𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. . . . . . . . . . . We've all heard the tales of good and bad, the tales of innocent deceit and her hero, the tales that despite their nature, show us the beauty in contrast. But it's the tales of pure evil that get swept under the rug. The tales of deception, where cruelty is rewarded. The tales that have you questioning who the real villain of the story is. There's a simple philosophy to most thing in life; two wrongs 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 make a right. So what ensues when you put two of the worst kinds of people together? Loyalties transfer, lines blur, and hatred ignites complete chaos. She's cunning. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. She's dangerous. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴. She's evil. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦. Or so that's what we're told. The devil is always worse. But maybe, just maybe, she's the devil in disguise, playing his advocate... . . . . . . . . . . - 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. - 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧. - 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞.

When photography student, Willow Kennedy, gets offered an internship with her college's renowned ice hockey team, The Michigan Wolverines, she anticipates three things: 1) Her twin brother being an unbearable and over-protective nightmare. 2) Her photographs not making any real impact whatsoever. 3) The team completely shutting out the curly-haired girl pointing a camera in their faces. What Willow didn't take into account, however, was the Wolverine's team captain. Rumoured NHL first draft pick, dreamboat and total game changer- Tate Wilder. With his infectious dimpled smile, sparkling green eyes and addictive personality, Tate quickly turns Willow's internship into a life-changing and eye-opening experience- one filled with love, friendship and opportunities. Willow didn't meet the Michigan Wolverines looking for love, and funnily enough neither did Tate, but love soon found them. ********* "Pretty please?" Her lip juts out in an irresistible pout and you'd almost think she was a sweet innocent flower judging by the puppy dog eyes she's flashing me. But that image is little tarnished by the hand she has dipped into my boxers. I can feel my Adams apple bob as I reply. "O-okay. Fine, you win this time." The smile I get in response is absolutely blinding. A full, mega-watt grin with teeth, crinkled eyes and blush on the apples of her cheek. I'll let her win everything if I get that fucking smile in return.