by Penny Dee
Publication date: February 18th 2017
Genres: Adult, Romance, Sports
“You want to know why I train? It’s because it’s the only time I’m not thinking about Tyler and the fact that I killed him.”
Jake Pennington is a hockey super star. Hot. Rich. Gorgeous. And super talented. But when a series of personal tragedies rock his world, Jake’s life is ripped apart and he is brought to his knees. Broken and completely devastated, he retreats to his family cabin in Canada desperate to forget the world and something he once knew as happiness.
“My therapist would say it was me trying to reclaim my life back. To recapture the girl I had once been—frightened of nothing and living life on a whim.”
Mackenzie Eden is battling her own demons. Following a horrific incident in college, Mackenzie throws herself into her job as a means to outrun her pain and her litany of phobias. When her path crosses with Jake Pennington she sees a way to bring them both out of the darkness and back into the light.
Only, Jake’s not buying it. He doesn’t want a sports agent and he doesn’t want a hockey career. Not that Mackenzie is willing to listen. She has a point to prove, not to mention, a bet to win.
Come Undone is a story of two people finding each other in the darkness. A sports romance, it will make you laugh, cry and fall head over heels in love.
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I slid off the stool. I needed to shower and wash away my hangover. But as I passed through the living room I decided to text Jake and try one more time to see if we could meet to discuss his contract. Maybe over dinner.
I sank into the couch and texted him.
Me: Are you still in town?
Surprisingly, he texted me straight back.
Jake: Who is this?
Me: Am I going to have to establish who I am every time we talk? This is your Hello Kitty T-shirt-wearing hooker.
I could almost hear his groan from here.
Jake: How did you get my number?
My shower would have to wait.
Jake: Forget I asked. What do you want?
Me: Are you busy?
Jake: I’m jizzing on the couch.
I looked at my phone. What the fuck?
Me: Ewwww. TMI, dude.
Jake: Jizzing. Im jizzing on the couch.
Me: Oh, that clears it up.
Jake: Chilling! CHILLING on the couch! Stupid autocorrect.
Me: Sure. Blame autocorrect.
Jake: Autocorrect is evil.
I laughed out loud, vaguely aware of my roomies watching me.
Me: Dude, how often do you write jizzing?
Jake: Obviously too much.
I shook my head and chuckled.
Me: I don’t want to know. Are you busy? Can we talk? Dinner perhaps?
Jake: I’m masturbating chicken breasts.
Me: Uh, ok. I will leave you alone with your chicken breasts then.
Jake: oh, fuck me!
Jake: Marinating. I’m MARINATING chicken breasts.
Me: Sure. Masturbating and jizzing…totally makes sense now.
Jake: My phone is possessed.
Me: Your phone is hilarious.
I looked up and both Meg and Anna were looking at me like I was the most intriguing thing in the world.
“You should see the smile on your face,” Meg said.
“I’ve never seen you grin so big,” Anna added.
I rolled my eyes. “Autocorrect has turned his phone into a smut-talking masturbator. It was funny, is all.”
My roommates shared a knowing look.
My phone buzzed again.
Jake: If I promise not to masturbate chicken breasts and jizz on the couch, wanna join me?
I read his message and then read it again. I had expected resistance. I had expected a challenge. I had expected him to be a giant pain in the ass. What I hadn’t expected was a dinner invitation.
Before he found his cranky pants again and reneged on his invitation, I quickly typed my response.
Me: I can honestly say I never thought anyone would ask me to dinner quite like that.
Jake: What can I say? I’m one of a cunt.
Me: Just for the record, you said it . . . not me.
I fought with the laughter bubbling inside of me. At least my crazy hockey player still had a hint of humor left in him.
Me: I’m surprised by your change of heart.
Jake: Your father is quite persuasive.
I should’ve known. He had spoken to Hank.
Me: What did my old man have to say?
Jake: That I should leave my dick open for you.
I couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of me.
Me: I’m pretty sure my father doesn’t want me anywhere near your dick.
Jake: DOOR. My DOOR.
Jake: I hate my phone
Me: I love your phone. If your phone was a guy, I’d date it.
Jake: You’re sexy.
Me: Thank you.
Jake: You’re sick. SICK.
Jake: Fuck. Of course that happened.
Me: On my way. See you in 20.
Jake: Dick is open.
Jake: Fuck my lifesaver.
Jake: Autocorrect hates me.
Unable to stop laughing, I ignored the interested stares of my roommates and went to my room to quickly shower. Afterwards I brushed my hair back into a high ponytail, slipped into my favorite pair of worn jeans, a tank and a figure-hugging, zip-up jacket and pulled on my knee-highs. Twenty minutes later I rushed out the door, squishing down the part of me that was suddenly excited about seeing Jake again.
~Meet the Author~
I have always written stories for as long as I can remember. I wrote my first book when I was five years old. It was called ‘The Goodies’ and it was a short story about driving to the shops to get some milk. Needless to say, it was a very short book and hardly the page turner. It was also illustrated in orange felt tip pen because it was the only felt tip pen left in the pencil case that wasn’t dried up and useless.
My first attempt at writing romance was in high school when my athletic ambitions were replaced with Sunday sessions in my bestfriends bedroom, smoking cigarettes and writing smut about the hot guy at school. They were dreadfully crude stories. Lots of awkward fumblings in the dark or a series of awful first kisses. They were also very straight forward. Very straight to the point. Because I didn’t have a clue about what I was talking about. And I used terrible words such as “shaft”, “her moist warmth” and “velvet cavern”…yeah, they were awesome!
In following years I wisely gave up the cigarettes, became Mum to the “best kid in the world” and married a vastly understanding and supportive soul who tolerated the complete absence of my inner domestic goddess. Through a lot of trial and error, I think I may have started to write stories other people would want to read … without an orange felt tip pen in sight…
Oh … and you can find me in Australia.