Formula Love

By TS Arthur

Being a woman in a man's world is tough, but it's the only way Lizzie can achieve her dreams.

 

When Lizzie Evans is offered a job as part of the pit crew for Robinson Racing, she can't accept their offer fast enough. Determined to prove her doubters wrong, she throws herself into her new role. 

 

After a rocky start, Lizzie's job is complicated further when she meets Todd Hunt, member of rival team, Twitchen Motoring. Todd's reputation for trying to trade classified information is common knowledge, and after being warned off him by her boss, Lizzie knows she has to tread carefully. But Todd's attention reveals a softer side and leaves her questioning what she wants more - a relationship or her career?

 

Secrets and lies take their toll, and the drivers aren't the only ones playing with high stakes as the season races to an end. 

 

Formula Love is a short, standalone novella. If you like enemies to lovers, secret relationships, and second chances, you'll adore TS Arthur's super sports romance. 

 

Buy Formula Love today for a romance that will have you racing to turn pages and reach the final chequered flag. 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: TS Arthur
• Release date: Nov 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223677666

Book preview

Chapter One

Lizzie wiped vomit from her mouth, cursing the oppressive heat at the Bahrain circuit. She closed the lid of the toilet as she flushed, wishing she could send her nerves away as easily as the foul-smelling remains of her meagre breakfast. With a sigh, she lifted herself to her feet and sat on the white plastic seat. If only she could fast forward through the next three hours. She chastised herself instantly.

I don’t need them to speed up, I just need to survive them, she told herself.

Truth be told, today was the culmination of everything Lizzie had worked towards for the last ten years. All those hours spent tinkering in the shed, deliberately breaking things so she could fix them again—after she’d figured out how they worked first. All the time spent helping out in her dad’s garage, acing her engineering degree alongside practical work in the family business. She’d fought against the prejudice, the jokes… It had all been building up to today, and what was she doing? Proving everyone right; a woman wasn’t cut out for this kind of job.

Oi, Lizzie! Get your arse out here! Team briefing in five. A gruff voice shouted through the door, probably too scared he’d catch something by coming into the ladies’ bathroom.

Lizzie cringed at the harsh tone as she exited the stall. Her welcome into the team had been rocky and it didn’t help that she got ‘special treatment’. The fact she had her own hotel room and the guys all had to bunk together in twin rooms hadn’t gone down well. She splashed cool water on her face, took a deep, steadying breath, and hustled to the garage so as not to be late for the usual briefing.

The noise of the garage on race day was something Lizzie thought she would never get used to. Engines roared as the showcase races took place, crowds shouting, and news crews from all over the world clamoured for the attention of the drivers or lead mechanics on the team. No wonder so many of them hid behind their headphones. She joined the huddle at the back of the garage and listened as the rules for the day were confirmed and race strategies discussed. The rules of the sport she had followed since childhood were intricate, and the new changes for this season weren’t making it any easier.

And to finish, we’d like to wish the newest members of the crew the very best of luck on their first official outing today. They aced the training, and we’re delighted to have you on board. Lizzie felt all eyes swivel to her for a split second, causing her heart to stop its erratic beat until they returned their gazes to their team principal. With that said, let’s get out there, do what we do best, and put those winter hours at the factory to good use.

The crowd dispersed and Lizzie found herself staring at the countdown clock, the seconds ticking away until the race started. What the bloody hell am I doing here? she muttered under her breath, her stomach rolling with unease and her helmet heavy in her hands.

She stared at the team logo, shining and colourful against the black of her safety gear. The multifaceted design, which incorporated wings, wheels, and trophies, was intended to represent not only the racing element of their business but also their ambitions as one of the newer competitors. It beggared belief that approaching their fifteenth anniversary in F1 was still considered ‘new’. Robinson Racing had certainly made a splash since their debut.

Helping us win the championship, I hope. A voice came from behind her, making her almost drop the expensive piece of equipment in shock. That would’ve been a great start to her new career. The helmets were expensive kit, and kicking it around the garage wouldn’t go down well with the higher-ups.

She turned to look at the man the voice belonged to. The man who gave her this chance in the first place - Jack Woods. He’d put Lizzie forward for the junior positions when she was fresh out of university and had pushed her forward at every opportunity. At almost fifty, he was like a second father to her, and he did his best to shield her from the animosity of some of the other mechanics. Not everyone was pleased about having a female on the pit crew. It wasn’t unheard of to have female members of staff on the team, but actually out there on race day handling the cars… that was a new one.

What if I’m not cut out for this, Jack? You know what most of them think. They can’t all be wrong. Lizzie voiced her doubts aloud for the first time.

"Doesn’t matter what they think, does it? I believe in you, Lizzie Evans. The drivers do. The team principals do. If they didn’t, you’d still be supporting the F2 or F3 races. You wouldn’t be here, at the pinnacle of motorsport, if you didn’t have what it takes. Now, get out there and get those final checks finished." Lizzie caught the rare smile he gave her as he walked away and took strength from his words. He was right. She wouldn’t have been there if they didn’t think she could do the job. She just needed to prove she could; to herself and every one of her doubters.

The garage was a hub of activity. With both drivers having placed in the top five in qualifying yesterday, this was going to be an important opening race for the team. They’d be eager to capitalise and take as many points as they could from their rivals, especially given this track didn’t suit their engines. Lizzie worked through the checklist in her head; tyres lined up on the right racks, blankets on to keep them warm, wheel nuts in all the right positions.

Everything was in place inside the garage, so she ventured over to the pit lane and clapped Karl Blunt, the driver she was assigned to, on the back for good luck as he clambered into his car. He was new to the team, having joined after winning the F2 championship last year, and they were both eager to prove themselves. With the roar of an engine, he headed off to the grid, and she followed on foot, carrying the tyre blanket for his back left wheel. Each wheel had its own team, and she had been delegated the simple task of making sure the blanket was ready when he reached the grid. These blankets were vital to help keep the rubber warm ahead of the race start. Cold tyres could destroy the chances of a good getaway when the lights went out. She was capable of more, but she was happy to take the small steps to being trusted with bigger tasks.

The grid was packed, and she grew frustrated by the funny looks she caught being projected her way as she weaved between the cars. Lizzie didn’t know if it was because the other mechanics felt threatened by her or if they were just chauvinistic pigs, but it unsettled her that the attitudes pervaded in other teams as well. Either way, she did not need that kind of shit today. Trying to brush it off and focus on what Jack had said, she repeated his words of encouragement in her head. Her hands shook slightly as she wrapped her wheel in the blanket before heading back to the garage. A more senior mechanic would stay on track and remove it in time for the formation lap. Her job was done now until the first pit stop, where she would be responsible for securing the wheel nuts. Sensing a chance for a moment of silence, she took advantage of the lull and went to double check her wheel gun one last time.

Box, box. The tinny voice bounced on the team radio through her ears, and the adrenaline pumped hard through her petite frame. Checking her gloves and helmet, Lizzie jogged to her spot on the pit lane. A fast final stop was pivotal to their success today, and she was feeling the pressure. They were attempting an undercut, and everything needed to go perfectly. Before she knew it, the rear left wheel was in front of her, and her hands froze for a split second before she jammed the wheel gun onto the nut. Lizzie hit the trigger, but it wasn’t budging. Something had gone wrong, but she couldn’t worry about that now. Grabbing the spare gun, she finally got the nut free… at the cost of vital seconds. Lizzie hung her head and stayed kneeling at the edge of the pit box for what felt like an eternity before heading back into the garage. She could almost hear the commentators lamenting the time the error had cost.

Even with the limited vision in her helmet—which she refused to remove so they couldn’t see her tears—she saw the disappointment in her team. Lizzie walked past the angry stares and ignored the snide comments. She didn’t need them to tell her. She knew the delay had cost them the manoeuvre and possibly even the chance of a podium. Incredibly, the only thing she cared about was Jack. She felt as though she had let him down, let her driver down, and let herself down. Maybe they were right. Maybe women weren’t supposed to be on a pit crew after all.

The rest of the race passed without incident, but she remained silent and avoided everyone she could in the post-race debrief. Lizzie escaped the racetrack as soon as she could, hoping to find a local place to drown her sorrows before they flew back to the factory. The chance would be a fine thing. They were few and far between in Bahrain with their strict rules on alcohol consumption. She had a few weeks before the next race in Italy, and she needed space from the team to figure out her next move. Despite the incident being confirmed as a mechanical error, her shoulders still sagged under the guilt she carried. Most of the crew were talking to her now, but there was still plenty of muttering that she didn’t belong. Even though Jack had done his best to reassure her, she was more inclined to agree with her doubters than her mentor at that moment.

Hands in pockets and head bowed low, she ducked into the next little bar she saw. The floor was sticky, but only marginally less so than the corner table she occupied alone. The lights were flickering, helping to hide her presence from anyone who might recognise her. Not that it was likely, but the shadows suited her dark mood. Lizzie nursed her drink, wishing for the burning sensation that was missing as the liquid slipped down her throat. Unwilling to return to the hotel for alcohol, Lizzie had to settle for a mocktail. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when a disturbance at the bar drew her attention away from her mental draft of a resignation letter.

A large group of rowdy men had entered and were giving the barman a hard time. Each of them was shouting a complex mocktail order and the poor man was getting more and more prone to dropping a glass with each passing minute. She tutted, annoyed by their attitudes. The door swung open again, and Lizzie glanced up, instantly wishing she hadn’t. In walked a tall man, easily pushing six feet and in good shape… or at least she assumed he was, judging by the way the claret and gold shirt hugged his muscles. She’d recognise those colours anywhere.