SAMPLE. SAMPLE. SAMPLE. PUBLISHED BOOK ON AMAZON AND KU.
Swift Hat-Trick Trilogy book 2.
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Everyone knew the rules.
Gracie Hutton was off limits.
But Tyler's never been one to follow rules.
And now she's about to become his ultimate sin.
...
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I fucking loathe cabs.
The smell of sweat, the lack of decent suspension that sends you jolting around in your seat, and the annoying drivers that can't take your silence as not wanting to hold a conversation with them. I'm nearly tempted to carry a pair of earplugs with me wherever I go as a precaution. Normally I wouldn't have agreed to shove myself into one of the tiny back seats with two other wide-shouldered hockey players, but when Matt wants to party, it leaves no other option. I've tried to fight him on it—and failed—more times than I can remember. Which is the only reason why I'm not lying in a tub of ice in an attempt to ease the ache coursing through my entire body right about now.
As I was finishing up a brutally physical practice this afternoon, Matt called me, and insisted I join him at the club that just opened up downtown. My first thought was fuck no, but it didn't matter. And my teammates, being the boozehounds that they are, interrupted my phone call, and took the invite as their own, joining us without a second thought.
"You couldn't have called us a bigger cab?" I grumble, ignoring the sharp pain in my side as Matt's elbow thrusts its way into my ribcage.
He waves me off. "We're almost there. Stop being a baby." "Stop elbowing me then," I growl and return the gesture, laughing when I hear Matt hiss in pain.
"I'm not trying! You did that one on purpose!"
One of my teammates, Connor, whips around to face us from the passenger seat, his charcoal eyes narrowed."Will you two shut up already? You're like a fucking married couple."
"Sorry," we mumbled begrudgingly.
"We're pulling up anyway," Connor's partner in crime, Aidan, sighs from his spot on my left.
We all jump out as soon as the driver comes to a stop, and Connor reaches through the unrolled window to hand him a fifty. As the cab drives off, I take in the clusterfuck in front of me with a groan of defeat.
The dark red brick building is lit by the neon lights that shine brightly down on the long line of people. Two tall, well-built men stand in front of the double doors and the giant line as they shove the impatient—and most likely underage teenagers—away when they try to sneak around them.
Oh, those were the days. Sneaking into bars, carrying a fake with you at all times in case you needed to make a pit stop at the liquor store. We had a good time back then.
The rap music is thumping so loud, I can feel it pulsing through my legs as we walk across the concrete and towards the club. I follow Matt as he struts towards the front, completely cutting off the four girls next in line to enter the building. I can hear their frustrated scoffs as they're rudely cut off and can't help but smirk.
