establishment, I made sure the few ladies walking in heard my engine rev before I parked nearby.

A couple of years ago, I picked up another daring adventure. I started riding a bike, and hadn’t stopped. The adrenaline rush as the wind whipped past me gave me that feeling that I was dribbling the ball down the court, ready to shoot, as I watched everyone in awe of my athletic abilities.

Maybe it was, “Risking it,” as my mama tried to tell me. Not the safest way I could spend, “my second chance.” But what good was a second chance if I tiptoed through life as if it couldn’t be taken from me in a blink? I remembered that as I strolled into the bar, on the lookout for Hendrix, and eyeing any women that could have been my adventure for the night.

“Yo,” I yelled as I walked up to the bar. Hendrix was in the middle of his order to the bartender when I told him, “Let me grab an Old Fashioned.” I leaned against the bar and looked around—happy hour was packed. I looked down the bar and saw the ladies who were walking in when I pulled up. One, with dreads down her back, was looking my way.

“Damn, bruh,” I whispered to Hendrix as he handed me a drink. “I may go down and chat with ol’ girl.”

He looked down the bar, in her direction, then smiled back at me. “Do you, bruh.” He smirked. “What better way to celebrate than to have someone to take home with you tonight?”

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