She's not looking for love but he knows she's the girl of his dreams.
Brodie, an Until Her novella from New York Times bestselling author Aurora Rose Reynolds & 1001 Dark Nights is now live!
More book worm than Barbie, Reese Shepard is completely caught off guard when the most beautiful man she has ever seen in her life steps in and pretends to be her boyfriend when some creep won't leave her alone.
She assumes that it's the last time that she'll see the chivalrous stranger, but soon he is everywhere she is. And before she knows what's happening, the two of them are spending all their free time together bonding over their love of the ocean, scary movies, and homemade cookies.
Reese knows that a guy like Brodie Larsen could have any woman he wants and that becomes even more apparent when she finds out that he's a pro hockey player that's worth millions of dollars. So to save herself the potential heartbreak she places him firmly in the friend zone.
If only he'd stay there.
The infuriating man starts pushing for more, lots more, and the worst part is she wants to give it all to him including her heart.
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Keep reading for a look inside Brodie!
Do you really like baking, or is that something you made up so women would find you endearing?"
"No, I enjoy it. It's relaxing." He picks up his burger and meets my gaze. "You really like fishing?"
"I love it, or rather, I love ice fishing. My—" I cut myself off.
"Your?"
"When I was growing up, I would go with my best friend's dad and him almost every weekend in the winter. There is something magical about being in that little hut, waiting for a fish we would cook right there after pulling it out of the water." I shrug. "I haven't gone in a long time, but that is one of my favorite memories from when I was a kid."
"Have you ever gone deep-sea fishing?"
"No, have you?"
"I go whenever I get the chance." His gaze wanders over my face. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Nothing. I have the day off."
"Do you want to go out fishing with me?"
"Are you serious?"
"I never joke about fishing."
"Then, yeah. That sounds like fun."
"All right." He sets his burger down and takes his cell phone out of his pocket. I watch him type something, and then he sets it aside and resumes eating until it dings a moment later. After he picks it up and checks the screen, his eyes meet mine. "Does eight work for you?"
"Sure." I dunk one of my fries into some ketchup.
Dropping his gaze, he quickly texts something back before lifting his burger once more. "We'll meet the charter company I use in the morning, and they'll take us out."
"It must be nice to be rich and famous," I joke, then cringe because it's obvious that who he is is a sensitive topic for him. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
"Don't be." He shrugs. "I deal with that kind of shit from my family all the time."
"They give you a hard time about it?"
"Constantly." He smiles. "My brother is the worst."
"So, when you say you play pro hockey, I'm guessing that means you're pretty good."
"I don't suck." His smile is tinged with a bit of cockiness.
"I don't know much about hockey. How long have you been playing?"
"Since I was a kid. My dad bought me my first pair of skates when I was four. I joined my first team when I was seven and have been playing ever since. You'll have to come to a game when the season starts up."
"I'm not really a fan of sporting events." I hated watching Kirk play football, so I avoided his games like the plague, which probably made me a pretty crappy girlfriend. I just didn't enjoy the violent aspects of the sport and would sit there the whole time with a pit in my stomach, knowing that one wrong hit could cause irrevocable damage. And knowing what little I do about hockey, I imagine it would be the same thing.
"What sports do you like?"
"None." I tip my head to the side. "That's a lie. That sport they play in the Olympics, where they sweep that black ball thing with brooms down the ice, is pretty cool."
"Curling is not a sport."
"It's in the Olympics, so I'd guess they'd disagree with you on that topic."
I listen to him laugh, the deep sound just as attractive as he is, especially when his eyes crinkle at the corners. The dimple in his left cheek, which I didn't notice before, shows ever so slightly. Ignoring the flutter in my lower belly, I focus on eating and just enjoying his company.
Being friends is safe, but there is no way I'll entertain more than that with an apparently famous hockey player who has women throwing themselves at him.
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