Publication date: November 21st, 2024
Synopsis:
When your grandmother stalks the star hockey player on the rival team because "You need a husband, Dakota--you're not getting any younger!" it's Christmas crazy on ice.
It is not, however, the start of our great love story.
I don't date guys on that team.
He doesn't do casual, drunken hookups, which is all the captain of the Icebreakers is getting from moi.
I give him the finger and tell him I hope he loses his teeth out there.
He smirks and wins the game because both this Christmas season and this hockey season are a fucking scam.
Then my younger, much dumber brother informs me that he owes his bookie a bunch of money and really needs the Icebreakers to lose their next game, and could I pretty please be an amazing big sis and date their captain then break his heart so he'll suck and lose the game--otherwise little bro will get killed, or worse, our mom will find out.
As much as I eye roll my overly large, overly loud family, I'd do anything for them.
Including date the captain of the Icebreakers.
Barf.
Ryder is a Boy Scout. He doesn't swear. He uses words like ma'am and sir. On our date, he opens my door, pulls out my chair, and helps me with my coat. He even volunteers at the local animal shelter and loves handmade sweaters.
No, it is not cute! Three warm, gooey cinnamon rolls dressed up as a six-five, hot AF hockey player are not my type.
At all.
Nope.
Santa better bring me something nice this Christmas for all my pain and suffering!
In bed though?
Let's just say sleeping with the captain of the Icebreakers... is not going to be a problem.
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Excerpt
Contrary to popular belief, I can admit when I'm wrong.
I was not the only girl who wanted the handsome hockey captain's attention. Half of the eligible and not-so-eligible women in Maplewood Falls had turned out. And they were dressed way better than me.
"You can't go in there. The team's practicing," one of the security guards barked when I tried to open the rink door by the locker rooms.
"I left my purse in there last night," I lied.
"Get it after practice."
Dammit. The things I do for my brother.
Maybe I should go home and change though.
The other girls were wearing skimpy outfits with platform stilettoes like it wasn't a million degrees below zero outside. Their hair and makeup were Instagram-model perfect. Meanwhile I was bundled in multiple sweaters and snow pants and was wearing yesterday's mascara. There was no way Ryder was going to compromise his morals or whatever for me.
The puck bunnies all snickered when I turned to leave.
"Hey!" a man yelled.
The puck bunnies went wild.
"Ryder!"
"I want to have your baby!"
The security guard shooed them away from the huge hockey player.
"Did you take over the stalking from your grandmother, Dakota?" a deep voice demanded.
Rolling my eyes, I turned back to him. "You disappointed that it was an eighty-year-old woman writing you notes about sticking things up your butt?"
"Are you always this foulmouthed?" The blue eyes narrowed.
Some of the girls had phones out, live streaming my terrible decision-making skills. Ryder noticed and grabbed my arm. My breath caught as he practically caried me inside the stadium.
The doors slammed behind us, and we stood in the foyer, which was newly decorated with Ryder's face and Icebreakers colors.
"Wow." I whistled. "So you're not only a prude, you're a narcissist too."
"Did you just roll out of bed and decide to insult me on your day off?"
"I remote work, buddy." I tried not to be intimidated being this close to him in the foyer that the architect really should have designed to be a lot bigger if all these men were going to be hanging around.
Ryder had just finished a hockey workout. His T-shirt was plastered against rippling muscles, his hair damp from a shower. Also why did he smell... not bad? Like, good. He smelled good, okay? He should smell like feet and gym socks not... like a winter forest.
"I'd hit that."
"What?" He recoiled.
"I said I'd hit that," I enunciated. "Yesterday I was like 'No way,' but I think I could put aside my absolute hatred of your team and fuck you."
"Don't use that word."
"Fuck," I said slowly. "I want to fuck you. Well, I want you to fuck me. But I will stick stuff up your butt if you really want me to."
His eyes widened in horror.
"Don't make that face. We should hook up."
"Get in line," he muttered then seemed shocked that he'd said it.
"Asshole," I said just to needle him.
He looked guilty, then he rallied. "You're the one who wants casual sex."
"Now you're slut-shaming me?" I shot at him, just to throw him off-balance.
"No!" He raised his hands defensively. "That not what I meant. That's--I'm not--women have a right to use their bodies how they want."
"And I want you to use mine how you want." I waggled my eyebrows at him.
"No, thank you! I'm not shaming you," he sputtered. "I just believe in being in a committed relationship before engaging in... before doing..."
"Fucking. You want to wait to fuck until you're married? What kind of hockey captain are you?" I demanded. "Where's the binge drinking, the blackout-drunk sex, the bar fights over women? Half those girls out there should be preggo by now."
"I am not like that." He turned on me, blue eyes going dark. "I don't treat people like objects. Lots of players use hockey as an excuse to behave badly, to put aside their morals. I don't, and I'm offended that you're insinuating that I do."
"I'm not calling you immoral. I'm just calling you an uptight fucking Boy Scout."
"I'm not that uptight. I just think people should be exclusive and at least know each other's names. Maybe go on a date first? Old-fashioned, I know."
"Barf."
"Better than not being marriage material," he shot back.
"Go to hell." I flipped off Ryder O'Connell for the second time in twenty-four hours.
I'd have to find a different way to save my brother.
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