Résultats de "Saxon James" dans Toutes les catégories

Give me the smallest reason to make a bad decision, and I’ll jump in with both feet. Case in point: thinking that drunkenly buying an abandoned town with my brothers is a good idea. As builders, we plan to renovate and flip the town, maybe turn it into something worth seeing, but the longer we’re here, the more things feel … off. It’s not until a bearded mountain man breaks into my room in the middle of the night and threatens for us to get out of his town that I realize Wilde’s End isn’t as abandoned as we were told.

When it comes to hockey, I'm all about the game. I've worked for years to be one of the best in the league, and l've done it without splashing my orientation all over the tabloids. My hockey image is one I've carefully cultivated, and after one night with Ezra Palaszczuk, I risk it all. He's cocky, obnoxious, and has an ego bigger than Massachusetts. And okay, maybe he's the sexiest man I've ever known. We'll never get along. Not when we sleep together. Not even when my possessive streak awakens. That doesn't stop us from falling into bed together over and over again.

My loser high school friend never deserved him anyway. If I’d had the chance, I would have locked Remy down years ago. Only, when the party leads to a drunken kiss, going on their honeymoon, and sharing their marital bed, I have to say, I’m not entirely sad that their wedding went up in flames.

As social chair of Sigma Beta Psi, I’m the life of the party. It’s what I’m known for, and if it’s not fun, I’m not interested, simple as that. I’m not someone who overthinks. So, when one of my brothers hooks up with a dude from another frat house, it catches me off guard when I can’t stop thinking about them…together. There’s only one way for me to get this obsession out of my head, and that’s by jumping in with both feet and putting it into practice.

The idea of moving away from Seattle was a joke at first. I have too many failed relationships here. Too much baggage. So when I find myself signing with Nashville and leaving everything behind, I’m hopeful a new start will cure me of my attachment problems. I fall fast and hard, and I’m quickly realizing it’s not so easy to escape my emotional damage. That follows no matter where I go.

There’s something seriously wrong with me. For once, I’m not talking about the health anxiety that randomly pops up and wreaks havoc on my life. I'm talking about, well, everything else. All my roommates have found someone to love them, and it hurts to see the guys who used to have me at the center of their worlds pair off and grow up, especially when it’s a reminder of how alone I've always been. I’ve always had an issue with relationships. With forming a connection with people outside of Seven, but this is more.

When I show up to surprise my boyfriend in a barely-there festive outfit, I’m expecting him to be alone. Not hosting family. His fiancé’s family. Down one boyfriend and up a lot of embarrassment, I flee with my tail between my legs. The broken heart will fade. My humiliation, not so much, but my saving grace is the fact that I never have to see either of them ever, ever again. Until I walk into work and come face to face with my new boss.

Being president of a frat house means everything is on my shoulders. Idiot brothers, epic pranks, a list of organizational duties long enough to make my eyes bleed. None of it fazes me. But senior year is almost over, and I’m ready to take a step back.

Finding out those closest to me don’t see me as the great guy I think I am not only kicks me in the gut, it makes me question everything. Until that happened, I didn’t think I had many regrets in my life. Now, I have nothing but regrets. And when my NHL team is bought out, and the new owner makes his presence known, my existential crisis kicks up a notch. Because he might be my biggest regret of all. Parker Duchene. I made his life a living hell in high school, and now he’s inserting himself into my career to repay the favor.

For the last three years, I've lived and breathed hockey with one goal: team captain. There's only one thing standing in my way. TJ Beckett. Beck is irresponsible and immature, and I've hated him since the moment we met freshman year. Yet the coaches see something in him I obviously can't, and they refuse to choose between us. The captain spot is going to a team vote. And the team thinks that what we need are a bunch of challenges to prove our worth.

At first, I thought it would be an easy payday. A few pew pews for bad people, a couple of suitcases of cash for me. People have done worse for an honest living. The problem is that after a couple of jobs, I’ve never actually managed to unalive someone, and not for lack of trying. Apparently, a basic requirement of a hitman is being a good shot. Despite my constant duck-ups, I’m given another name, and I very nearly follow through. Only after obliterating this guy’s ear and his fervent pleading to spare him, I’ve sent him into hiding and collected the cash anyway.

After a little mishap in an alleyway with CCTV, my public image needs fixing. Oops? It might have been a stunt to get the attention of Lane Pierce, San Jose’s new PR manager, but I didn’t realize what the consequences would be when I did it. I’ve got Lane’s sole focus now in all the wrong ways.

You know what’s the worst feeling in the world? Being in love with someone since you were twelve years old, knowing they only see you as a little brother type. Not even becoming an NHL star has made him realize I’m all grown up now. All of that changes when I ask my brother’s best friend to ref a charity match and we spend an entire week in each other’s pocket. Being close to him is torture, but for the first time since my adolescent crush started, I begin to feel hope.

After my divorce, I’m ready to have fun, date around, and not get into anything serious. Then I meet Gabe Crosby, superhero firefighter and a disgrace to the Crosby name. He doesn’t even like hockey! Yet, there’s a draw to him I can’t deny—something I haven’t felt since my teens. But that’s the problem. I have no idea what dating is like, let alone how to do it with another man. He makes me flakey and nervous, and I’ve never been that guy.

Moms are good at one thing: the guilt trip. It’s the only reason I’m at the funeral of a man I’ve never had anything to do with. I’ll show up, make her happy, and get out. At least that’s what I think until I learn daddy dearest has left me a crap load of money and the obligation to learn about the family business. All from his eldest son who looks nothing like the rest of us.

The worst part of being in love with my straight best friend is the fact he’s too oblivious to see it. Years of pining have left me exhausted, and I need a break from Dex. I need space to get over my feelings. But when his relationship falls apart and he turns to me for comfort, I cave immediately. If there’s one thing I hate more than being hurt, it’s seeing Dex struggle. I can’t leave him in a time of need, even if my friends say it’s my biggest downfall. They say Dexter Mitchale is my weakness, but if that’s true, I don’t want to be strong.

"Look out for Zach, and don't hit on him." My brother's request sounds easy enough. Keep an eye out for his best friend on campus and keep my hands to myself. Easy. Even if Zach is a quintessential nerd, who I've always thought was cute, I don't have the time to think with my...stick. There's only one stick I should be focused on this year, and that's my hockey stick. My goal once I graduate is to get an NHL contract. The last thing I need is a distraction. On or off the ice. Only, keeping to the rules is harder than I thought it would be.

It turns out making out with my best friend in high school could be considered gay. Who knew? Apparently, everyone but me. Now that it's been pointed out, I can't help reliving it in my head. Repeatedly. Good-bye Denial Town, hello Confusionville. When my path leads me down the gay dating app route, I don't expect to meet anyone I like, but then I meet him. He can't be more opposite than me. He's smart, he hates hockey, and he identifies as demi - something I've never heard of. Yet I can't deny something's there.

Once upon a time, playing for the NHL was my dream. Then Radimir Novicov skated circles around me and made it clear I’d never be good enough. He was smart, talented, and worst of all–sexy. Every closeted guy knows that you don’t hit on your teammate, even if his gaze lingers longer than it should. All it took was one drunken close call before our friendship was in tatters, he was called up to the NHL, and I was sent for further conditioning. Playing in the NHL was off the table, so coaching became my new dream. And seventeen years later, I’m finally heading to the big time.

Straining my groin is bad enough. It puts my hockey career, my future, but even worse, my dignity on the line. Having to get massages in that area from Vance Landon, one of the team trainers, is mortifying. It’s impossible to hide my feelings toward him. If my constant blushing and bumbling doesn’t give it away, my body does. It’s getting to the point where I wonder if hockey is even worth the embarrassment. Trying to avoid him only makes him seek me out more. He’s determined to rehab my injury, but all I want is for him to leave me alone.