 by Jillian Quinn.jpg)
Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
So it must be my lucky day when Duke gets suspended from the NHL for fighting.
I’m an anger management specialist, and the team owner gives me two months to whip Duke’s grumpy butt into shape, or he’s trading him to another team.
I can’t let that happen.
Not when I can help Duke work through his anger issues.
Except there’s one problem….
As we grow closer, the lines of our professional relationship blur.
Duke thinks I’m the cure for thawing the ice around his heart.
And he wants me.
The Player I Want to Date is a standalone forbidden romance about a hockey player who will do anything to convince his tempting new therapist that he’s the only man she’ll ever need.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
DELILAH
Duke Baldwin makes me so fucking hot. He’s on the cover of Sports Illustrated this month, dressed in his Washington Capitals jersey, wearing his usual cocky smirk. He grips his hockey stick in his left hand, and his muscles flex beneath the tight fabric. I practically drool on the front cover, which would suck if I did—because I was looking forward to spending some alone time with Duke.
As I flip through the five-page spread about the sexy captain, I fan myself with my free hand. Duke makes hockey worth watching. Every time he throws a player against the boards, I imagine he’s doing it to me.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, I test the water temperature. The house is quiet at this hour. My daughter is sound asleep in her bed. And after the day I had, I need some much-needed Mommy Time.
I set the magazine on the floor and begin to undress. Duke’s piercing blue eyes look up at me as I strip away my clothes. His wicked smirk sends a shiver down my spine. As I peel back the layers, I imagine Duke’s hands on my skin. I envision how it would feel to kiss his full, perfect lips.
I slide into the warm, bubbly water and reach over the edge for the magazine. With my other hand, I drag my fingers along my arm. Heat travels beneath my fingers as I continue my slow exploration. On the second page of the article, Duke is shirtless, wearing shorts that sit low on his hips, exposing the V line of his abdomen.
My eyes follow the light trail of hair that runs down his thick chest and dips beneath his shorts. I lick my lips, thinking of Duke as I grab the shower wand and turn on the jets. I slide my hand into the water. His handsome face is on every page, those bright blue eyes haunting me. I suck in a deep breath from the pleasure that rushes over me. My heart speeds up, and a pulse-pounding surge of energy causes my body to tingle.
The door opens a crack, but I ignore it. Strange things happen in this old house all the time. I lean my head back, imagining what it feels like to grip Duke’s big shoulders, how it would feel to ride him like one of his puck bunnies. My toes curl from the wave of adrenaline that shoots through my body. I’m so close to finding my release that I can almost see the finish line.
“Mommy, what are you doing?” I glance over at Max, who rubs the sleep from her eyes with her tiny hands, and my jaw hits the floor.
Panicked, I attempt to stand and drop the shower wand, but I hit the edge of the tub instead. Shit! Water shoots across the room, showering both of us. It looks like Old Faithful just erupted in my bathroom, blasting the walls with a steady stream.
Max screams when the warm water hits her in the face. The wand is uncontrollable, rolling back and forth as I reach for it. A wave hits the opposite wall and bounces off, splashing Max as she turns her back to me.
“Mommy, make it stop!”
I finally get a good grip on the wand and submerge it as I turn the knobs. Why didn’t I think to turn off the water first? And I’m supposed to be a doctor? This is not my finest moment.
I jump out of the tub and wrap Max in my towel, dripping onto the floor. So much for my relaxing night to myself. I had it all planned out—the bath, my favorite bottle of red wine, and an hour of Netflix before bed. Now, I’m going to spend the rest of my night cleaning the bathroom. This is my life in a nutshell. Don’t grow up, it’s a trap.
After I get Max’s wet pajamas off her, I dry her hair and body and then wrap her in the towel. She shivers and leans into me for warmth.
“Mommy, why were you playing with the shower wand?”
“I was just checking to make sure it still works.”
It definitely does the trick!
She gives me a confused look. Max is as smart as a whip and always knows when I’m lying. Her fascination with Google and YouTube makes it a lot harder for me to conceal the truth from her. At least this is one situation she can’t Google.
“C’mon, baby,” I say, pressing my hand to her shoulder. “Let’s go to your room, so you can pick out your PJs.”
I glance at Duke’s face on the bathroom floor. The pages are soaked through, the ink blurred from the water. I take one final look at Duke, and then I lead Max down the hall toward her bedroom.