 by Sheridan Anne.jpg)
Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Ruggedly handsome, sexy, and dynamite in bed.
He’s my husband and NHL God, and now, I'm having his baby.
Nothing can change how I feel about him.
Nothing could tear him away.
TANK
She’s the love of my life and the mother of my unborn child.
I’m one hell of a lucky bastard, the world in the palm of my hand.
If only she had listened.
Things would never have changed.
Don’t Your Pucking Dare is a New Adult, College Sports Romance with a HEA.
CONTENT WARNING: Detailed sexual content, violence, pregnancy loss, and heavy coarse language.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
SOPHIE
4 Months Earlier
My eyes spring open into the early morning haze, my stomach clenching with unease. “Ahhhhhhh, fuckkkkkkk,” I groan, throwing the blankets back and scrambling out of bed butt naked, no time to find any clothes. I clamp my hand over my mouth, terror rocking through my veins.
My feet slam against the carpet as I race to the bathroom. I’m not gonna make it. I’m not gonna make it. “Babe,” Tank grunts behind me, as I hear the familiar sound of the big guy throwing himself out of bed. “What’s wrong?”
If I stop to reply, I'll end up blowing chunks all through our bedroom, and despite this man being my husband and the love of my life, there are some things a woman simply must keep to herself. Instead, I race through to the bathroom, the tiles cold under my feet as I slam the door between us, the loud thud echoing through the silence.
Knowing my big caveman is bound to attempt to follow, I hastily lock the door behind me, my fingers scrambling over the little button and wasting precious seconds I simply don’t have.
Confident I’m free to hurl in peace, I take the final steps to the toilet and drop to my knees, hastily gripping the toilet seat and pulling it up. Finally, I hang my head over the rim just in time to violently throw up, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet.
“Babe?” Tank rushes out, looming over me as he rushes in to grab my hair, pulling it away from my face.
Horror blasts through me, realizing I mustn't have locked the door properly. “Get out,” I cry, trying to shove him away. This man has seen me at my highest highs and every one of my lowest lows, but this is where I draw the line.
Tank scoffs, completely disregarding my need for privacy as he manages to get the hairband off my wrist. He wrangles my hair up into a messy bun, then once he’s certain it’s not going to fall out, he gets up and finds a washcloth. I hear the water running and within seconds, Tank is right back at my side, handing me the wet washcloth while I rest my forehead against the cold porcelain of the toilet.
After two more chunk-blowing episodes, I’m finally able to get up off the bathroom floor, and without hesitation, I fall straight into Tank’s big arms. He wraps me in his embrace, one hand gently holding the back of my head against his chest as his other snakes around my body, claiming as much of my body as possible. “Feeling better?” he murmurs as I listen to the heavy thumping of his heartbeat through his chest, my eyes closing, already completely exhausted with the day and it’s not even 7 a.m.
Closing my eyes, I take a few calming breaths, and as my stomach finally begins to settle, I nod against his wide chest. “Yeah, actually. Heaps better,” I tell him, feeling a newfound energy pulsing through my veins.
Tank drops a soft kiss to the top of my head and releases me as I step out of his warm arms and turn toward the vanity. My brows furrow, not understanding what the hell just happened. How strange to go from violently throwing up to feeling perfectly fine.
Stepping up to the vanity, I smirk at Tank’s attempt at putting my hair up. It’s an absolute mess, and if I was outside in nature, I’d have the birds confusing it for their nests. I appreciate it all the same though.
Pulling open the drawer, determined to brush my teeth and get my clammy ass through a shower, I start digging around for everything I need when my fingers brush across the small packet of tampons. My whole body tenses, something gnawing within me.
I start doing the math while shaking my head.
No, I couldn’t be . . . Could I?
“Babe?” Tank questions, sensing my alarm. He steps right up behind me, taking my hips as he stares at me through the bathroom mirror, his eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”
“I, umm . . .” I swallow hard before locking my gaze on his through the mirror, knowing damn well he’s not going to like this. But there’s only one way to know for sure, and I’m not about to do that with him gaping at me. “I’m gonna need you to get out.”
“What?” he breathes, gripping onto my hips tighter. I know exactly what’s coming next.
Turning into him, I shove my hand against his chest and shove him back toward the door. “Two minutes,” I tell him as he gapes down at me, not even budging a little.
“Babe,” he mutters. “What the fuck is going on? Is something wrong?”
I shake my head. “Everything’s fine. I just need two minutes,” I tell him. Then using all my strength, I push and prod at him until I can finally get the door shut between us. But let’s be real, the man is an absolute monster. If he really wanted to stay and find out what’s on my mind, he could have done it easily. Hell, he could overpower me just by breathing in my direction, which tells me that he’s giving me this moment of privacy. I couldn’t be more grateful.