Praise for Jacquie Biggar
Crazy Little Thing Called Love
A touching, heartwarming story that takes your breath away.
Characters that will have you feeling so many emotions. It deals with family, misunderstandings, ranch life, horses, life long love and of course Pumpkin the cat.
Tony and Sophia’s story had me laughing, crying and a bit frustrated with them at times. To me that is good writing when I can be moved to so many emotions while reading . The story is so good, I couldn’t put it down.
B
With This Heart
Such a sweet heartwarming romance about second chance love between two people who are obviously meant to be together. You won’t want to put this story down until you’re finished reading.
This is a wonderful series. Those of you who love military romance, wounded warrior romance and romantic suspense will love the stories written by this super talented, fabulous author!
Tammy
Maggie’s Revenge
The first comment I can easily make here is: MAGGIE'S REVENGE punched my 'WOW' button!
Magdalena Holt goes rogue and deep undercover for the DEA... Fast forward: > Olga, a once teenage prostitute, and four others are captured by 'sex traffickers', put in a 'mud pit' basement. After several attempts, beatings, torture, and a lot of action, the group of five make their escape...
The suspense is staggering as 'Maggie' and her tattered and broken group valiantly withstand the vagaries of the Mexican compound and hell-hole, escape, and then await the DEA to recover them. Maggie wants to get home and bring down the most evil man she has ever known...a criminal and terrifying clown named Chenglei.
The romantic component in this exciting novel involves Maggie's partner and agency member, Adam O'Connor, who the boss fears will jeopardize rescue efforts because he is 'too close' - with his feelings for Maggie.
MAGGIE'S REVENGE is masterfully written and a 'must read' for the 'mystery and suspense' book lovers! The novel would also make a great movie! It's been a while since I've seen this 'theme' in movies...of course, I only watch an occasional TV movie.
Julie Gehrandt
Skating on Thin Ice
The Men of WarHawks- Book 1
Jacquie Biggar
Wavefront Publishing
Copyright © 2019 by Jacquie Biggar
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.
Created with Vellum
As a proud Canadian, I would like to dedicate this book to our hockey heroes- past and present.
Hockey is not a one-man show; it's a team effort. If you don't work as a team - even if one or two guys aren't working - you're not going to win. That's the way it is.
Guy Lafleur
Contents
Introduction
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Preview Tempted by Mr. Wrong
Free Download!
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Jacquie Biggar
Introduction
Will a killer accomplish the greatest hat trick of his career?
Sam Walters has made a deal with the devil. In order to win a much-needed contract as physical therapist to one of the NHL's leading hockey teams, she must delay the recovery of their sniper, Mac Wanowski. The trouble is, the more she gets to know the taciturn hockey player, the more she aches to help him.
Mac 'The Hammer' Wanowski has chased the Stanley Cup dream for too many years. Last time he was close it cost him his wife. As injuries continue to plague the team, Mac works to catch a killer and keep the woman he's come to love from the hands of a madman.
Hockey can be a dangerous sport, especially when millions of dollars are at stake.
Preface
Sam removed a full container of eggs, a tomato, an onion, a bright yellow banana pepper, and a block of cheddar cheese from the refrigerator and used her butt to close the door. She juggled her armload past the cat and dumped it on the granite countertop. “Okay, Cleo, your turn.” She stooped to scratch her between the ears, then returned to the fridge. “Does Dad give you milk, hmm?” The carton was in the door, the seal broken, so she gave it a sniff before deigning it good enough for her new four-footed friend. A quick search of the pantry later and Cleo the cat was daintily eating her dinner, ears flicking at every little sound.
Sam frowned. How long did it take to start a fire? Maybe Mac was taking his time so she’d do the cooking. Not happening. She wandered down the hall, expecting to see him relaxed on the sofa—instead, the fire was little more than a flicker and the room was empty.
Puzzled, she was about to leave the room when a glimmer of light caught her attention. She moved closer to the bay window and hugged herself against the draft coming off the glass. What is that? She leaned forward, squinting through the swirling snow into the pitch-black night. There. There it was again. It almost looked like…
A fire.
Her heart catapulted into her throat as her brain caught up to her eyes. Horror stories of vast tracts of forest going up in smoke fueled her fear. What could she do? The phone. Hurry, hurry, call for help. She scrambled to the handset thrown carelessly onto the sofa and dialed the emergency number, her fingers trembling with nerves.
“Come on, come on,” she chanted under her breath, but no amount of wishing could get the phone to connect. The storm must be playing havoc with the lines. Another glance out the window showed the lick of flames climbing up the outer wall of the garage Mac had pointed out earlier.
Mac. He must have spotted the blaze, as she had, and rushed outside to put out the fire. He would need help. Giving up on getting through, Sam dropped the phone and raced for the kitchen. She’d noticed a fire extinguisher in the pantry while searching for Cleo’s food. Yes, there it was, tucked into a corner and hooked to the wall. She wasted precious seconds figuring out how to undo the clasp before hefting the surprisingly heavy canister into her arms and racing for the door.
A noxious stench of gas and rubber permeated the air. Thick black plumes of smoke drifted above the dark outline of the trees, obscene against the virgin white of the snow.
“Mac,” Sam yelled, shocked by the strength of the fire. The heat slapped her chilled skin and she realized she’d run out of the house without a jacket. No time to change that now, the sliding doors of the garage were totally engulfed, and the hungry flames were eating their way to the only other exit�
��the side door. She had to do something.
She pointed the canister at the door and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Vibrating, she looked at the stupid canister. Why had she never taken the time to learn how to use these blasted things? Just as she was about to fling it across the yard, she noticed a ring sticking sideways from the top of the handle. She jerked the pin out and aimed again, and this time a thin spray of foam exploded from the rubber hose. The fire hissed, angry at the creature seeking to destroy its fun. But it knew it would loose against this foe, and baring orange-red fangs, leaped to the roof in a bright burst of sparks.
Relieved, Sam yanked the door open, wincing when the knob burned her palm, and stepped inside. She covered her mouth against the smoke sneaking in through the cracks and gazed nervously around the packed room. The dark outline of a truck ghosted out of the gloom. Hoping against hope, Sam edged her way between ATV’s and skidoos, keeping low to avoid the haze creeping down from the ceiling. “Mac,” she choked. Where was he?
1
Mac Wanowski was having the best night of his hockey career. Two goals and three assists with a period and a half to go. Everything was going their way. He should be a shoo-in for MVP. The Victoria WarHawks were playing on home turf to a full stadium of rowdy fans with fast ice—nothing could stop him now.
The blow came out of nowhere.
One minute he was flying down the ice with the puck held in the sweet spot of his stick, the crowd roaring his name, the net in sight, in the next instant Mac was shoved from behind and smacked into the boards. He bounced and went down hard on his right knee. The pain was immediate and intense. It sucked the breath from his lungs and left him seeing stars. He dropped his head between his arms and tried to remain conscious until the medics arrived. It was small consolation the refs caught the illegal move and rang the penalty buzzer.
Fricking Murtagh.
The other team’s enforcer liked to pull sneak attacks. He’d done it before. Mac rolled onto his back and blinked as the auditorium swam before his eyes.
“Wow, man, that had to hurt.” Samson chortled, skidding to a stop against the boards. The plexi-glass shook with the collision.
Edwards, the team’s doctor skated across the ice in his dress shoes and dropped to his side. “Hey, Hammer, nice hit. How you doing?”
“Been better,” Mac grumbled. He squinted through the face-shield and yanked off his gloves. “It’s the knee, Doc. Screwed it good this time.” The helmet came next, clattering onto the ice along with his dreams.
“Don’t worry. He will pay.” Lazlo, the grinder, towered over Mac glaring at the other team as though daring them to come near.
“Keep it clean, boys,” the ref said, gliding up to pat the Croatian’s arm. “I don’t wanna send you to the bench, but I will.” He exchanged a look with the doc, then blew his whistle and waved an arm over his head. “Gurney’s on the way.”
Mac growled and tried to sit up, but Edwards forced him down. The guy might be old but working around a bunch of hockey players kept him in shape. “Take it easy, Mac. It’s just a precaution. You don’t want to aggravate that tendon any more than you need to.”
Getting hauled off the ice like an invalid only added insult to injury. Not even the crowd’s support could ease his wrath against the meathead who’d taken him down. He strained to see past the EMT’s hold on the gurney. Murtagh sat in the penalty box, his arrogant gaze triumphant even as his coach tore him a new asshole from over his shoulder.
Pissed, Mac pointed and mouthed, “You’re mine.” Then they were in the hallway heading toward the dressing room and his adrenaline waned, leaving him drawn and listless. The knee throbbed, pressing uncomfortably against his protective padding. His shoulder ached from smashing into the wall and his insides jiggled like a bowl full of jelly. But if Doc gave him the go-ahead he could still make the third period. He needed to get out there and support his team, dammit.
Coach was waiting when he arrived, pacing and muttering while running a hand over his thinning pate. The second the EMTs set him down on the exam table Coach was breathing in his face.
“What the hell, Wanowski? I told you to pass! This superhero complex of yours is costing the team. Now what are we supposed to do, huh? We’re already two men down and play-offs are coming up. Your actions tonight might have cost us the season. How do you feel now, asshole?”
Like shit, thanks for asking. The man had it in for him ever since Mac hooked up with his daughter for one never-to-be-repeated night, and nothing he did for the team was enough. It bothered him that this time Coach was right—he’d screwed up. Not that he could admit it, especially with all the interested ears wagging in the room. So, he said nothing.
The coach threw up his hands and stormed out of the room, heading back to what was left of the game. Mac just hoped they could retain their five-three lead until it ended.
“You like playing with fire, don’t ya?” Doc Edwards shook his head. “Your contract is almost up with the WarHawks, Mac. Have you given any thought to what comes next?”
Mac frowned at the doc’s back as he turned away to open his medical bag. “You hear something you want to tell me about?” He’d given three of his best years to this team. If the franchise planned to trade him off, the least they could do was tell him to his face.
Doc held up his hand. “Don’t get your shorts in a knot, kid. I merely meant you can’t play hockey forever. You must have a backup plan, right?’
Kid. Mac grunted as the other man loosened the ties on his knee guard. The resulting relief was quickly replaced by agony as blood rushed to the injury. He clenched his fists against the cool metal of the exam table and stared at the ceiling with its ugly track lighting while Doc poked and prodded the area like a sadist.
No, he didn’t have a backup plan—this was it for him. Hockey was in his blood. It fed his dark soul and gave him the only true joy he’d ever known.
He couldn’t leave the game.
“How bad, Doc?” He tipped his head to look down the length of his body and swore. Just as he’d thought, the knee was swollen and already showing signs of bruising. Last time he’d injured it, he’d ended up with water under the kneecap and had to have it drained. Fun times.
Edwards snapped an ice pack into action and set it against his skin before meeting his worried gaze. “I won’t know for sure until we do x-rays. My best guess is your ACL.” Mac winced. “Hopefully it’s a sprain instead of a full tear which would mean surgery and months of rehab.”
Christ, just what he didn’t need right now. He laid down and covered his eyes with his forearm. “And if it’s a sprain?”
“Sorry, Mac. You’re still looking at two-to-four weeks recovery time, physio, and preferably crutches. I know someone, Sam Walters, who’s good at this sort of injury. I’ll call and see what I can get lined up.”
Mac let him drone on with his voice of doom, meanwhile inside his stomach twisted into their own disastrous knots.
What was he going to do now?
2
Sam pushed her prescription sunglasses onto her nose and squinted against the blinding white of the snow. It was one of those picture postcard days; you know, the type where the beautiful couple are caught kissing in front of the adorable snowman they’ve just built. He’s holding her like he doesn’t plan to let go, and she’s laughing, head thrown back to show off long, blond locks. Except, in Sam’s case her hair leaned more toward strawberry-blond, and the only beautiful person nearby was the famous NHL hockey player she was about to meet—and he wasn’t her type.
Mac Wanowski. The Victoria Warhawks not-so-secret weapon. The Hammer, as sports reporters loved to label him, had brought a floundering team to the playoffs two straight years in a row and they were looking good in the standings this season, too. Her uncle, the team’s physician, had stressed the importance of getting Wanowski back to work as soon as possible. Like yesterday.
She looked up at the grim-faced warrior who waited impatiently on the f
ront porch of a cabin set into a tall stand of evergreens, their tips reaching up to touch the cornflower blue sky. He leaned on a set of crutches, a baggy pair of sports shorts doing nothing to hide the man’s masculinity. An unwelcome shiver of awareness fox-trotted up her spine. He was every bit as handsome as the internet depicted him. Not that she was a stalker, or anything. It was research. She needed to know what she was facing.
Trouble. With a capital T.
“I expected something… bigger,” she murmured, dismayed. The mountain cabin was modest at best. She was supposed to spend two weeks here? There must be a mistake. She turned accusing eyes on her uncle, but he was already climbing out from behind the driver’s wheel to stretch.
“Nice place,” she heard him call. “No wonder you keep it a secret.” He leaned down to see what was keeping her. “Coming?”
Did she have a choice?
Sighing, Sam climbed out of the old sedan her uncle refused to trade in and joined him at the trunk. She hefted the heavier case before he could, leaving him the overnight bag. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Skating on Thin Ice: The Men of WarHawks- Book 1 Page 1