More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
It’s a giant fuck you to anyone who’s ever made us feel two inches tall—in sports, in life, in a relationship—because we deserve so much more.
Changing the future of the sport and inspiring girls and women everywhere, all while wearing ribbons and mascara.
“You’re a woman in the NHL, Hartwell. You’re breaking fucking barriers. There’s not a damn person out there who thinks you’re a disappointment.”
I’ve always considered myself a feminist, but there’s something so goddamn sexy about a man in a backwards hat that has me ready to drop to my knees for the patriarchy.
“You,” he says, and it’s so soft, I think I might have misheard him. “Can I have you, Emmy?” Emmy. Not Red. Not Hartwell. Emmy.
“But I’d like you a whole lot more if you got on your knees like a good boy and showed me you know how to use your tongue and fingers for something less annoying than running your mouth. If not, I have no problem making you sit in a chair and watch while I get off from eight inches of silicone.”
Maverick Miller is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
“You said you wanted me on my knees.” He drops a kiss to my shin, then kneels on the ground in front of me. “And I’ve always liked being a good boy.”
“Am I being good, Emmy?” I twist her other nipple, and her back arches off the bed. “Good enough to touch the rest of you?”
“You’re all woman, baby.” I pull her underwear taut, wedging the thin material between her pussy lips. “I mean, fucking look at you.”
Emmy girl.”
“No one’s ever made you come like this because you were with boys before. I’m a man, and I told you I like to eat. Now fucking sit.”
“My good Emmy girl,” I murmur, and she lights up. Rolls onto her side and looks at me. “Did you like that?”
“You know there’s not a damn thing about you that’s average.”
“You,” he says, and he hauls me across the bed until he settles against the pillows. “You’re more than enough.” “Do you tell all the girls that?” I ask into his neck as he lies on his back and sets me on top of him, my legs on either side of his hips. “No.” He takes my hand in his and kisses my palm. “I’ve never told anyone that. You’re the only one.”
“When it comes to your pussy, Red, I’m Bill-fucking-Nye.”
“But I imagine you’re what heaven feels like, so I’m a converted man.”
“Thank you,” I say, and her eyes flutter open. “Thank you for letting me help you, Emmy. Thank you for letting me be here. You can tell me to go whenever you want and I will, but I want you to know this is exactly where I want to be. I’ve got you.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and his fingers dance over my knee. “Guess I’ve been too busy looking at you.”
You’re a role model no matter what you wear. Look at the arenas—not just ours, but the ones on the road too. Hundreds of girls are wearing your jersey. They look up to you because of how good of an athlete you are, but also because you’re a kind person who goes out of her way to show her appreciation for the fans who show up for her.
“I told you that you’ve only been with boys, not men. Men want you to spend your hard-earned money. They want you to wear those heels, Emmy girl, because you look like a goddess in them.”
I’ve never imagined my future, but for a second, I do. I look one year, five years, ten years down the road and try to get a glimpse into who that person might be, but all I see is red hair. Green eyes. A wicked smile and a whispered pretty boy in my ear. Oh, fucking shit.
I never really felt like I had a home. But with Emmy next to me, I think home is wherever she is. A place I’d like to stay forever.
Cole Meyers is my target, and I’m not going to stop until I’ve broken him into a thousand pieces.
I don’t want her as a teammate or someone I fuck multiple times a week. I want her as so much more—a partner. A girlfriend. My best friend. I don’t know if we lose the game or not. I really don’t fucking care, because I’ve already won. I have her, and she’s the greatest prize of all.
“I feel a lot of things when I’m with you, Maverick, and safe is always one of them,”
“Because it’s Heroes and Legends night. You’re my hero, Hartwell, and you’re definitely going to become a legend. You already are, but technically I don’t think we can classify one season in the NHL as legendary.
“I want more with you, Emmy. I want to come home to you every night and I want to take you out to dinner in the city. I want to hold your hand on the sidewalk and I want to kiss you in the rain. I want all that shit they talk about in the movies.
“How long?” Forever. “Until you get sick of me.” “I’m not sure I’ll ever get sick of you,” Emmy admits. “You’re my favorite person in the world.” “Funny. You’re my favorite person too.”
“To the good men with good dicks who treat us right. And to the good dicks out there who haven’t found their way to us yet. May they hurry up and get here so everyone is happy and satisfied.”
“You deserve all the nice things, Emmy girl, and when you’re with me, I’m going to give them to you.”
His giggle is high-pitched and contagious, and as night stretches to early morning, the two of us fall asleep in each other’s arms, and I think this is what it means to be truly happy.
Oh, god. I love her. I fucking love her.
I love you, I think, when we head to the locker room. I love you, I think, when we celebrate her goal in the first period. I love you, I think, when we win the game and she jumps in my arms. I love you, I think, when she rests her head on my shoulder in the hotel elevator after we get back from dropping Alan off in Lansing. I love you, I love you, I love you, I want to scream. When she kisses my chest before we fall asleep, I think she loves me too.
“What if I beg?” Maverick bends his head and grazes his teeth down my neck. “What if I beg like a good boy, Emmy?”
“This is my meal, isn’t it? I’ve been a very good boy, Emmy. I’ve earned a taste, haven’t I?”
I wasn’t joking about putting mine on the back of my hand. I want to see it every time I touch you. A pretty necklace for my pretty girl.”
“And I’m going to show you every day how wanted you are,” I say softly. “How wanted you are for being you, not your paycheck or your stat line. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Maverick.”
Is it the way to tell people that when I look at her, I see the sun and the moon and all the fucking stars?
It seems so insignificant, because what I feel for her is bigger than the sky. The whole fucking planet. You could go all the way to outer space and there still wouldn’t be enough ways to show her how much I adore her.
“Because I love you more!” he shouts,
“I’ll beg.” “You know I like you on your knees.” “I’ll go there whenever you—”
“Impossible. I could never pretend like I don’t know you. You’re my favorite girl.”
“I love you too. And even if you aren’t here, your legacy will be. We’re naming it the Hartwell Room.”
“Flying to see my girlfriend isn’t a chore, Emmy girl. It’s a privilege, and just more nice things you deserve.”
My eyes bounce to his chest where his newest tattoo is hiding. He got it done two weeks ago, Emmy’s pretty boy spanning across his heart in my handwriting.
