 by Sheridan Anne.jpg)
Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
What’s that saying? When life hands you lemons . . .
What if I don’t want to make lemonade? What if I want to pummel them into non-existence? Anything is better than admitting how desperately I want a taste of that sweet lemonade.
That’s exactly how I felt when my college assignment threw me in the direction of Miller Cain.
My body screams for him while my brain warns me to run for the hills.
He's the captain of the ice hockey team with a cocky reputation. He's a sweet talker and the bad boy promising me the ride of my life.
Miller Cain is bad for my health.
I just need to last one year without falling into his bed.
Should be easy, right?
MILLER
She came crashing into my world like a tornado.
Sexy as hell, an absolute firecracker with deadly green eyes.
I want her. In fact, I need her, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make her mine.
Not Your Pucking Girl is a New Adult, College Sports Romance with a HEA.
CONTENT WARNING: Detailed sexual content, sexual assault, heavy coarse language, fire, and death.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
Danielle
I stand at the crowded bar, scowling as the bartender skips past me for the third time. Damn him. Am I really not that noticeable? I know my tits could be a little bigger and my hair is on the wild side, but at least I have an ass to kill for. Well, an ass that this douchebag can’t actually see past the high bar he works behind. But if he could, I would’ve had my drinks fifteen minutes ago. Maybe I should get up on the bar and give it a shake. I’m sure that would get me service.
“Finally,” I murmur when his eyes land on me. I give him my show-stopping smile. “Two vodka sunrises, please,” I tell him, hoping he hears me over the impressive crowd. He nods and sets on his way to get my drinks. Once he’s returned, I hand over a twenty and drop the change into the tip jar. Not that he really deserves it tonight, but my momma raised me right.
I push my way through the throng of students who I assume are here to watch the championship ice hockey game for the famous Denver Dragons. The crowd roars around me, pushing me left and right, causing me to spill both drinks down my arms as I try to save myself from landing on my ass and making a fool of myself.
Just my luck.
I make it back to the table and place what’s left of our drinks down. “What took so long?” Sophie questions, leaning over the table to pick up her drink, “Ugh . . . gross. It’s sticky.”
“Shut it. You’re lucky you even got a drink. Have you seen how crowded this place is?” I ask, reaching under the table for my oversized purse and rummaging through until I find my trusty packet of wet wipes. One can never be too prepared.
Pulling out two wipes, I hand one to Sophie and get to work cleaning up the spilled juice dripping down the side of my arms and glass. I glance up from my task to find Sophie raising her drink to me. “Here’s to you, Dani girl—for finally dumping that sorry-ass boyfriend and agreeing to move in with me and Jared.”
I beam at her excitement and pick up my glass before clinking it against hers. We drink what’s left and get back to gossiping about her brother, Zac, and his latest conquest. Although nothing surprises me at this point. He’s possibly the biggest man-whore on earth. If I have to hear any hole’s a goal one more time from that big asshole, he and I are going to have problems.
The crowd of eager Dragons fans surrounding us begin to shout in outrage, and I take a moment to glance at the screen to see what all the fuss is about. Ahh . . . a fight has broken out, not only during the championship game but during the last few minutes.
Those morons. Why am I not surprised?
I squint at the small screen. Yep, just as I thought, the Dragons are behind by two points and are going to throw their hard work away just to prove to the world that their balls are so big they can barely fit into their itty-bitty jockstraps. What a bunch of dickheads. No wonder they haven’t been able to win the championship for the past three years.
The buzzer sounds, ending the game with the Dragons still pounding on the other team, though I’m pretty sure the commentator just said something about the teammates beginning to fight one another. The camera zones in on the guy who must be the coach, and man does he look pissed. I would hate to be in that locker room . . . Actually, on second thought, being a fly on the wall might just be the most entertaining thing I’ve ever seen.
Sophie pulls me out of my thoughts when she grabs my hand and drags me out of my chair. “Come on,” she says, already halfway across the bar, glancing back at me over her shoulder. “We need to find you a hot piece of man-meat to dance with.”
I smile at my best friend. Where would I be without her?
After spending the next hour out on the dance floor, I call out to Sophie that I’m heading back to the bar for another drink. I start walking, squeezing through the raging crowd, and get halfway there when my elbow is yanked back, and I’m forced into a hard body. A gasp sails through my lips before the sound of his voice sends fear rocketing through my veins. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing shaking your ass like a cheap fucking whore? No girl of mine is going to make a fool of me.”
Fuck, fuck. FUCK! How did he find me?