“I want your sperm.”
Those were Shelby Grant’s first words to me. Didn’t even want me to buy her a drink first. See, Shelby isn’t like other women. After researching Denver’s most eligible bachelors in search of her ideal sperm donor, she chose me.
As a pro hockey player, I’m used to women wanting things from me, but my swimmers? That’s a new one. Somehow, though, with her color-coded parenting plan, sales pitch and contract, Shelby sells me on the idea. After my donation, she doesn’t want anything more to do with me.
I can’t seem to stay away, though. As her belly grows and I get to know the tightly wound mom-to-be, I get attached.
Shelby’s jaded about men and I’m not looking to settle down. There are countless reasons why crossing the contractual line between us is a bad idea.
But once Shelby gives birth to our child, all bets are off. Whether I planned for it or not, I have a family now, and I’m not letting go without a fight.