 by Lauren Blakely.jpg)
Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Picture this. I’m about to walk down the aisle when the groom decides to drop this news on me – he wants to dial it down to just f-buddies.
That’s when my brother’s two pro-hockey playing buddies sneak me out of the church seconds before the wedding march begins. They whisk me away in a convertible and we hit the open road.
But what’s a runaway bride to do with a broken heart and a non-refundable honeymoon? Book an extra ticket and take a double honeymoon with two off-limits, totally charming, absolutely gorgeous star athletes who want to lift my spirits.
When we arrive there’s only bed in the hotel room.
And it happens to fit three. The goalie, the forward and me. Looks like I’m about to get thoroughly pucked on my double honeymoon. Talk about lifting my spirits…
Thoroughly Pucked is a standalone hockey, brother’s best friends, runaway bride MFM romance with a guaranteed why-choose style HEA! No swords cross. This story is perfect for fans of spicy hockey romance!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
KEEPING IT TIGHT
Aubrey
They say every girl dreams about her wedding day, but who are they, and how do they know? Did they interview every girl? Also, screw that lie.
I never dreamed of this.
I’m in the musty, wood-paneled bridal room at the non-denominational neighborhood church where my parents were hitched and where my mom still serves as chorus director. I peer down at the lace and tulle dress that feels too long as it grazes my ankles, the diamond solitaire on my ring finger that’s a touch too loose, then the princess-cut lace bodice that’s too pretty for my taste.
This is someone else’s dream for me.
I smooth a shaky hand over my dress, then spin around and meet the gazes of my two bridesmaids—my bookish longtime bestie, Trina, and my feisty and fabulous friend, Ivy.
I put all my energy on them and their unmatching black dresses—I let them pick their outfits because…have you seen bridesmaid’s dresses? “You both look amazing,” I say, since why focus on me when I can focus on others?
Trina turns it right back on me though, saying, “You look beautiful, Aubs.”
“It’s your day and you’re gorgeous,” Ivy adds.
I give a big, playful shoulder shrug and pluck at my dress. “This thing? I just grabbed it from a hanger in the closet.” I’m the fun one, the loud one, the friendly one. So that’s who I’ll be right now, dammit.
Trina holds up a hand. “Stop for just a second and listen…You do look beautiful.”
It’s all too much—these compliments, this dress, this day, these last few minutes before I say I do. “Thanks,” I say, fidgeting with my ring.
Sensing trouble, Trina steps closer, saying with concern, “You don’t seem like yourself, Aubs.”
“If you need anything, just say the word,” Ivy puts in, then points to the door. “Ride or die.”
That offer is far too tempting, but I really shouldn’t go there, even in my head.
Aiden’s the guy for me. He has been since we went to prom together ten years ago. Since we dated again when he returned to Duck Falls briefly after college. And since my wise old dad with the soft, squishy heart told my mom he thought Aiden would be the perfect husband.
“I’m all good,” I say, managing to sound peppy for my friends. I jerk my gaze to the window, staring longingly through the freshly cleaned glass at the parking lot and the white, electric convertible my brother rented for us.
But what if friendly, outgoing Aiden Peters, who returned to town last year to run his family’s pie shop, isn’t the guy I should marry? My gut churns. I hate making a scene, but surely, Trina and Ivy will have the answer. “Girls, I’m not sure if I—”
The door swings open with a loud thunk, the wood slapping the wall behind it.
Ivy flinches. Trina snaps her gaze to the slim guy in jeans and a polo, a smattering of freckles across his fair complexion, his blond hair incongruously messy for today. Aiden’s here and he’s not wearing his tux.
Ivy whips out an arm, pointing to the door. “Rules, Aiden! You can’t see Aubrey.”
“And hello? Put your freaking tux on,” Trina jumps in, like she can’t believe sweet, teddy-bear Aiden forgot to don his duds. “You’re getting married in ten minutes.”
Aiden plucks at his lavender pastel shirt, like this thing? “Actually, I think I look pretty good for today.”
I startle, his odd comment and odd demeanor knocking me further off my game. “W-what do you mean?” I stammer, but there’s a weirdly shameful hope rising inside me.
“Yeah. What do you mean?” Trina demands.
With his best customer-service-in-a-small-town smile, Aiden grabs the door handle, then shows them the way out. “I promise I’ll be quick, ladies. I just need a teeny second with the bride.”
Not my bride. The bride. That hope rises a little higher.
Trina arches a brow. Ivy practically growls at him, then snaps her gaze back to me. “What were you going to say?”
“I’ll tell you later,” I say to my friends, reassuring them. Truth is, I’m dying to know why Aiden’s here dressed like that. Dear god, please say he cheated on me. Stole from me. Fell in mad love with the wedding planner and is running away with her.
They shut the door and it’s just us and my big, inappropriate hope. “So listen,” he begins, and a few bubbles flow through my veins.
For the record, listen is when you know a dude is about to say something dastardly. Why does this fill me with a strange sort of giddy relief?
“I’m listening,” I say, crossing my fingers behind my back.
“You’re a great girl and all,” he says.
There it is. The line that precedes the dump. My heart beats faster. Bring it on. Tell me you’ve been making lattes after dark with the coffee shop owner down the block so I can throw things at you indignantly, like that candle on the coffee table or the songbook. “And you’re seriously hot,” he says.