Crash Course (Scotia Storms #3) Read Online Cathryn Fox

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Scotia Storms Series by Cathryn Fox
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Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83588 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
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He’s the best goalie in the league – Scotia Storm’s golden boy.
Everyone loves the team’s biggest player – everyone but me.
That’s okay, he doesn’t like me either.
We might have grown up in the same small Cape Breton town, but we’re different people from different worlds.
Which makes me wonder why our friends asked us to babysit during summer break.
The forced proximity proves to be hard on my head…and my traitorous body.
But the last thing I want is to get involved with the guy who blatantly ignored me growing up.
Except he’s not ignoring me anymore.
Nope, not ignoring me at all.
Instead, he’s showering me with kisses and touches and OMG, things are so damn good, I forget why we hate each other.
Until summer comes to a close and our past catches up to us, reminding me why we can never ever be anything more than enemies.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

1

Piper

In Nova Scotia, April showers bring…snow. I’m not just talking about a light dusting here—like the weatherman called for. I’m talking thick, heavy flakes that are weighing down my hair and piling up fast beneath my Jimmy Choo’s. Having grown up in Baddeck, a small town on Cape Breton Island, where they get even more snow than they do here in Halifax, you’d think I’d know better than to wear expensive shoes in April. But I had to talk to my fashion design teacher over at the community college and I always like to appear put together and professional. But you’d think I’d know to carry my shoes and put them on just before my meeting.

I trudge across the street, my feet and ankles freezing, and note a few cars swerving as they take the corner. I guess they took their winter tires off too soon. At least I know better than to do that, and I’m glad I walked to the campus this afternoon instead of driving, even though only a fool would be traipsing outside in this kind of weather. I snort at that. I suppose I’ve been called worse…

I hurry across the street, on my way to my friend Kennedy’s house, and as I approach Beckett Moore’s Jeep in the driveway, I roll my eyes, because yes, he’s the one who’s called me worse. Not to my face, of course, but I’d heard things back when we attended Baddeck High together. Who would have thought we’d both end up at the same college in Halifax? I probably should have figured it out though, considering he’s an amazing hockey goalie, and much coveted by the Scotia Storms, the academy’s kick ass team.

Beckett and I even shared a few business classes our freshman year—keeping our distance in the classroom, of course—and while I’m enrolled in the business management program, I’m also taking design classes at the community college because fashion is my passion.

I put my hand on Beckett’s snowy Jeep to steady myself as I navigate around it, not wanting to land on my butt as my feet slide, but the second I make the turn—big fat snowflakes blurring my vision—Beckett comes sliding out from underneath the vehicle, the dolly’s wheels getting stuck in the snow.

I gasp at his sudden, unexpected appearance, and try to jump out of the way, but I slip and contort, hurting my back, and end up with my legs wrapped around his head, as I straddle his face. Wait, is he grinning?

“What the hell, Beckett!” I try to stand, but only end up wiggling and gyrating, and dear God, never in my entire life did I imagine I’d be sitting on Beckett’s face—or that I’d be enjoying it. Okay, maybe I did once, a couple months ago at our friend’s wedding, when he accidently smudged cake on my cheek and dress, then accidently swiped at my breast when he tried to help me clean it off. Ridiculous, right? Especially considering the fact that I hate this man with every fiber of my being and would like nothing more than to wipe that smirk from his face. A man as horrible as Beckett should not be gifted with such adorable dimples.

“Need a hand?” He puts his big, rough hands on my hips to still me.

Ohmigod, he has no idea what his touch is doing to me. Or maybe he does. There isn’t a girl on campus besides me who is immune to his charm. In my current predicament, as snow falls onto his face, his mouth so close to the needy juncture between my legs, I’m not convinced I’m immune to it either.

“What were you doing under there?”

“What are you doing up there?” he counters, and I’m pretty sure his hands are holding me in place.

“I’m trying to get off.”

Ohmigod, kill me freaking now.

“Is that so?”

I give a fast shake of my head, and my wet hair clings to my cheeks. “It’s not…I mean, I didn’t mean it that way.”


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