Rookie mistakes, p.1
Rookie Mistakes, page 1
ROOKIE MISTAKES
A LIGHTS OUT NOVEL
BETH LAYCOCK
Rookie Mistakes- A Lights Out Novel
Copyright ©2023 Beth Laycock
Cover design by Meredith Russell
Edited by No Stone Unturned Editing
Proofread by Judy’s Proofreading
Published by Rainbow Romance Press
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer-to-peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of Copyright Law.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.
The people in the images are models and should not be connected to the characters in the book. Any resemblance is incidental.
Warning
This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Epigraph
Dedication
Rookie Mistakes
Blurb
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
Epilogue
Team Orders - RJ Scott
Full Throttle - Lisa Henry
Pole Position - Charlie Novak
Scoring Points - H.L. Day
Black Flagged - Emma Jaye
Rookie Mistakes - Beth Laycock
Also by Beth Laycock
About the Author
Author note
“Anything happens in Grand Prix racing, and it usually does.”
— Murray Walker
DEDICATION
For the real-life Libby. For making our days at work entertaining, and being as excited as me when I told you I was writing this book xxx
And for RJ (without whom I may never have finished this book), Lisa, Charlie, H.L., and Emma for making my first multi-author series so much fun!
BOOKS IN THE LIGHTS OUT COLLECTION
Each book in the collection is a standalone story, and can be read on its own.
Team Orders - RJ Scott
Full Throttle - Lisa Henry
Pole Position - Charlie Novak
Scoring Points - H.L. Day
Black Flagged - Emma Jaye
Rookie Mistakes - Beth Laycock
BLURB
Can a rookie mistake lead to love?
Mitch Griffiths is an ordinary man just trying to make ends meet. He lost everything thanks to his ex: his restaurant, his partner, his home. So, when his dad gifts him a ticket to the British Grand Prix and a Silverstone Driving Experience, well, a change of scene for the weekend couldn’t hurt, could it? Even if Formula 1 is kind of boring.
Robert Andilet is a veteran F1 driver on his returning season after a six-year absence. He has a lot to learn, not least of which is how to deal with the media attention, a “rivalry” between him and his rookie teammate, as well as his attraction to a man who readily admits he thinks F1 is tedious. It was a rookie mistake to let Mitch walk away after their first meeting, will Robert make the same mistake again?
This M/M romance from Beth Laycock features a famous/ordinary man, older MCs, and is set in the high-octane world of Formula 1 featuring fast cars, spectacular crashes, heated rivalries, and of course, an HEA
1
Silverstone, England – Round 10
Andilet (Robert)
The TV coverage for the race weekend flashed up the stats for the season so far on one of the several monitors in the room off the garage and I flicked the channel over to anything else instead. It was already round ten of the championship, only thirteen more races to go, and I didn’t need the reminder I was nowhere in the standings. Not a single point on the scoreboard. It had been a great return to F1 so far. Ah, sarcasm my old friend, always there for the bad times.
When I’d been contacted by the team principal of the rookie team, Maverick Racing, to ask if I’d be interested in a return to Formula 1, I’d jumped at the chance. I hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place.
That last season had been my career best, placing eighth overall, but Team McCarthy had let me go anyway to have my place taken over by a young whippersnapper coming up from one of the feeder teams.
And here I was proving they’d been right to replace me. I dragged a hand through the long strands of hair on top of my head, trying to stop the negative thoughts in their tracks. It wasn’t as though the package we had was competitive yet, and the team knew that, but the car was getting better with each race. Well, if improving from the back of the grid up a mere two places to eighteenth could be classed as an improvement.
I wanted to be in the thick of it. Rubbing tires, metaphorically of course, with past championship winners, not scrabbling around at the back hoping not to be the last driver over the finish line.
Blowing out a deep breath, I stood and rolled my shoulders to ease the tension as I tried to remind myself the season was a marathon not a sprint. The added pressure that Silverstone was my second home Grand Prix wasn’t helping either. The British fans had embraced me as one of their own now I was part of an English-based team despite the fact I was French. And I wanted to give them an entertaining race, I wanted to give them some wheel-to-wheel action. I told myself that could still happen, except I wanted it to be a scrap for a podium place, not over seventeenth.
I grabbed a bottled water from the fridge in the small kitchen area in an attempt to distract my errant thoughts.
“Andilet.”
I nodded in greeting to one of the team engineers—not mine, but for my teammate, Daniel Scott—as he wandered towards the front. Thankfully the back of the garage was still quiet. It would be a different matter for free practice the following day, and qualifying on Saturday would be crazy with press and fans hanging around the pit lane and team viewing areas in the garages. A few VIPs would even get access to the team hospitality suite, so I needed to try to make the most of the peace and quiet and focus on winning and not my poor form so far.
Libby, my assistant and savior, as she was handling my social media accounts as part of the comms team so I didn’t have to, strode with an air of purpose in my direction, which probably wasn’t going to bode well for me if past experience was anything to go by. She was tall, at least six feet with her heels on, but then everyone seemed tall compared to my five feet nine.
She also had a slender build like me but at least I had a little muscle mass on her, and while she gave off the nerd vibe, I had more of a “silver fox” vibe going on, just without the silver. So far.
At thirty-eight I wasn’t old, but in F1 terms I was ancient. The only other driver my age was Alexander Benson over at Team McCarthy and we were the “veterans” of the field. A polite way of saying we wouldn’t be getting our contracts renewed for many more years. Although what we lacked in agility we more than made up for with our years of experience, both of us on our second go-around on the F1 circuit.
“Robert, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I held out my palms because she couldn’t have been looking that hard for me. If I wasn’t in the paddock, it was a safe bet I’d be hanging out in here, or my motorhome, out of the way of everyone else. “And here I am. You found me.”
Libby’s lips twisted into a grin and my stomach dropped. What god-awful PR stunt has she been part of arranging this time?
The team owner was an American actor, and it was all supposed to be hush-hush, but with our name, it was easy to put two and two together and get the right answer. It had to be the worst kept secret in F1 and at this point I was beginning to suspect it was a ploy to get more media attention for the rookie team. And he seemed determined to have the team live up to its Maverick name.
At the first race of the season in Bahrain, Daniel and I had been asked to drive across the bridge that connected Bahrain Island to one of the surrounding larger islands. It would have been great if it had just been the driving, but fans had been everywhere but security had not, and more than one person had been injured.
To say I was not a fan of the publicity side of F1 was an understatement, and since that incident, I had let my teammate take the lead on it so I could concentrate on what I was here to do this year—win races. And put Maverick Racing on the scoreboard.
The owner had bought out the ailing Team Allure the previous year, rebranded, changed the team colors to navy and neon pink, with a new team logo of a pink star nestled between two navy stripes, and after all that, he expected results from me. I was the talent and Daniel was the cash. No pressure.
“I just wanted to check you’d got my email about the appearance at the Silverstone Racing Club?”
The what now? I slid my phone out of my shorts’ pocket and scrolled through my emails. Oops. I’d meant to read that one but I’d got lost in the data I’d been analyzing from the last practic
Great, they wanted me to talk to the fans the day of qualifying. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do that morning. I knew this was part and parcel of being an F1 driver and I loved meeting the fans, signing merch for them, but give me a room full of people expecting a speech from me and I’d rather clean the wheel nuts on my car with a toothbrush. “Yeah, that’s fine. Am I supposed to talk about something in particular?”
Libby tapped one long finger against her forearm and I wondered what I’d missed. “I’ve attached talking points at the bottom of the email.”
I scrolled to the end of the message having switched off after reading the word appearance. “Oh yeah, sorry.”
She smiled at my response but it seemed a little forced. Or was that unease wrinkling her forehead? As if my weekend wasn’t off to a bad enough start with the pressure of needing to score points, now I had to give a talk. And by the look on Libby’s face, I had a feeling there was more, and whatever was about to come would be even worse.
I mean, would the fans at the racing club even know who I was? I was sure they’d rather have a British driver. Or even one who hadn’t been away from the F1 circuit for six years, secluded away back home in the South of France licking his wounds.
“You know how you’re always saying that any time out on track is helpful?”
I nodded and mentally cursed myself. Rookie mistake, Robert.
“Well, when the opportunity arose I thought of you straight away.”
Oh good. With a smile I wasn’t feeling I rolled my hand to get her to carry on. “O-kay.”
“Silverstone is always looking to promote the circuit and bring in more income and we need to get the Maverick Racing name out there and bring in more sponsors.”
“Uh-huh.” I did not like where this was heading.
“Well, we got together and thought we could kill two birds with one stone. We thought it would be a great promotion for you to take a fan out on the circuit. Not in an F1 car because that’s not possible, but Silverstone said you could take them out in a Lotus they have for their driving experiences. And when Wheel to Wheel got wind of it, they wanted to cover it. Have a segment in their Driven program for their Silverstone coverage.”
Libby grinned and my stomach writhed like a nest of vipers had been disturbed.
Kill two birds with one stone? More like kill me.
Kill me now.
I should have known better when it came to Libby and her version of the “truth.” “Take a fan out on the track” translated into not only one fan. There were three of them lined up outside the Silverstone Driving Experience building. Two men, in their early twenties, both dressed in jeans and team T-shirts, neither of which were Maverick Racing ones, and a woman who looked like she was auditioning for the next series of Love Island, rather than ready to drive a car. Any publicity is good publicity, right?
Her two minutes of fame behind the wheel and she was going to milk every second of it. Bleached-blonde hair, breasts only just contained in a red vest top, and a pair of cut-off denim shorts that didn’t even cover her ass cheeks. Five minutes of fame or bag an F1 driver? Either would do her probably. Cynical much? And totally stereotyping. She could be lovely and not even know we were filming this for Driven. I hoped I was right, but once bitten twice shy as the saying went. I’d had my share of women coming on to me for no other reason than wanting to be with an F1 driver and the “glamorous lifestyle” that came with it.
Libby dragged me over to a guy with a microphone and I blew out a deep breath. Just get it over and done with, then you can go back to the safety of going over the telemetry before the race.
“Robert, this is Lucas from Wheel to Wheel. They’re going to be filming you for their Driven series.”
He reminded me of a hipster with his brown beard and swirly mustache. Small, gold wire-rimmed glasses framed dark eyes and to top off the style he had a pair of blue suspenders holding up his navy trousers and hooked over the shoulders of his mustard button-down shirt, with the obligatory cuffs-rolled-up style to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. I offered him my hand, and as we shook, I said, “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. We wanted to have a bit of a chat with you first, then we’ll do a quick session with each fan before you take them round the track. We want to do like a before-and-after thing. So we’ll film the fan behind the wheel and then you swap places and show ‘em how to drive the car properly.”
I smiled and hoped to the car gods that they all knew how to drive. I did not want to be the one breaking the news to Silverstone that one of them had totaled their car. And she was a beauty. A Series Two, Lotus Elise. Slung low to the ground with a hundred and eighteen brake horsepower under her hood.
“So, just a few questions for you.” The cameraman zoomed in and Lucas stared down the lens. “I’m here at the Silverstone track with Robert Andilet, the lead driver for the rookie team on the grid this year—Maverick Racing.” He turned to me and I focused on him rather than the camera.
“So, Robert, what’s it like being back in F1 after such a long break?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the question. Six years wasn’t that long. Then again, a week in F1 could be a lifetime and make all the difference.
I tried to recall some of the standard answers Libby had given me to use whenever I was interviewed. “It’s great. Almost feels like I was never away, just switched teams to Maverick. Of course, I’m looking forward to winning some races for the team.”
Lucas laughed. “But you’ve yet to get a top ten finish or any points on the board. Do you think you can turn that around this weekend?”
Arsehole.
He shoved the microphone in my face again.
“I hope to, yes. A points-paying finish is always the aim.” The cameraman swung around so he could zoom in on my face, and I tried to ignore him.
“And yet you’ve generously given up your time today to take some lucky fans out on the track.”
“Indeed. F1 would be nothing without its fans, so it’s the least I can do.”
Lucas turned away and sliced a hand across his neck. “Great. Let’s get the first fan and then they can go out on the track.”
The cameraman nodded and moved off, and I took the opportunity to throw a glare in Libby’s direction. “Why isn’t Daniel doing this?” I hissed under my breath at her.
Her answer was a shrug. “Because you’re the better driver?” She gave me a saccharine smile and batted her eyelashes at me but it still sounded more like a question. I shook my head at her, smelling the bullshit a mile off.
The first fan wandered over in my direction, his hand outstretched. I slid my palm into his as he said, “I’m Tom, and I’m such a huge fan. I can’t believe Team McCarthy let you go back then after such a good season. Their loss, eh?”
“Thanks, Tom. So, are you ready to take this one for a spin?” I asked as I hooked a thumb over my shoulder at the Lotus.
“Oh God, yes. I’m so excited. I can’t believe I get to drive a Lotus Elise. And with Robert Andilet in the passenger seat.”
I chuckled. Fans like this I could handle, I thought as I tossed the keys over to him. “Let’s drive.”
To say Tom had never driven a sports car before, he handled her well. And when he pulled back over beside the camera crew, he beamed at me. “That was so awesome!”
