Table of Contents
Full Throttle Title Page
Dedications & Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
THANK YOU
INSPIRATIONAL PLAYLIST
OTHER BOOKS BY LASHAWN VASSER
Full Throttle
By
LaShawn Vasser
Full Throttle © 2020 LaShawn Vasser
All Rights Reserved
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.
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*EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT*
WARNING
This novel is considered romantic fiction with erotic elements or erotica. This book is for mature audiences only. This book contains profane adult language, mild violence, and strong sexual content.
Dedications & Acknowledgments
My heart. My muse. You own it.
Chapter 1
Colby James screamed in horror but couldn’t utter a single sound. Reeling from the scene unfolding, she still had the presence of mind to sprint over toward the raging fire.
She had to get him out of that burning inferno. Only the blaze was too hot, making it impossible to get near but close enough that her skin felt like it was melting off the bones. The blistering heat licked at her hands and face. She put them up to protect herself and would have kept charging forward if someone hadn’t grabbed her from behind and held her back.
The air was thick with billowing black smoke. Colby choked and gasped for air. “No!” she cried out and, seconds later, dropped to her knees upon the realization that no one would be able to save him.
Feeling helpless, a deluge of tears fell from her eyes.
He was burning alive.
Colby’s head thrashed back and forth against her tear-soaked pillow. And just when she thought her heart would shatter into a million tiny pieces, she woke up.
In a panic and still coughing on the smoke from her dreams, Colby bolted upright. For the briefest of moments, she was completely disoriented until she recognized the soft yellow curtains of her bedroom.
A light sheen of perspiration covered her entire body. She threw off the comforter and placed a trembling hand over her racing heart.
Breathe in, she coached herself, exhale. Slowly, Colby released the air trapped in her lungs.
Another nightmare. This had been a bad one and felt far too real, even though her dream hadn’t exactly mirrored that fateful day, but it was close enough.
Colby closed her eyes and continued her breathing exercises several more times until she began to settle down. Once Colby felt more in control, she picked up the water bottle next to her bed and took a long sip.
She dreaded this time of year. It always brought on too many painful memories, both real and imagined. Why doesn’t the age-old adage of time healing all wounds not apply?
She worked hard to bury the pain of this anniversary. Colby did her best to keep busy for every waking moment of the day, but nights were another story. She couldn’t control those. It was then that every thought she desperately wanted to suppress would surface. This year had been particularly brutal. It was probably because there was so much uncertainty swirling around this anniversary.
Cloaked in darkness and silence, Colby couldn’t wait for the morning; only, this night seemed to last forever. Her anxiety levels were through the roof.
Colby glanced at the wall clock. The numbers glowed 3:23 a.m. Ugh. Ten minutes from the last time I checked. Restless and worn-out, Colby rolled over onto her side and yawned. I’ll just stay awake. She was determined not to fall back to sleep because, as soon as her eyes closed, she knew those terrible nightmares would return.
They always did.
Less than an hour later, Colby’s eyes began to drift low, and not unlike most two-year-olds, she fought it. They fluttered open only to almost close several times. Finally, she succumbed to the darkness.
It was then that she was forced to relive the most painful day of her life . . . again.
The conditions for the race were perfect.
Colby basked in the smell of high-octane fuel and listened to the roar of the engines.
It was impossible to contain her emotions, so she didn’t even try. She was giddy with excitement as she walked around the garage, watching all the top drivers prepare.
The same energy that she felt was spread throughout the entire complex, but especially Daughtry Racing. They were awash with it because this race was special.
Daughtry Racing was about to make history. Colby fully understood the significance of the moment. Bill Lester was the only black man to ever race in a major NASCAR Cup series but had never won. Today would be the day that all changed. For the first time, a black man was going to win in a major NASCAR Cup race. Colby could feel it throughout her whole body, and she was going to be part of it. She didn’t care that her role mainly consisted of being a back-up stat recorder.
“What’s up, squirt?” She had been daydreaming when the man of the hour snuck up behind her.
Colby pivoted and glanced up into a pair of beautiful brown eyes. They called him The Magician because he was so good at getting in and out of tight jams while driving at ungodly speeds. He stood over six-feet tall with
