Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
AMBROSIA
He was never supposed to notice me.
Dawson Sinclair.
He’s the campus hockey legend in the making, football phenom, total golden-boy chaos.
I’ve grown up around athletes. I know their type.
But then he looks at me like I’m the only person in the arena…
and suddenly the girl who swore she’d stay focused is catching feelings she never planned on.
He scares me.
He challenges me.
He makes me want more than the life I mapped out.
And the worst part?
I think he already owns my heart.
DAWSON
I’ve scored a lot of goals in my none of them compare to Ambrosia Mercer.
One smile from her and I’m gone.
She’s smart, bold, stubborn, and she has this fire that makes me want to be better.
Everyone thinks I have it all figured out. I don’t.
But I know one thing for
I want her.
All of her.
And I’m going to prove I’m not just another athlete in her story…
I’m the guy she was meant to fall for.
Full of laughs, heat, podcast chaos, Sinclair family antics, and heart-crushing tenderness, Tackled by Love is a dual-sport, dual-POV romance where the girl who swore she’d never fall… trips right into the arms of the only boy she thought would never see her
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
FRESHMAN YEAR
Ambrosia
“I think there are better things to do than trying to suck Dawson Sinclair’s cock.”
Doesn’t that seem like a pretty normal thought to you?
Because it does to me.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love a good cock just as much as the next girl. I haven’t been with many, but the few I have were an okay time. Solid five inches of pump and dump. Didn’t even break a sweat. That’s probably why I feel like a cock shouldn’t be the main focus of a college party.
But with the way the Graces are looking at me, you’d think I’d said Ed Sheeran was the worst songwriter of our time.
Or that the Taylor’s Version albums were trash.
Or that the Bellevue Bullies’ hockey team was the worst team in the world.
Nope. All I said was that Dawson Sinclair’s cock isn’t meant to be worshipped.
How dare I.
As always, Grace M., Grace G., and Grace P. seem to think I’m spouting lies and there is nothing better in this whole wide world than sucking Dawson Sinclair’s cock.
Unlike my roommates, I’m not enamored with Dawson Sinclair. Yes, he is the next Sinclair to leave Bellevue for the National Hockey League, but my whole life has been spent around hockey players, so…good for him. Dawson comes from a long line of hockey greats, and just like those before him, he is a force to be reckoned with. Not only does he dominate the ice, but he can throw the hell out of a football too. He is the first freshman starting quarterback in Bellevue’s history. He is one of the highest-paid NIL athletes in Tennessee at only eighteen—whoa—and will probably go first in the draft in whichever sport he chooses.
Basically, he’s the next great.
Dawson Sinclair is also the sexiest guy to skate into the hockey world.
Or, hell, any world.
Fresh-faced with bright greenish-brown hazel eyes and a body that screams athlete, he’s a machine, all tall with big ol’ muscles. He has this hair—it’s dark and shaggy—that he is constantly pushing to the side with his whole hand. Not just a finger, like all his fingers comb his thick hair to the side. It has a bit of a curl to it that I don’t think he takes care of. As a curly girl myself, I know the proper care, but his has a wave that makes me want to trace it. Weird? Yeah.
He has a boy-next-door look—if the guy next door was built like a tank—and a huge smile that reminds me of a happy little golden retriever. He’s always smiling, always a good time, and boy, do the girls love him.
My roommates are his biggest fans.
Me? He’s just another guy who scores on the ice and off.
A lot.
Even as a defenseman, the dude is always scoring.
And as a guy, he’s falling dick-first into any willing hole.
“Ambrosia, it’s you or Grace P. who will suck him off tonight. It’s a rite of passage,” Grace M. says, and I give her a look.
Not only do my roommates all share the same name, but they are a copy-paste of one another. They are the picture-perfect example of Southern debutantes. They come from old money with families who are best friends, and they say they’re related when they’re not. All bright blond hair, big blue eyes, and the perfect little bodies. Short, with big boobs and small waists. My tía is convinced they all got their boobs done together after graduation. I don’t have the nerve to ask, but I don’t think she’s wrong. It totally seems like something they’d do.
While their personalities are trash, they’re all stunning.
Then there is me. While I also come from money since my dad is a retired hockey player and my mom owns a housecleaning business that only caters to the rich, I am nothing like them. I am tall, with dark hair and eyes, along with curves that people love to talk about. To some, I’m hot. To others, I’m too big. To me, I’m just trying to love myself. So I do a lot of ignoring of the outside world to keep the love alive inside me.
It’s hard out here for a thick girl.
Especially when your roommates are real-life Barbies. They tend to comment on my size a lot and always do that, “Should you be eating that?” thing skinny girls love to do when a thick girl is enjoying her burrito. I don’t care what they say or think about me. My dad has always told me, some people will come into your life only to teach you a lesson.
The lesson the Graces have taught me? To be kind. No matter what.
I’ve been living with them for six months now, and it’s easy to say they don’t know the word kind. They are the epitome of mean girls, yet they tolerate me. They’re never outright mean to me, but they’re always quick with the backhanded comments. I’m used to it, though, which I know is a sad thought. Not that my family has ever made me feel less than, but everyone else?