Charging (Gold Hockey Book 10)
Page 23
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Slowly, she spun back, eyes wide.
“That was my question,” he said when she just stared at him in shock.
A slow shake of her head.
He smiled.
And she actually felt her brain cells collide and fizzle into smoke. That smile was dangerous, could without a doubt, turn her stupid. Really stupid.
“Good,” he murmured. Swallowing hard, she nodded, turned away again.
“Will you go out with me?”
Her fingers went limp. The tablets hit the ground.
This time the crunch sounded much more ominous.
Or maybe that was just her heart.
Baltimore Breakers
Baltimore Breakers
Broken
Book 1
Coming May 24, 2021
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Luc
He was forty years old.
He was single.
He was happy that way.
Sighing, he lifted his beer to his lips and internally shook his head at himself. He wasn’t happy. He was miserable and lonely. Oh, and he might as well add fucking pathetic to that tally.
Because the woman he was in love with was married.
To a perfectly nice man who loved her and cared for her and treated her like the fucking queen she was.
But that didn’t help Luc or his loneliness problem.
So, he was drinking a beer, trying to forget the woman he’d fallen for two years before, only to find out she was married two weeks later. Lexi was with the legal team for the Baltimore Breakers, the NHL team he was the GM for. He’d fallen hard over her skills at contract negotiations, fallen harder when she’d proven to be whip-smart and hilarious in equal parts.
Then he’d run into her and her husband while grabbing a cup of coffee.
“Luc,” she’d said, smiling up at him, its intensity punching him right in the gut, “this is my husband, Caleb.”
Caleb?
What kind of name was that?
“Fucking hell,” Luc muttered, taking another sip, hating the other man, and yet respecting him, because there was love there.
Deeply rooted love that spoke of a happy relationship.
He hated it.
Cue lonely, pathetic asshole.
Sighing, he stood up and turned toward his front door, reaching for the handle when he heard the screech of tires.
Spinning, he watched the car pull to a stop, the driver’s door open, and Lexi tumble out.
He was running before he realized he’d moved, reaching her in seconds.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, noting the tears, the reddened eyes, the mascara blackening the skin beneath her eyes. “Lexi, are you hurt?”
She nodded, threw herself into his arms.
“Where, honey?” he asked. “Where?”
Lexi tore herself away, and the pain in her gaze shredded his insides. “It’s Caleb.”
—Preorder Now
Caged
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Gold Hockey Series
Blocked
Backhand
Boarding
Benched
Breakaway
Breakout
Checked
Coasting
Centered
Charging
Caged
Gold Hockey
Did you miss any of the Gold Hockey books?
Find information about the full series here.
Or keep reading for a sneak peek into each of the books below!
Blocked
Gold Hockey Book #1
Get your copy at books2read.com/Blocked
Brit
The first question Brit always got when people found out she played ice hockey was “Do you have all of your teeth?”
The second was “Do you, you know, look at the guys in the locker room?”
The first she could deal with easily—flash a smile of her full set of chompers, no gaps in sight. The second was more problematic. Especially since it was typically accompanied by a smug smile or a coy wink.
Of course she looked. Everybody looked once. Everyone snuck a glance, made a judgment that was quickly filed away and shoved deep down into the recesses of their mind.
And she meant way down.
Because, dammit, she was there to play hockey, not assess her teammates’ six packs. If she wanted to get her man candy fix, she could just go on social media. There were shirtless guys for days filling her feed.
But that wasn’t the answer the media wanted.
Who cared about locker room dynamics? Who gave a damn whether or not she, as a typical heterosexual woman, found her fellow players attractive?
Yet for some inane reason, it did matter to people.
Brit wasn’t stupid. The press wanted a story. A scandal. They were desperate for her to fall for one of her teammates—or better yet the captain from their rival team—and have an affair that was worthy of a romantic comedy.
She’d just gotten very good at keeping her love life—as nonexistent as it was—to herself, gotten very good at not reacting in any perceptible way to the insinuations.
So when the reporter asked her the same set of questions for the thousandth time in her twenty-six years, she grinned—showing off those teeth—and commented with a sweetly innocent “Could’ve sworn you were going to ask me about the coed showers.” She waited for the room-at-large to laugh then said, “Next question, please.”
–Blocked, books2read.com/Blocked
Backhand
Gold Hockey Book #2
Get your copy at books2read.com/Backhand
Sara
“Sorry I messed up your sketch,” he rumbled.
She nibbled on the side of her mouth, biting back a smile. “Sorry I stole your hand for so long.”
He shrugged. “My mom’s an artist. I get it.”
Well, there went her battle with the smile. Her lips twitched and her teeth came out of hiding. If there was one thing that Sara had, it was her smile. It had been her trademark in her competition days.
Which were long over.
Her mouth flattened out, the grin slipping away. Time to go, time to forget, to move on, to rebuild. “Thanks,” she said and extended a hand.
Then winced and dropped it when her ribs cried out in protest.
“You okay?” he asked, head tilting, eyes studying her.
“Fine.” And out popped her new smile. The fake one. Careful of her aching side, she shrugged into her backpack. “I’ve got to go.” She turned, ponytail flapping through the hair to land on her opposite shoulder.
“That—” He touched her arm. “Wait. I know I know you.”
She froze. That was the second time he’d said that, and now they were getting into dangerous territory. Recognition meant . . . no. She couldn’t.
There had been a time when everyone had known her. Her face on Wheaties boxes, her smile promoting toothpaste and credit cards alike.
That wasn’t her life any longer.
“Thanks again. Bye.” She started to hurry away.
“Wait.” A hand dropped on to her shoulder, thwarting her escape, and she hissed in pain.
“Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t release her. Instead, he shifted his grip from her aching shoulder down to her elbow and when she didn’t protest, he exerted gentle pressure until Sara was facing him again. “It’s just that know I know you.”
No. This wasn’t happening.
“You’re Sara Jetty.”
Her body went tense.
Oh God. This was so happening.
“It’s me.” He touched his chest like she didn’t know he was talking abou
t himself, and even as she was finally recognizing the color of his eyes, the familiar curve of his lips and line of his jaw, he said the worst thing ever, “Mike Stewart.”
Oh shit.
—Backhand, books2read.com/Backhand
Boarding
Gold Hockey Book #3
Get your copy at books2read.com/Boarding
Mandy
Hockey players had the best asses.
No pancake bottoms, these men—and women—could fill out a pair of jeans. She wanted to squeeze it, to nibble it, bounce a dime—
Mandy dropped her chin to her chest, losing sight of the Sorting Hat cupcakes she’d been pondering.
Blane with his yummy ass had a unique way of distracting her.
No, it wasn’t even distraction, per se. He had always been able to get under her skin.
And that was very, very bad for her.
“Ugh,” she said, tossing her phone onto her desk and standing, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to sit still now.
Nope, she needed about forty laps in the pool and a good hard fu—
Run, her mind blurted, almost yelling at the mental voice of her inner devil. A good hard run.
Unfortunately, the cajoling tone wasn’t completely drowned out. Some sexy horizontal time with Blane would be more fun—
But the rest of the enticing words were lost as the roar of the crowd suddenly penetrated through the layers of concrete. Her stomach twisted. Mandy could tell, even before her eyes made it to the television, that it wasn’t in celebration of a goal or a good hit either.
This was fury, a collective of outrage.
She was on her feet the moment she saw the prone form lying so still face down on the ice.
Her gut twisted when she spotted the curving line of a numeral two on the back of the player’s jersey.
“Not him,” she said and the words were familiar, a sentiment she had whispered, had prayed a thousand times before. She needed the camera angle to shift, for her to be able to see more clearly who was hurt. “Not him.”
Then Dr. Carter was on the ice and the player moved slightly, rolling away from the camera, giving a full shot of his back and the matching twos adorning his jersey.
Fuck. Not him. Not Blane.
And that was when she saw the pool of blood.
—Boarding, books2read.com/Boarding
Benched
Gold Hockey Book #4
Get your copy at books2read.com/Benched
Max
He started up the car, listening and chiming in at the right places as Brayden talked all things video game.
But his mind was unfortunately stuck on the fact that women were not to be trusted.
He snorted. Brit—the Gold’s goalie and the first female in the NHL—and Mandy—the team’s head trainer—would smack him around for that sentiment, so he silently amended it to: most women were not to be trusted.
There. Better, see?
Somehow, he didn’t think they’d see.
He parked in the school’s lot, walked Brayden in, and received the appropriate amount of scorn from the secretary for being thirty minutes late to school, then bent to hug Brayden.
“I’ll pick you up today,” he said.
Brayden smiled and hugged him tightly. Then he whispered something in his ear that hit Max harder than a two-by-four to the temple.
“If you got me a new mom, we wouldn’t be late for school.”
“Wh-what?” Max stammered.
“Please, Dad? Can you?”
And with that mind fuck of an ask, Brayden gave him one more squeeze and pushed through the door to the playground, calling, “Love you!” over his shoulder.
Then he was gone, and Max was standing in the office of his son’s school struggling to comprehend if he had actually just heard what he’d heard.
A new mom?
Fuck his life.
—Benched, books2read.com/Benched
Breakaway
Gold Hockey Book #5
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Blue
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Try not to go out and get a fresh bimbo to ride tonight. I hear STIs on are the rise in the city.”
Blue sighed, turned back to face her. “Really?”
She shrugged, smirk teasing the edges of her mouth, drawing his focus to the lushness of her lips. “Just watching out for Max’s teammate.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not hardly.”
“Okay, how about I’m trying to prevent you from spreading STIs to the female populace.”
“I’m clean, and I’m smart,” he told her. “Condoms all the way.”
“Ew.”
Except there was something about the way she said it that made Blue stiffen and take notice. Because . . . he stared into her eyes, watched as the pale blue darkened to royal, saw her lips part, and her suck in a breath.
Holy shit.
“You’re attracted to me.”
Her jaw dropped. “No fucking way,” she said, too quickly, pink dancing on the edges of her cheekbones. “You’re delusional.”
Blue got close.
Real close.
Anna licked her lips.
And fuck it all, he kissed that luscious mouth.
—Breakaway, www.books2read.com/BreakawayGold
Breakout
Gold Hockey Book #6
Get your copy at books2read.com/Breakout
PR-Rebecca
“You should go have your turn.”
“I’ll get mine,” he said with another shrug.
She frowned, honestly confused. “You don’t want—”
Suddenly he was in front of her on the bench, towering over her even though she was wearing her four-inch power heels. “You know what I want?”
Rebecca couldn’t speak. Her breath had whooshed out of her in the presence of all that sweaty, hockey god-ness. Fuck he was pretty and gorgeous and . . . so fucking masculine that her thighs actually clenched together.
She wanted to climb him like a stripper pole.
“Do you?” he asked again when her words wouldn’t come. “Want to know what I want?”
She nodded.
He bent, lips to her ear. “You, babe,” he whispered. “I. Want. You.”
Then he straightened and jumped back onto the ice, leaving her gaping after him like she had less than two brain cells in her skull.
The worst part?
She wanted him, too.
Had wanted him since the moment she’d laid eyes on the sexy as sin hockey god.
“Trouble,” she murmured. “I’m in so much fucking trouble.”
—Breakout, www.books2read.com/Breakout
Checked
Gold Hockey Book #7
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“You’re leaving,” he said.
Nope. Not doing this.
Ignoring him, Rebecca turned and started for her car. She’d purposely parked it where she wouldn’t be blocked in.
Girl scout, she was. Always planning ahead.
Always running.
“Rebecca.”
She kept walking.
She might work with Gabe, but she sure as heck wasn’t on speaking terms with him. He’d dismissed her work, ignored her contribution to the team. He’d made her feel small and unimportant and—
She’d had too much of that in her life already.
So she kept walking.
“Rebecca.”
Not happening. Her car was in sight, thank fuck. She reached for the handle, glad her new car’s locks opened automatically when the key fob was near.
He caught her arm.
“Baby—”
“I am not your baby, and you don’t get to touch me.” She ripped herself free, began muttering as she reached for the handle of her car again. “You don’t even like me.”
He stepped close, real close. Not touching her, not pushing the boundary she’d set, and yet he still got really frea
king close. Her breath caught, her chin lifted, her pulse picked up. “That. Is. Where. You’re. Wrong.”
She froze.
“What?”
His mouth dropped to her ear, still not touching, but near enough that she could feel his hot breath.
“I like you, Rebecca. Too fucking much.”
Then he turned and strode away.
—Checked, www.books2read.com/Checked
Coasting
Gold Hockey Book #8
Get your copy at books2read.com/Coasting
Coop
Without thinking, he caught her arm.
“You’re not okay.”
She shuddered to a stop when he touched her, not fighting the grip, chin dropping to her chest. “No,” she said, “you’re right. I’m not okay.”
“Who was on the phone?” he asked gently.
Her jaw went tight. “My ex.”
Fury blazed through him. “Did he hurt you?” he growled.
A shake of her head. “Not like you’re thinking.” She sucked in a breath. “He broke my heart.”
Coop’s own heart gave a twinge. “I’m sorry, Calle. That’s—”
“Fucking stupid.” Another tear joined the first, dripping down the pale skin of her cheek.
“It’s not stupid to have loved someone,” he said gently.
Her eyes went fierce. “It’s incredibly stupid when the person who supposedly loves you right back doesn’t give a damn that you’re pregnant.”
His jaw fell open. He knew it did.
But Calle? Even, gentle Calle had gotten knocked up and—
“Yup,” she said, brushing by him. “See? Really fucking stupid.”