“We should get married,” I tell her and I mean it.
“I don’t want you to propose just because I’m pregnant. I want you to do it because you cannot live another day without me and have to make me your wife.”
“You are it for me, babe. And unfortunately for you, you are now stuck with me. I don’t want to spend another second without you.”
She giggles. “I want to be stuck with you, too.”
“I love you, Kennedy.” I kiss her softly on the lips, giving her a quick peck. “I’m serious. I want to marry you.”
“I love you, too. But ask me in a few months when I’m all fat and grouchy and sending you out to the store at midnight for pints of ice cream.”
“Are you turning me down?” I am shocked but also not surprised because this is typical for Kennedy.
“No. All I’m saying is that I would like for you to wait until the time is right.”
“Now is a bad time?”
“Yup. Let’s wait and see what the doctor says before we go planning a wedding. I called Dr. Stone on my way home. We have an appointment tomorrow to have blood work done to confirm the pregnancy.”
“So, it’s not a definite.” I am so confused.
“I took three pregnancy tests, and all of them were positive. I doubt they were all wrong.”
“We’re going to have a whole team of kids.”
“I don’t know about all that,” she deadpans, giving me a goofy look. “You try pushing a few kids out and then we’ll talk about a team.”
I rub my nose against hers, and then kiss her lips and cheek, making my way down her neck. “Too bad we can’t make another baby right now.”
“Tyler,” she moans in my ear as I peel back the strap of her dress and plant kisses on her skin. “We can’t make another baby, but you can sure as hell make love to me.”
I stop for a second to slip my shirt over my head and throw it on the floor behind me. “That I can do.”
I’m about to push up her dress when Roxie, the Queen of the Cock Blockers, jumps up and licks my face. “Roxie,” I growl and point my hand to her doggy bed on the opposite side of the room, “go lay down. Now!”
She licks me again, this time managing to whack me in the arm with her tail in the process. “Roxie is always getting in the way of me and your pussy.”
Kennedy laughs. “If you think this is bad, imagine what it will be like when we have a baby running around, always demanding our attention.”
“Well, then I guess I better get my time in while I can.” I slide off the bed and walk toward the door, beckoning Roxie to follow me. “Sorry, girl, but you have to go find something else to do while I’m doing Mommy.”
Roxie barks at me when I move her outside the room and close the door behind. No one is interfering with what I have planned for Kennedy tonight. I want to kick off our celebration the right way—with my face shoved between her thighs.
“Did you just call me Mommy?” She smiles so wide her gums are showing.
“You bet your ass I did.”
She sits back on her elbows and stares at me. “It still sounds weird to me. I can’t believe I am going to be a mother.”
“Well, you better get used to it.” I stalk toward her, standing at the edge of the bed as I appraise her body. “Now, spread those legs for me, baby. I have nine months until this baby comes, and I plan to make the most of them.”
I push her legs open, and she moans, “Oh, Tyler. Don’t tease me just fuck me.” Her skin dots with little goose bumps as I pepper her thighs with kisses.
I lick my lips. “Bad, Mommy.”
She laughs, gripping my hair between her fingers to pull me closer.
What had started as sex between two strangers has forever changed my life, making me whole again after years of pain. There is no place I would rather be right now than with Kennedy, the woman who changed my life and gave me everything I was missing. Kennedy and the child inside her belly are my life now.
BONUS EPILOGUE
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DONAVAN
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Available May 24, 2017
DONOVAN SYNOPSIS
As the starting goaltender for the Philadelphia Flyers, Carter Donovan has the toughest position on the team. He’s hot as puck, a caveman in bed, and a beast on the ice. But after another season of missing the playoffs, Carter is taking the off-season harder than normal.
Just when Carter needs a change of luck, his teammate sets him up with Sydney Carroway, a famous romance author who likes to play games of her own. And after a blind date gone wrong, the dark-haired beauty has him wrapped around her finger. Sydney tortures Carter with her dirty words and pictures, thrives off the steamy conversations that give him a never-ending case of blue balls. Carter knows it. But he can’t get enough.
It might be Carter’s job to protect the net when he’s on the ice, but when it comes to Sydney, he needs more than a killer glove save to defend his heart.
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Keep reading for an excerpt of DONOVAN.
DONOVAN EXCERPT
SYDNEY
Carter Donovan has no idea I am messing with him. I bet he thinks I’m an evil witch, toying with his dick along with his emotions. Maybe I am, or at least to some extent, but damn him for shaving his beard. When I walked into Tyler Kane’s house, he was dressed in gym clothes and had only a tiny bit of facial hair. I was disappointed, to say the least.
I had asked my best friend, Kennedy Lockwood, to set me up on a blind date with Carter. But I was expecting the lumberjack goalie and for him to be sporting some serious facial hair. Instead, I got the baby face version, or at least close to it. With broad shoulders, chiseled features, and arms ripped with muscles and tats, Carter would be hot no matter what he has on his face.
Still, I was hoping to kick things off with his face shoved between my legs and that stubble rubbing against my skin. Over the past two days, Carter has called non-stop. He even sent flowers and gifts to my apartment. To be honest, I was shocked to receive such lavish presents from him. The Chanel sunglasses were a bit overboard, but at least I know he has good taste. And that’s an important quality in a man who I am considering dating.
Flipping through a magazine on my couch, I wait for Carter to knock on the door. He’s twenty minutes early, same as last time. Part of me wants to take him into my bedroom and have my way with him. The other part of me, the side that likes experimenting on the opposite sex for research purposes, tells me I should make him wait a little while longer. After all, this could make for good writing material for my next book.
As the author of all things smutty and over-the-top, I draw a lot of my inspiration from experiences. Carter just doesn’t know that yet. Poor guy.
I fix my dark curls in the mirror on the wall next to the door and double check my makeup before opening it. Drool just about runs down my chin as I take in the sight of Carter. He’s one sexy hunk of man candy. With those big, strong arms that are more suited for boxing than hockey, I want him to grip me up in them and do sinful things to me.
Carter smiles so wide it reaches up to his soulful brown eyes. “Hey, baby.”
“Don’t hey, baby, me,” I shoot back, feigning interest. But this is all part of the façade.
He leans in to kiss my cheek, his fingers grazing my bare shoulder as he touches me, fiddling with the strap of my tank top. “You look beautiful, as always, Sydney.”
My willpower almost crumbles with his lips sending shockwaves down my spine. His big hand is dangerously close to my breast as he slides it the rest of the way down my arm. If he were a character in one of my books, I would say the hell with self-control and throw myself at him
, allow myself to become consumed in his manly scent and intoxicating sex appeal.
“Thank you, Carter,” I tell him and tug on his forearm in an attempt to pull him into the apartment. He’s so big and strong I can hardly move him an inch.
After Carter shuts the door, he surprises me by shoving me up against the wall. I do my best to move away from him, but he makes it difficult with his size. Carter is used to defending the net when he’s on the ice. He sure as hell proves that right now as he blocks my entire view of my living room with his body.
Bending down to my height, he breathes against my neck and ignites a fire beneath my skin. Heat rushes from my cheeks to my toes as he presses his lips to my neck. I move my head to the side to give him better access, my inhibitions lowering along with my guard. The walls I have built up to protect myself come crumbling down in an instant.
My panties are damp. No, more like they are soaking wet. Each kiss he plants from my neck to my shoulder is more painful than I can bear. We can’t do this. Giving in to Carter before we even have our first date was not part of my plan.
Plus, his beard…There’s nothing rough scratching my skin as he continues to make his way to my breasts. And I want the full Carter Donovan experience. I will wait for the man with the hot as puck facial hair just so I can get a taste of what it feels like against my pussy.
In a tight, low-cut tank, my girls are out on display and Carter is about to dive head first into them. Before he can make a crash landing into my cleavage, I grip a chunk of his hair in my hand so his gaze meets mine. His eyes are intense, the passion behind them so fucking sexy I want to rip the fitted shirt from him.
“You like it rough, baby? Is that what you want?”
As much as I want to say, fuck me up against this wall like one of your puck bunnies, I don’t want him to treat me like one of them either. Carter has earned a reputation as a ladies man over the years, and I have too much of a reputation to protect to get sucked into a scandal. Though I can’t help but wonder if one involving Carter would help sell more books. Or at the very least, it may even give me new things to write.
“No, Carter. I would like you to stop touching me.”
I am the biggest liar on the planet. One minute of heavy petting with Carter, and I already have to make up an excuse so I can go into my bedroom to change my underwear. My juices are threatening to spill down my leg any second. In a short, tight skirt, I’d rather keep this bit of information to myself.
Slipping from his grasp, I slide my back against the wall to get away from him. We need to put some distance between us before I rip my shirt off like the Hulk and leap into his arms, begging him to fuck me.
“Did I do something wrong?” His tone is defensive.
I shake my head, doing my best to maintain some distance between us. “No, you didn’t do anything. It’s not you, it’s me.”
He narrows his eyes at me, confusion scrolling across his handsome face. “Did you really just use that line on me?”
I shrug, nonchalant. “Don’t get your boxers all twisted up in a bunch. Good things come to those who wait. I promise you that I will make it worth every second.”
Carter lets out an exaggerated sigh and sulks off toward the couch. “Whatever. You’re driving me fucking crazy, woman.”
Heading toward my bedroom to change my panties, I call out, “That may be true, but you can’t get enough of my crazy.”
He grunts in agreement, and I laugh to myself as I enter my bedroom, wondering how long it will take him to grow back his beard. Let the countdown begin.
If you liked Carter and Sydney’s story so far, this is only the beginning. Donovan is available now for pre-order only on Amazon.
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Available May 24, 2017
FACE-OFF SERIES
If you liked Kane, keep reading for a free excerpt of Parker, the first book in the Face-Off series.
Parker is available now!
Read PARKER for FREE with Kindle Unlimited.
Meet Alex Parker, the NHL’s most notorious bad boy both on and off the ice.
As the top defenseman in the league, Alex was on a winning team, so close to the Stanley Cup, before he hooked up with the wrong puck bunny—the team owner’s granddaughter. Oops! So, they sent him packing to Philadelphia to play for the Flyers, one of the worst teams in the league.
His agent wants him to clean up his act. He drinks too much. He sleeps around too much. That’s why his agent assigns Charlotte Coachman, aka Coach, to whip him into shape. Coach is a sexy sports agent that challenges him, makes him want to become a better man, and every time they are around each other, it's as if they're having their own face-off.
After Coach takes him under her wing, Alex wants her all to himself. She has strict rules about dating clients, and he likes breaking them.
PARKER EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
ALEX
Most people hate the loud, obnoxious noise a hockey goal horn makes, but I’m not one of those people. Because that means my team has scored and is one step closer to another victory.
But, this morning, the sweet sound I associate with winning wakes me from a drunken sleep, and for the third time this year, I know the person on the other end of the line is calling with bad news. I lift my head from the pillow, one eye open, as I reach for my cell phone on the bedside table.
Except I’m not in my bedroom. This is not my apartment.
Where the hell am I?
I spot a pink fuzzy robe draped over the closet door, reminding me of something a child would wear. A Harry Potter poster is on the wall above a small desk with a computer, a schoolbag slung over the top of the chair. The room is about the size of a dorm room.
No, this can’t be happening.
When I roll onto my back and sit up, I lean against the headboard, my legs too long for the twin-size bed, and see a naked blonde sleeping next to me. Her arm covers her face, so I can’t tell if I chose well before we left the bar last night. The entire evening is a blur.
Please don’t be a dorm room.
She stirs, a sound escaping her lips.
I silence the ringer on my phone and sigh when I see that it’s my agent calling. This is not good. Answering his call will only confirm that my future with the Washington Capitals is over.
I banged the wrong chick—and not the one next to me.
How was I supposed to know that smoking-hot puck bunny was the granddaughter of the wrinkly old fuck in charge of my paycheck?
I have to man up and face reality, so I return my agent’s call, praying that the owner has granted me a reprieve after another phenomenal season. I think I’ve earned that much. We’re first in our division, and we have the best penalty kill record in the league, thanks to me.
“Hey, Mick,” I say, my hand shaking as I hold the phone to my ear. “Let me—”
Before I can finish my thought, Mickey Donoghue—also known in the sports agent world as Mick the Dick—screams, “Pack your bags, jerk off; you’re going to Philadelphia. Don’t fuck this up, you understand? This is your last chance!”
I sit up straight, my heart pounding out of my chest, unable to process his words. The Philadelphia Flyers are not the worst team in the league, but they’re not the best either. I worked my ass off to make my team worthy of the playoffs. We almost won the Stanley Cup last year. Starting over with a young team is not ideal. In fact, it’s bullshit.
After eight years in the league, I should have my pick of teams. But, after my last fuckup, I lost some of my sponsors and was lucky that Mick was enough of a dick to keep me in Washington, DC. The team refused to sign me with a no-trade clause because of my past indiscretions, which meant I had no choice in where they wanted to send me.
“Can I just meet with the owner? Let me explain to him that it was all a misunderstanding.” I had a good relationship with the owner of the team before the scandal, before I banged his granddaughter in an elevator at The Ritz-Carlton. “Mick,
I thought—”
“No, you don’t think, kid. That’s your problem. You let the wrong head do the thinking for you, and the result is the same every time. Look, you’ve got a lot of talent. I know your father wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”
He’s right about that. My dad would crawl out of his grave just to kick my ass if he knew what I had become since his death. A lot can happen in six months. I screwed up worse than normal, and now, I have to sack up and head to Philly to play for one of the last teams I would’ve ever chosen.
“Alex,” Mickey breathes into the receiver, “you’re my godson, and you have been with me since the start of your career. Your old man was a good guy, a talented player, and an even better coach. He was my closest friend, and because we’re like family, I try to look out for you and your best interests, as if you were my own son.”
“I know. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but you—”
I can almost see Mickey on the other end of the line, holding up his hand to silence me, cutting me off. “Think of this as a chance to start over with a less experienced team that can use your skill set. You can teach these young guys. With a lot of patience and time, you can build this team up and help them get into the playoffs.”
I don’t want to be someone’s mentor. I want to win the Stanley Cup.
A brief moment of silence passes between us before Mickey clears his throat, snapping me out of my daze. My head is pounding, as if it has its own pulse, and the foul taste in my mouth makes me want to vomit. I want to drink myself into oblivion at the thought of leaving my team. But I don’t have a choice.
“When do I leave for Philly?”
Kane (Face-Off Series Book 2) Page 19
