BWWM Dark Hockey Romance Books | Varsity Surrogate | McGraw College Minotaurs Book #2
Welcome to the first preview of Varsity Surrogate, the second book in the McGraw College Minotaurs series. If you’re here from Book #1, you might have already read this chapter. However, I encourage you to read it again before the book drops so you can remember all the details in this deliciously smutty dark romance featuring college conspiracies, a dangerous cult, and an addictive romance plot.
Diesel, the male lead, is a Texan alpha male and the deliciously cruel hockey goalie featured in Book #1. We’re going to get one of the scenes from the first book from a different perspective, plenty of heat, potentially triggering content and our first plus sized female lead of the series!
Mona is my hell on high heels character and standing at 4’11”, she’s a short, plus-sized lead who knows how to work her heels in every situation. And trust me, she will find herself in so many situations.
Keep reading to preview the first chapter of the book…
Romance Novel Excerpt | Varsity Surrogate | Chapter #1
Chapter #1
DIESEL
I hate these rare, uncomfortable formal dinners with my father. He flies his private jet into town twice a month for these “bonding” events that make us both absolutely miserable. I would much rather be playing hockey than dealing with family shit, and I’m pretty sure dad agrees. We’re more similar than either of us like to admit – both blond, giant, Texan assholes.
“Your tuition bill for your spring semester is due in four weeks,” dad says out of the blue. Great. A money conversation. If there’s one thing to make a tense conversation worse between us, it’s money.
“Okay.”
I avoid eye contact, hoping he changes the subject to neutral ground like professional hockey, football. Hell, I would even talk about baseball to avoid talking about money.
He continues, despite our obvious shared discomfort. “I don’t have the money. I had to ask Poppy for it.”
Poppy is our term of endearment for the only person I dread spending time with more than my dad – my grandfather, Daniel J. Knox. I shift uncomfortably because this is worse news than my father’s tone conveys. Poppy owns the majority of the oil operation, but my dad is still a shareholder and he has millions of dollars from his professional earnings, even if he became the black sheep for choosing hockey over business.
“Is everything okay, dad?” I ask him, less out of concern for him than concern for the next hour or so of my life.
“No. It’s due to the terms of the trust agreement, something I have largely kept you from worrying about throughout your teen years.”
He clears his throat and then shrugs before continuing, “You shouldn’t have to worry about that for at least another week.”
That doesn’t sound like a very long time. My eyes narrow as I search my dad’s face for what the fuck he means. He betrays nothing. Never any emotion on a Knox boy’s face.
“You sound broke,” I grumble, hoping to get under his skin so I can get some real information out of him.
My dad is too egotistical to withstand a comment like that without exposing some of his hand. Unfortunately, the old man and I have a lot in common when it comes to our ego.
“Our money is in a trust, Diesel. You know that.”
“Weren’t you a professional hockey player?”
Dad gives me a bitter look. “Divorce is expensive. We have your mother to thank for that.”
Yeah. And his gambling habit. His private jet habit. His hooker habit. I can’t forget his addiction to sports cars that cost more than the average house in Boston.
“Your point?” I respond flatly, feeling my irritation with dad growing. He always hints that it’s my fault for the divorce or for the fact that he always ends up broke at the worst times. “You haven’t had problems paying my tuition before.”
“You’re nineteen,” he says. “That has to change. Listen, it’s all very complicated, but those are Poppy’s rules.”
“What exactly is so complicated? You haven’t explained anything?”
I hate talking about money with him and tonight sounds like I’m going to get a fuck ton of bad news.
“Trusts have terms and conditions. To get Knox family protection and management of our assets, we both signed documents involving how much money I can get from the family and how much of my earnings I can withdraw. I’ve hit my limit.”
“I don’t remember signing any documents.”
“Do you remember anything from your eighteenth year?” my dad asks, referring to my tiny little cocaine problem, which I don’t even struggle with anymore. He has a fair point. I was in a sex addicted haze during my first semester of college. If it weren’t for Jesse and Chuck, I probably would have lost my spot on the hockey team. Those assholes saved my life.
“What’s the big deal?” I grumble. “I’ll do whatever he wants. I need to play this semester, so I’d better do what the old man wants.”
Then dad drops the bomb.
“He wants you to have a kid,” Dad says calmly. “If you want money for your tuition, you need to comply.”
Okay. This is absolutely ridiculous.
“Dad. I’m twenty-one and I’m single. Not just single, I’m fucking two of the hottest chicks on campus.”
I wait for him to offer his approval. Sure enough, dad smiles.
“Big jugs?”
“Absofuckinglutely.”
It’s a temporary distraction. I sink back to reality and my stomach coils in a tight knot. This is the most fucked up father-son dinner we’ve had since dad got one of my high school girlfriend’s pregnant.
Dad’s smile fades as the unfortunate subject of my grandfather’s wishes crops up again.
He offers the closest he ever comes to support. “You’re just like your old man. You don’t want to be tied down. But you were a blessing, D. I got it wrong the first time with your sister. But with you… you were worth it.”
“Dad, I’m not knocking up some sorority slut who’s gonna spend the rest of my life chiseling away at my earnings for child support.”
“Then knock up someone else. I don’t care. I need a positive pregnancy test and some kind of proof or you can talk to Poppy and beg him to change the terms of his arrangement.”
“Has Poppy ever changed the terms of the trust?”
“No,” dad says immediately. “That’s why your sister is living in a yurt in Jamaica getting fucked by a bunch of n… nevermind.”
I ignore any mention of my sister, Daisy. She hates me and she’s hated me ever since our parents got divorced. She takes it personally that I want to have a relationship with our dad because of what he did to mom. It’s not like I agree with what he did but… he’s my dad. He showed up to all my hockey games. He understands me like nobody else does – even if he’s fucked up.
Mom and Daisy aren’t perfect either.
Dad glances around nervously and then leans in with his advice for how the fuck I’m going to get out of this. “Find someone desperate, find someone who needs money. Once she carries the baby to term, you won’t ever have to answer to the trust again until your kids need money.”
“So in approximately eighteen years by this fucked up calendar of events?” I respond, my panic setting in. I don’t want to have a baby. Not with any of the chicks I know.
“Plenty of time,” dad says calmly. “Hey, if you don’t want the kid, you could always have ‘em whacked by the mob after they move out.”
He laughs at his own joke. I don’t think dad is funny. Like I said, I think we’re similar – fucked up rich kids.
“Hilarious, dad.”
“I thought so. Listen, you’re a popular kid, you’re a star on the team, get one of those skanks to spread her legs for you and don’t be afraid to catch it all on camera.”
I nod, although I don’t know if I should take my dad’s advice. A kid is a big commitment.
“Right.”
“I can have a lawyer draw up a surrogacy contract for you. It’s what my brother did.”
“Your estranged brother?”
My uncle lives in Zürich and he hasn’t spoken to anyone in the family in years.
“Yes,” my father replies. “He chooses his estrangement.”
“This is big, dad. I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Then think about it. Don’t you have a big party tonight?”
I shake my head. I have no idea what I’ll get up to tonight. Dad misses his college days when he spent his time fucked up, or skating. Again, we’re similar. Too similar.
“No. Apparently, I’ll be searching for the mother of my child.”
“Don’t overthink it,” dad says, which seems like terrible advice. It probably is since he’s been divorced three times.
“Thanks, dad,” I grunt. “Maybe I just need to sleep. Think about it.”
“It’ll only take you a couple minutes to get the job done,” he says. “I’ll have your lawyer contact you with everything you need.”
A couple minutes? Dad has no faith in me. I shake my head and ponder my miserable fucking fate. It’s hard being a rich, Southern white guy – way harder than anybody realizes.
Just after dinner, my best friend, the school hockey captain Jesse Rousseau, calls me with an urgent problem. He needs me to sneak him off campus past a bunch of crazy sorority chicks so I can take him to some motel where he’s stashing his current conquest – a freshman chick that he swears he is completely in love with.
I get it. He has a jealous ex-girlfriend who hates black chicks and wants to take down the freshman. But I don’t even have time to change out of the suit-and-tie dress code from the insufferable upscale restaurant dad always picks.
I text Jesse a place I can meet him with the truck where I know he can sneak away from anyone who might have eyes on the hockey house. Everything has been completely fucked up lately and it’s hard to keep my shit straight on the ice with all this crap going on.
My rotation of girls probably won’t last the week… I can’t imagine getting any of those chicks pregnant. No way.
I drive the truck to the isolated clearing behind an abandoned shed where the college stores mowers and a bunch of hippie decorations for the Mountain Club kids annual Earth Day celebration. I shut the truck off and turn the lights off as I wait for Jesse.
He’s willing to go so far out of his way for this Peyton chick. I don’t judge, but it’s extremely weird to me that Jesse settles down with one chick when he has a fucking buffet of blondes begging for hockey cock twenty-four seven.
I guess he likes ‘em one at a time but I can’t relate. I’ve never met a chick worth settling down for and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. That’s the problem with my dad’s plan.
“You okay, man?” Jesse asks after he’s climbed in and shut the passenger door
“I’m the one who should be asking you that question,” I respond, giving Jesse’s disheveled appearance a once-over. He’s my best friend so I can be real with him when he looks like utter trash.
“I’m not fucking okay, man. There’s some shit going down with Sigma Lambda Tau and Peyton is on the goddamn run with her best friend.”
“Who’s her best friend? Alexis?”
“No, some black chick named Mona.”
“I don’t know her.”
I don’t know any black chicks on campus. I’ll be honest with you, these Northeastern black chicks don’t take too kindly to a Texas Southern gentleman like me. They think I’m the source of all their problems even if we go to the same fancy private school and I don’t do anything racist that might bother them, except a couple misunderstood pranks that might have gone down between the hockey team and the basketball team.
Just because you do something to a bunch of black guys doesn’t make it racist. Dad might’ve been right about me leaving the South, but I have a better chance of getting recruited to the NHL at a feeder school like McGraw. As much as dad hates to admit it, I’m not as good of a player as he was.
I’ll make it to the league. I work hard enough for that, but I won’t be a number one draft pick and I won’t get any media attention that doesn’t include mention of my father, the first Diesel Knox.
“You’ll get to know her after tonight,” Jesse says. “I need you to look after her tonight.”
“No can do. I have plans to jack off tonight.”
“Dude, she’s a vulnerable freshman,” Jesse says, desperate to appeal to a better nature he’s convinced that I have against all reason. “She needs help.”
“Why can’t you help her? Since you have a sex thing with black chicks, why not have two of them?”
“You are such a dick.”
“What the fuck did I say?”
Jesse was never chill about this type of stuff, but he acts like he’s in love with Peyton when he doesn’t even know the chick. Guys like Jesse are the reason the word “simp” was invented. Yup, that describes my best friend perfectly.
“Peyton isn’t a sex thing and her friend needs you. I told Peyton she wasn’t your type.”
“Is she my type?”
“She’s black, Diesel. I think we both know the answer to that question.”
Jesse makes a lot of assumptions about me because I hassle him once in a while for the thing with Peyton. Dude has issues where he can’t take a joke when it comes to women.
“That doesn’t mean she isn’t my type. How are the tits?”
“Fuck, Diesel, she’s my girlfriend’s best friend. I don’t look at her tits. She’s also a bigger girl.”
“What, you mean tall?”
“No, Diesel. I don’t mean tall,” Jesse responds. He sounds a little pissed off, although he doesn’t have the right to be.
“Oh… You mean one of those freak clits.”
“No, Diesel. I mean… She’s got curves.”
“Tits and ass.”
I nod approvingly. Finally, Jesse is speaking my language. I don’t know why he isn’t helping me out right now. Given everything happening with the chicks on campus, I need some serious TLC and relaxation. I want to put my feet up.
“And more…” Jesse says, trailing off. “Bro, I seriously don’t want to talk about this.”
“Holy shit. Double the tits and ass?”
Why isn’t he giving me details? What are her measurements? I need to know more. Jesse’s energy doesn’t match mine.
“Whatever, D.”
I shut up because Jesse sounds like he’s gonna kick my ass. Probably for the best if I keep quiet and stop that from happening.
Jesse heads into the motel and I sit in the driver’s seat waiting for him to emerge with his runaway girlfriend. Jesse is a weirdo. When girls walk out of my life, I let them go. I can’t imagine fighting for a chick the way he fights for Peyton. Bro is totally obsessed and possibly dangerously pussy-whipped.
I turn up the music in my truck. It’s been a sweet ride, but it hasn’t all been good memories. The last time I was in this truck, I had a bit of a break up with my situationships, and then got some bad news. Those shitty memories slam into me any time I get behind the wheel.
Normally, I would call my dad and sort this shit out. I could trade this thing in for a yellow Lotus. That would be sick. But my life is basically over. At twenty-one, I’ll finally understand the meaning of true poverty.
If I want access to my trust fund, I have to get a chick pregnant.
It’s so heavy that it hurts. I turn up Look at Me! by XXXTENTACION and lean my seat back. Total bullshit. I run my hand over the steering wheel. Could I really do it? Knock some chick up, use the pregnancy test to get access to my trust fund… and then what?
Maybe it would be easier to just call my grandfather. I glance at my watch. It’s eight o’clock in the evening in Texas, right after his evening squash game with the CEO of Milton Oil. It’s now or never. Poppy answers after two rings.
“Good evening, Diesel. How are you?”
“Doing great, Poppy. How’s it going over there? Settling down for the night with some Jack Daniels?”
“Ha,” he responds with a grunt. “No. Not tonight. What do you want? It’s not like you to call.”
“Nothing in particular. Just wanted to see how you were doing.”
I don’t know why I bother lying to Poppy. Dad probably warned him that I would call him, which means I have to maneuver this situation carefully.
“I doubt that.”
“C’mon, Poppy. I’m not as bad as my dad, am I? I called last week and didn’t ask for anything.”
“That’s true.”
This is as close as I’ll get to permission to ask my grandfather for money. So I do. Even if I know what he’s going to say before I open my mouth.
“I need to pay my tuition, Poppy. I don’t want to have a kid.”
“Too damn bad.”
“It isn’t 1960 anymore. Women are crazy. I can’t knock up one of the chicks at my school.”
“Why not? I met your grandmother when I was in college.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from pointing out that she was fifteen and still in high-school when my grandfather was in college and that my grandma’s parents forced her onto him because of the money.
“Have you been on the internet lately, Poppy? I’m working hard on something here. I don’t want some chick to take it away.”
“Family is important, Diesel.”
“We’re not talking about family. I don’t even have a girlfriend.”
“There’s only one way for a man to get a family.”
And what would be the point of that? My dad had a family, but it didn’t make him a better person. Family never got him to stop cheating or gambling. Family never made him give a shit about anyone other than himself. I guess my problem is that we’re too similar.
I’m sure I’m doing a crap job at hiding my frustrations from Poppy. Not like he gives a shit.
“What way is that? Because I have to pay tuition for next semester in a few weeks.”
“A man has to make his family, Diesel.”
I wish I could challenge that old Texan to an old-fashioned gun duel. But he’s the keeper of the keys. The family patriarch. He’s my past and my future rolled into one tragic person.
“So the answer is no.”
“The answer is exactly what I told your father.”
We talk about his squash game for the next twenty minutes. He does most of the talking. Then, he asks me about hockey. I avoid mentioning the drama at school and focus on my game. Poppy reminds me how much better at the game dad was at my age and then he gets another phone call and hangs up. I’m normally relieved when I get off the phone with him, but this time, my emotions are a hell of a lot more complicated.
Jesse finally appears from the motel entrance with his arm wrapped around Peyton and a short, chubby girl trotting behind them wearing high heels. Why the hell is she wearing high heels in a motel? I can’t help but smirk as she throws her hands up dramatically and then whips long black tresses of slightly wavy black hair out of her face.
Damn. They get closer and I can get a better look at the girl approaching my truck. Jesse was right – she’s totally not my type.
The chick flings open the passenger seat of my truck and hops in.
“I don’t care what anyone says. I’m calling shotgun.”
I look at her bewildered and speechless.
“I’m Mona by the way. Nice to meet you. I guess.”
“Diesel. Diesel Knox.”
She scoffs.
“I know who you are, Diesel,” Mona responds sassily. “You have quite the reputation.”
⚡️ PAPERBACK GIVEAWAY ⚡️
In this month’s post, I will be including a signed paperback giveaway of Varsity Surrogate open to ALL commenters residing in the United States of America (US Only).
To enter, all you have to do is leave a comment about the chapter. On November 1st 2023, I will choose a winner and reach out to you so I can send you a signed paperback copy of Varsity Possession.
Congratulations to Quin for winning this giveaway!
I will update this post with the winner’s first/given name here publicly on December 6th. If you don’t respond within 48 hours to my reach out email, I will select another winner!
Comment anything you would like, but here are some suggestions/prompts…
Do you want to read Chapter #2?
What do you think will happen next?
Thanks again for reading! 💞
Here’s the link to the rest of the series: https://bit.ly/mcgrawminotaurs
Do you want to just get a text update when my new bwwm romance book releases? It’s free to sign up for the updates AND you get a free book. You can wait until January to buy the book.