Steamy Hockey Paperback Bundle: Don't Let Me Series

Don't Let Me Fall

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐"I'm a sucker for sexual tension and this one does it. The romance is exciting, spicy, and swoonworthy but also warm, sweet, and tender. I loved this book!"-- Amazon Reviewer

She belongs to my best friend...but that won't stop me from making her mine.

I want a girl I can't have.

She's my tutor.

My best friend's girlfriend. And my kryptonite.

She also looks really good in my T-shirt.

But she wants the golden boy, and I'm more of the villain type.

Or at least I was....Until I saw her smile for the first time.

But the good guy she wants wouldn't lust after his friend's girlfriend.

And the good guy she's with sure as hell shouldn't be sneaking around behind her back.

So where does that leave me?

Model Behavior

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐"Forbidden romance, toxic exes, toxic parents, badass characters all around. This pulls on the heart strings and doesn't lack in the spice department." --Amazon Reviewer

When you reach rock bottom, the only place to go is up....
Or, for me, apparently it’s straight into the arms of the one person who’s off-limits.
My brother’s good friend and my new roommate.

It wasn’t supposed to happen.
The one rule set when I moved in with them was no sexy shenanigans. Period.

Which should have been easy since the last thing I wanted after catching my boyfriend cheating on me was to start up a forbidden romance.

Especially not with the cocky, arrogant, too-hot-for-his-own-good River.
But when he needs a favor that ends up with us half naked and all over each other…it lights a spark that soon erupts into an inferno.

And sneaking around only adds fuel to the fire.

After all, River is a sucker for things he can’t have. And now he wants me.

But when the past catches up with our present…old wounds and new secrets will be exposed.
Ones that might send me right back to where I started.

Prologue - Ashlyn

My head bobs up and down to the music on the radio while I wait for the red light to turn green and fiddle with my car's heater. Even though it’s late in the afternoon, the temperature is dropping, and I know as soon as the sun slips beneath the horizon, it’ll get cold again. It doesn’t help that my last class is with Professor Williams, who likes to keep her classroom colder than Antarctica. A chill races down my spine as I turn the heat to full blast. At least it’s my last class for the week. I’m ready for a nice, hot bubble bath with a side of ice cream. After the week I’ve had, I need it—big time. 

As I make a mental checklist of my upcoming assignments in my classes while tapping my finger against the steering wheel, a massive truck pulls up beside me. 

From the corner of my eye, I peek over and catch a glimpse of a corded forearm resting against the steering wheel and a chiseled chin. 

Um…hello.

I crane my neck a little further while attempting to be inconspicuous.

Hot damn.  

Clearing my throat, I look back at the stoplight. Because, ya know, it’s rude to stare.

The light’s still red.

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth for a few seconds and go back to my checklist, but the stranger tugs at my curiosity despite my best efforts to ignore him. Unable to help myself, I glance at the guy again. My mouth practically waters as I take in his silhouette.

He has dark sunglasses propped on his nose, and his full lips are mouthing the lyrics to whatever song he’s listening to. His dark hair is somewhat wavy and is pushed away from his face, showcasing his tan skin and stubbled jaw as he stares at the stoplight in front of us. Thankfully, he appears to be oblivious to the fact I’m most definitely checking him out when I most definitely shouldn’t be.

I gulp.

Who is this guy? He doesn’t look familiar.

It’s not surprising, though. LAU’s campus isn’t exactly small, but when your boyfriend’s on the hockey team and is LAU’s golden boy, you get to know people. A lot of people. Especially the good-looking ones. I swear they group themselves together.

But this guy?

I tilt my head, continuing my perusal.

No, I for sure don’t know him.

If I’d seen him walking around campus or around the Taylor House for one of Theo’s parties, I would’ve noticed. I know I would have.

The guy’s good-looking. Very good-looking.

His mouth quirks into a smile as if he can read my mind as he looks down at his lap. I glance back at the stoplight––which is still red––then steal another peek at the stranger.

Is he texting someone?

My phone dings with a notification, and I flinch at the obtrusive sound, my heart kicking up a notch as if I was caught doing something I shouldn’t be, which, I guess, isn’t exactly off-base. Digging the phone out of my purse, I scan the notification. My cheeks heat, and a gasp slips out of me.

Holy crap on a cracker. It’s an airdrop notification. From someone I most definitely don’t know.

Colt Thorne would like to share a note.

Colt Thorne? 

Is he Colt Thorne? 

My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I glance up at the truck again, but the space is empty, and the light is green.

Shit.

A loud honk blares from behind me, feeding my embarrassment until I’m pretty sure I’ll never live it down as I press the gas. As I drive through the intersection while staring at a certain truck a few yards in front of me, indecision gnaws in my lower gut. 

Because if my intuition is right, and Colt Thorne is the tall, dark, and handsome stranger in the truck––and he decided to airdrop me something––should I be stupid enough to accept it? What if it’s a dick pic? Or a list of names from his latest killing spree, since I don’t exactly know the guy, and Ted Bundy was attractive, too, or––

I shake my head.

Calm the hell down, Ash, I chide myself.

But time isn’t exactly on my side if I want to download this message. After all, it only works if you’re within a certain distance from the sender. I stare at the truck’s brake lights as he flips on his blinker, slowing down so he can make a right-hand turn. My thumb hovers over the “accept” button for a solid three seconds. My curiosity gets the best of me, and I tap it.

The notes app opens, and the message sent from the stranger pops up.

This message is for the cute girl in the beater who was staring at me at the light. Hope this is you.

You should text me. 

547-555-4119

My jaw drops, and my gaze snaps back onto the road, but the truck’s gone. He must’ve turned while I was reading his note.

The guy’s ballsy. I’ll give him that much. I glance at the phone again, scanning the message another time, when my phone dings with an incoming text message. It’s from Logan, my boyfriend.

I toss my phone onto the passenger seat as if it’s burned me and turn off the music, too, feeling like I’m on sensory overload. I drive the rest of the way home in silence, parking in the driveway while attempting to erase the last ten minutes from my life like it’s a dirty bathroom in need of bleach. 

Unfortunately, it’s a waste of time.

Because even though I’m in a relationship, I can’t erase the fact that it’s nice. Being wanted. Appreciated. 

I haven’t been given a guy’s number in years. Probably because most of them know I’m in a relationship with Logan, so it would be a waste of their time. But still.

A guy just gave me his number.

A good-looking guy.

A really good-looking guy.

My lips pull into a nervous smile at the memory, but I shake my head and shove the feeling aside.

Get a grip, Ash.

It doesn’t matter how good-looking the guy is or how flattered I am he reached out. I’m in a relationship. And I’m not going to jeopardize it for a stranger, no matter how attractive he is. 

I reach for my phone and pull up the message my boyfriend sent, anxious to move on with my day and push the stranger as far away from my thoughts as possible.

Logan: Hey! You coming tonight?

With a frown, I close my eyes, my enthusiasm for this conversation draining before it even had a chance to begin. I don’t need to ask where Logan’s referring. I already know. 

Me: Next time, all right? I had a long day and just want to chill at home tonight.

Logan: Come on, babe. Live a little. It’ll be fun.

Me: You know Theo’s parties aren’t exactly my thing, Logan.

Logan: But what about us? I want to see you.

Me: This week was rough. The girl I was helping for Buchanan’s class dropped out, so now I need to find a new student to tutor. Not to mention Mia’s already freaking out about her portion of the rent. Seriously. It’s a mess, and I have a headache. You’re welcome to come over and watch Netflix or something, but I kind of want to take it easy tonight. 

Logan: I already told the guys I’d hang out, and I don’t want to bail on them. Come on. You should come over.

I roll my eyes and lean my head against the headrest, nearly choking on the groan in my throat.

Theo’s parties are…a lot. 

A lot of booze. 

A lot of dry humping. 

A lot of loud music. 

And a lot of headaches the day after. 

But I’ve also been avoiding them for way too long, and it isn’t exactly fair to Logan. He keeps inviting me, and I always keep saying no. 

After all, relationships are all about give and take, right?

Puffing out my cheeks, I unlock my phone again and type a quick response.

Me: Next time, I promise. Have fun with the guys. We’ll do something tomorrow. Love you.

Logan: Love you, babe.

With a sigh, I pull up the note from the mysterious Colt Thorne and delete it, despite how flattering the sentiment is.

I’m in a relationship.

And that’s that.