 by Jillian Quinn.jpg)
Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
We couldn’t even stand each other before we said I do.
But our fake marriage is a golden opportunity for him.
His bad-boy ways are messing up his career. And after his publicist sees our drunken wedding pics, she thinks a marriage—real or fake—will keep his general manager from trading him to another team.
So Will makes me the deal of a lifetime.
Spend three months under the same roof, pretending we are in love, and he will give me the one thing I want most.
But what happens when our deal is over…
And I’m no longer faking it?
The Player I Hate to Love is a standalone enemies-to-lovers romance about a hockey player who will do anything to stay married to his sister’s best friend, even though she hates him.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
CLARKE
I remembered little about what happened the night before, but one thing was certain—hangovers sucked.
Clearing the sleep from my eyes, I glanced out the curtains to my right, blinking away the sunlight. My head pounded as the Las Vegas skyline came into focus. Last night was a blur, a collection of drunken moments. A list of endless bad decisions I regretted the second I heard someone snoring beside me.
I rolled onto my side, staring in horror at Will “Romeo” Roman, naked and in all of his glory. My best friend’s brother was the cockiest asshole to play in the NHL. I’d hated him for years, vowed to never fall into bed with him again.
And I made a horrible mistake.
Drinking rule number one—don’t let your jerk of an ex-hookup feed you melon ball shots like they’re liquid desserts. But they sure as hell tasted good on the way down.
I glanced around the room for my clothes. From the looks of the place, we tore the hotel room apart. Overturned lamps were on the floor along with sheets and the comforter thrown halfway across the room. The mirror facing the bed had red lipstick smeared across the glass.
What the hell did I do last night?
My body looked as if a truck had hit me. Stretching out my legs, I gasped at the light brushes on my knees, thighs, and arms. Will was never gentle with me, but this was next-level insane. No way he did this to me. I propped my elbow up on a stack of pillows and looked at Will, unable to take my eyes off his body that was like carved stone, ripped with muscle in every place imaginable.
I thought I had learned my lesson a long time ago. Don’t sleep with infuriatingly sexy hockey players, especially ones related to my best friend. Will was the starting right winger on the Philadelphia Flyers, and the player I loved to hate. We had a past, one I never shared with his sister. We both kept our distance and pretended nothing ever happened, though Mia was not an idiot. She knew something went down between Will and me, but she did not know how far back our drama went.
Will slept with his hand over his face, snoring like a baby. I noted the hard edges of his body, the sharpness in his jaw. He was beautiful when he wasn’t talking. But when he opened his damn mouth, all bets were off. His short blond hair was messy from sleep, though he still looked hot as sin. Unlike me, who looked as if I’d spent my evening in a boxing ring.
How could I do this?
More like, why did I do this?
There was a time when I waited around for even a second with Will. Back then, I was stupid and did not know how men worked. I thought he was different, and that we both wanted the same thing. But I was so, so wrong.
I’m never drinking again, not if I can help it.
I could only recall a few things, the night a blurry, distant memory. There was dinner with my bestie Mia and her soon-to-be husband, Ethan. We were in Vegas celebrating their upcoming wedding. Will and a few of their teammates from the Flyers joined us for dinner last night, followed by a lot of bar hopping. We ended up at Coyote Ugly, and that was around the time the night became a blur.
I remembered dancing on the bar with Will throwing money at me. The thought alone made me want to crawl under the bed and hide. All of his teammates were there.
Oh, God. How could I have been so stupid?
Then there was a strip club, maybe a lap dance or two. A lot of drunken kisses with Will. And judging by our lack of clothing, we did a lot more than kiss.
Ethan and Mia got married by Elvis.
No, that can’t be right.
I slid my legs off the bed, full-blow panic settling into my bones as I tried to recall how we ended up at a chapel.
Who got married?
And why was I in a chapel last night with Will?
Our rooms at the Bellagio were similar, though I could tell by the stack of random shit piled on the sofa table this was Will’s room. We had adjoining rooms, which was why we ended up talking to each other before dinner last night.
The stupid mistake on the hotel’s part led to… whatever happened between us. I needed to leave, make my escape before the sleeping prince awoke. Heart hammering out of my chest, I started looking for my clothes. And as I bent down to grab my dress from the floor, I noticed the gold ring on my left finger.
A simple band… a wedding band.
What the hell?