Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
The last thing a Scottish man like me is accustomed to is perpetual sunshine. But Clara McDavid is a ray of light with a bright personality and an unstoppable smile who threatens to chase away all the clouds and gloom I prefer to surround myself with. And I need her. To watch my dogs, that is. Just that.
I thought I would be okay with her sleeping in my bed while I was out of town coaching my hockey team to a championship. But one look at her on the camera I forgot I set up, and I know immediately that I want to be right beside her. Forever.
Clara McDavid
I’ve always had a thing for older guys. And Riggs McCoy ticks every box on a list I didn’t even realize I’d written. But he only wants me to dog-sit. Not make myself at home in his house.
Even after watching all four of my older sisters rush the ice for their hockey player lovers, I never thought I’d want the boys’ grumpy coach for myself. But being wrong has never felt oh-so right.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Riggs
I swear that my life is a sweet virgin asshole, and the world is a Coke-can-sized cock, ready to ram right into me.
With no lube in sight.
Is it too much to ask for lube?
No, right? It’s common fucking decency. But no, the world just wants to ram into me like I’m a porn star.
Rather rude, really.
I don’t ask for much; I just want a simple life. I want to coach the Knoxville Bears, and I want to hang out with my dogs in this small little town where it’s Christmas every day. I hate that they think Christmas is doable in the hot Tennessee summer, but whatever floats their boats, I guess. I just want to be left alone.
I want to walk my dogs in peace, eat some fried food, and maybe indulge in a little side of pussy here and there. Coach my boys and help them navigate life. Nothing too extravagant. I want to survive the rest of my days in peace. That’s not too much to ask, I think. But fate has a different idea. It feels as if fate likes to fuck with me—in every hole imaginable.
Fate tricked me when I was growing up.
I had a good childhood, great parents, and I was happy. I think I ended up on fate’s radar when I got drafted. I was so excited to follow in my da’s footsteps. To be a great hockey player, but in America instead of Scotland like he did. I had every opportunity to stay in Scotland and play, but I wanted to make it in the NHL. I had the talent, I had the drive, but injuries plagued me. Between concussions, breaking my wrist three times, and a snapped tibia, I found it hard to keep coming back. During my recovery time, I couldn’t stay off the ice, and that was when I started coaching. I needed something to do and quickly realized how much I loved molding players into winners. If I couldn’t get my own body to do what I wanted, I had eager young bucks able and willing to do what I couldn’t.
So maybe fate wasn’t too much of a bitch during that.
I mean, it did give me a career in the sport I love, but fuck, if I don’t wish it were me out there with the crisp air hitting my face. Sweat freezing to my jersey. The smell of the ice. The feeling of scoring. I miss it, but I do love how I am helping guys achieve their dreams. This may not have been my dream, but it fills my cup to know I am helping someone get to where they want to be.
Maybe I really got on fate’s radar when Peppa came into my life. It was cruel to bring Peppa along. For her to show me what love is. To give me that sense of completion. God, how I loved her. More than I loved myself, hockey, and anything else. I worshipped the ground she walked on. I bent over backward to make sure she had everything she wanted and needed. I took care not only of her, but her whole family. I gave my life to her. I was hers, and I thought she was mine. But I wasn’t. I was just a means to an end.
Fucking fate. I hate the bitch for sure, but it seems she hates me just as much, and right now is a perfect example of why I’m sure she does. I knew, fucking knew, I shouldn’t have come to the Knoxville Bears Puck and Pups event. I had a feeling I should have just stayed home and hung out with Gretzky and Gordie, but I couldn’t once an email from Elliot McDavid came through.
You’re the coach of our franchise, one of the most important members of the team. I need you to show your face and bring your dogs. We are in the middle of the play-offs. People are excited to meet you. You better be there. I’ll unleash Alex on you.
She’s a crazy lass, that Elliot McDavid.
So, I came, as she asked. But now, I’m cursing the McDavid name. I know that’s wrong of me when three of the McDavid women are engaged or married to my players. They are good women, smart and sweet. Elliot is a damn good social media marketer, and I enjoy working with her. She does keep Alex Cruz, my goalie and a thorn in my side, on a short leash and doesn’t let him bother me much, so it was hard to say no.
Add in the fact that the McDavid sisters are also the granddaughters of my boss, Dan Davenport, whom I respect and enjoy a drink with often. He is very protective of his girls, but there was no keeping them away from the many hockey players who came sniffing around them. He tried, bless, he did. But it didn’t work. I heard one of his granddaughters is in Nashville, engaged to a player on the Nashville Assassins. So, really, he has had no luck in keeping them away from any of the players.