I Hate You - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,102

lingering, and when I pull back, she looks up at me, eyes shining.

“I love you, Charm,” I say softly.

Because once you know a girl sees you for the man you are, once you know she’s never leaving, she wants you forever, and she’ll take a chance on you, it’s easy to let the words out.

“I know,” she says, smiling. “I love you too.”

The minister pronounces us man and wife and presents us to the small audience.

Her hand is in mine, fingers laced tight.

I stare down at her. I figure amazement is on my face, because I’m feeling it, the luckiest man in the whole world, living a real-life fairy tale.

“You and me, babe—you ready?”

“Always,” she says.

I pick her up and swing her around.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading I Hate You. I hope you enjoyed Blaze and Charisma’s story as much as I loved writing it. If you want more passion and angst, take a peek at the short excerpt from Zack and Sugar’s book Boyfriend Bargain or just head straight to the Amazon store to get the entire full-length standalone novel. It is currently FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Honest, heartfelt reviews are like gold to authors, and I read each and every one. If you have a few moments, please consider leaving a review for I Hate You.

Ilsa Madden-Mills

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Excerpt - Boyfriend Bargain

Boyfriend Bargain

© 2019 by Ilsa Madden-Mills

Zach

When I showed up for tonight’s game, I didn’t know it would try to kill me.

I picture the headlines now: D-1 hockey player dies during biggest rivalry event of the year.

Whatever. I push those thoughts down and skate onto the rink, ignoring my out-of-control heartbeat. The thing is, I can’t die. Sure, I scored two goals in the first two periods even after some heavy body checks, but that’s not enough if I want to break the tie.

I need a hat trick.

I need to be the hero.

But the more I think about the fact that my chest is thumping faster than it should, the worse it gets.

Slow down, I tell my heart. Please.

It doesn’t, and I inhale slowly through my nose then out through my mouth. Deep breaths usually chill me out when performance anxiety hits, but the arena spins, and I resist the urge to skate back to the bench and put my head between my legs.

Shake it off, Z.

It’s just nerves in front of the home crowd. Use it as energy.

But this…this feels different. Like a train about to derail.

My jaw tightens as I clench my fists, physically willing myself to push one skate in front of the other.

Dressed in our black and gold, the team and I move to the center of the rink and up to the faceoff. Briefly, my thoughts go to the people in the stands. Watching. Depending on me to be the hockey star.

He has it all, people say. Number one pick in the NHL. Hobey Baker Award winner.

“Z? You good?” It’s Eric, my winger and best friend. Without even looking, I know the redheaded behemoth is assessing me—probably with a scowl on his bearded face.

He’ll think I’ve lost my mind.

He’ll think I can’t keep my shit together when it really counts.

I’m supposed to be strong.

I’m the captain.

I am this team.

“Z?” His voice is more insistent. “You ready for this?”

My chest squeezes and my arms tingle. Am I dying?

Don’t look at him. Dude sees everything.

I give him a nod.

Reece, my younger brother and another version of myself—so much so that it’s eerie—skates up on the other side. He slaps me on the back with his gloved hand and points his stick toward the Minnesota-Duluth players. “Ready to kick some bulldog ass?”

“Yeah.” One of the opposing defensemen catches my eye and makes a lewd gesture with his hands. It’s just a regular season game, but the rivalry between our universities goes back forty years. They also kicked our asses last year during the Frozen Four. Cold determination builds, battling with my racing heart as I grit my teeth. If you want to end up a champion, you have to climb the biggest mountains one step at a time, and right now this team is Mt. Everest.

I have to score.

A clammy feeling washes over me.

Shit.

Get. Yourself. Together.

Somewhere off in the distance, a lone female fan yells,