Read Online Books/Novels:
Defending Donovan (Face-Off Legacy #6)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
He’ll do anything to earn her v-card… and her heart.
Here’s the thing about Drake Donovan. He’s a hotshot hockey player with a secret the size of his stick, a real monster of a problem. And I’m the only one who can help him.
But as we grow closer, I realize there’s more to Drake than good looks and a big stick. If he wants to be the one to punch my v-card, he has to work for it. There’s only one condition. He has to make me fall in love with him first.
Drake never backs down from a challenge. He’s more determined than ever to win my heart. And if I don’t guard it, I could lose a lot more than my cherry…
Defending Donovan is a full-length standalone novel, complete with hot hockey players, plenty of laughs, and a HEA. Scroll up to get your copy today!
|Books in Series:|
|Books by Author:|
My dick has a life of its own. The girl I met in the hallway after class hasn’t stopped begging me for another pic, and so who am I to deny her? She’s in my cell phone contacts as Becky Big Tits. At least I think her name is Becky. I’m almost positive it starts with a B.
“Give me a sec,” I tell Tucker Kane, one of my closest friends and teammates. “I gotta send this chick another pic.”
He shoots me a nasty look and then shakes his head, laughing. “Fucking weirdo,” he mutters under his breath.
Leaving Tucker outside, I duck into the bathroom long enough to whip out my dick and snap a picture to send to Becky. By now, I would imagine most girls on campus have probably already seen my favorite body part. I’m sort of known for it. Freshman year, I sent a picture to one girl—more as a warning than anything—and from there, I started getting tons of requests and random texts from girls I didn’t even know.
So, it’s not like I’m a total perv.
They ask for it.
As I step into the hallway, Becky sends me a text message full of hearts, eggplant emojis, and a smiley face with a tongue hanging out. She’s not even a challenge.
How boring? Later, Becky.
My dad always told me a girl who doesn’t make you chase her isn’t worth your time. I hate to admit that he’s right, but this girl has already lost my attention. It would be nice to meet a girl who’s not begging for it.
Everyone on campus thinks they know the real Drake Donovan—even my friends and teammates. They couldn’t be more wrong about me. And if anyone ever discovered my secret, this fake reputation I’ve built would be destroyed. So, I have to maintain these bullshit relationships with easy girls. It’s easier than admitting to my friends about the fact I’ve been lying to them for years.
I slip my cell phone back into my pocket and sigh.
“I’m surprised there’s anyone left at Strick U who hasn’t seen your dick,” Tucker says with a smug expression on his face.
I shrug. “New year, new girls.”
He snorts. “Eventually that’s gonna catch up with you. Wait until you go pro and send one to the wrong puck bunny. Look what happened to Preston’s dad when he played for the Caps.”
Well over twenty-five years ago, Alex Parker got into a ton of trouble for having sex with a puck bunny, who turned out to be the granddaughter of the team owner. Oops. And it didn’t help that the hotel caught the whole thing on camera. That’s how Preston’s dad ended up playing for the Philadelphia Flyers alongside my dad. Now, he’s the head coach of the team. He also played with Tucker’s dad, who’s now the general manager.
What happened to my Uncle Alex back then could have killed his career. So, I guess I better be a little more careful when it comes to eager girls who want a piece of me. Still, even though I know I shouldn’t do it, I do it anyway.
“It’s not like I’m settling down anytime soon,” I shoot back. “Until then…”
“No point,” Tucker says, holding open the door to the lecture hall for me. “Too many girls to choose from.”
Tucker practically lives over at the Delta Sigma Phi chapter house. He could be a member of the fraternity with how much he parties with them. Every weekend, he brings home a new girl. Most of the guys who live in our house do. With nine other hockey players living with me under one roof, the on-campus house we share is sometimes like a miniature version of the Playboy Mansion, especially on weekends when we don’t have a game or practice.
When we step outside, the heat smacks me in the face. It’s warm for October, much hotter than previous years. Our final hockey season with the Strickland Senators just started, though it doesn’t seem cold enough for it to be fall.
We walk toward the Student Activity Center, also known as the SAC by everyone on campus. Within minutes, we’re climbing the stairs to the second floor. My stomach growls from the overwhelming scent of fried foods, and a slight pain digs into my side. When was the last time I ate? This morning after practice, I guess. I was so busy with hockey, classes, and then Becky, I didn’t even think about it.
Tucker walks in front of me to grab each of us a tray and hands one to me. On our way over to the buffet line, I move out of the way of a man pushing a metal cart into the kitchen and accidentally bump into someone hard with my elbow. The tray slips from my hand. I reach out to catch it, but it hits the tiled floor, falling in front of the girl I knocked over.