Novels by Donna Sheldon

I woke up with my sheets twisted around my legs, one arm draped over my eyes like it could somehow block out the reality of the day ahead. But it was no use. I could feel it crawling under my skin the moment I blinked awake.Game day.Freshman team.Andrew.Fuck.I sat up slowly, groaning as my back cracked in three different places. My throat was dry as hell and my head throbbed with that low, dull ache that only came from too much alcohol. The air was chilly, but my skin was already prickling with leftover tension, like my body remembered something my brain hadn’t even caught up to yet.I rubbed at my face and stumbled out of bed. The sun was slicing through the blinds in sharp little stripes, hitting the floor like prison bars. Not a great metaphor, considering I felt like a goddamn hostage in my own brain lately.I took a quick shower, half-assed my grooming, and yanked on my gear. The jersey felt heavy today, like it was carrying more than just the weight of my number.I didn’t e

The morning after drinking never hits me soft.I woke up with my mouth dry as the damn desert, tongue heavy, head pounding in a rhythmic thud that felt like someone was using my skull as a fucking drum. My sheets were twisted up around me like I’d been in a fight with them. My arm was hanging off the bed, fingers barely grazing the empty bottle of water I must’ve dropped sometime in the middle of the night.I groaned, rolling over to bury my face into the pillow, hoping it’d just knock me out again. No such luck.I wasn’t even fully conscious yet, and I already hated everything.For a good ten minutes, I just laid there, eyes closed, brain foggy as hell, letting the weight of last night sink in. Me, drunk off my ass. James sitting across from me looking like I’d told him I was secretly a lizard person or some shit.The way his jaw dropped when I said the word OnlyFans still made me cringe. I hadn't meant to tell him. I hadn’t meant to say anything, really.But liquor loosens lips, and

The bar wasn’t even that packed. Low lights, shitty country music humming from old wall speakers, and a few groups scattered around pretending their lives didn’t suck for a few hours. I should’ve been home. Shirt off, lights off, maybe filming something I would regret later for a quick confidence boost. But no. James, with his stupid grin and overly persuasive voice, somehow convinced me to get my ass out tonight.“You need a change of scenery, Cap,” he’d said. “Come on. Just a few drinks. Might even meet someone hot.”Right. Because nothing screams "emotional stability" like trying to flirt with strangers while my brain’s still locked on someone else's hands on my skin. Someone else's voice in my ear. Someone else's goddamn face.And now here I was. Elbow against the sticky bar top, drink number... shit, I’d lost count. Whiskey burned like a bitch going down, and I welcomed it.James had wandered off to talk to some girl earlier, but he came back eventually, dropping into the stool n

CAPTAIN ~I didn’t even feel the cold when I stormed out. Didn’t register the voices around me. It was all a blur. White noise.My pulse was roaring too loud in my ears.Slamming Andrew against the wall? Yeah, probably not my proudest moment. But the way he looked at me—like I was some stranger—set something off. My hand was still tingling from where I’d grabbed him. My chest felt too tight, like I couldn’t breathe properly. Each step I took was heavier than the last, like my feets were weighed down by the mess of emotions twisting in my gut.I rounded the corner and pushed open the side door, stepping into the biting afternoon air. It should’ve cleared my head but it didn’t.“Captain!”A hand grabbed my shoulder.I stopped mid-step, jaw clenched, stomach already dropping because I knew that voice.James.He was always too observant for his own damn good.“You alright?” he asked, voice low, cautious. Like I was some wild animal on the verge of snapping.And maybe I was.“No,” I almo

ANDREW PARKER ~“Gush—!” I stumbled back, clutching the wall behind me like it could explain what the hell just happened. “That scared me…”The words barely made it out of my mouth. My heart was racing like it wanted out of my chest, lungs dragging air in like I’d been running for miles. My shoulder throbbed where he’d slammed me—his hand like a damn vice, fingers bunching up the fabric of my hoodie before shoving me hard into the concrete hallway wall like he owned the whole damn building.Captain.That psycho.I rubbed my shoulder, grimacing. His grip had left a phantom imprint, like his touch still clung there. I could almost feel the exact shape of his fingers through the layers of hoodie and t-shirt underneath.“What the fuck is wrong with that psycho?” I hissed under my breath, voice shaking with a mix of fear and fury. My hoodie was all stretched and twisted from where he grabbed it, so I yanked it back into place and patted it down like that would erase what just happened. My

There’s something about the sound of skates carving into fresh ice that always centers me. Cold, sharp air in my lungs, the hiss of movement, the dull roar of blades digging in. It’s therapy. I tugged on my helmet and rolled my shoulders, staring out at the rink as my team warmed up. The morning chill still clung to everything, misting from our mouths with every exhale, but inside my chest, it was a furnace. Burning slow. Uncomfortable.I kept my expression blank. Didn’t want to show it. Didn’t want to admit that I’d been looking forward to this practice for the worst reason—because I knew he’d be there.Yeah. Andrew.Pretty boy. Fuckboy. Muse. Mistake. Whatever the hell you wanna label it.I spotted him immediately when I stepped on the ice. Like my brain had a built-in radar that beeped hot whenever he was within fifty feet. He was on the far side, helmet off, smiling at something one of the rookies said. That lazy smile. And then I noticed something else.He wasn’t looking at me.