Series: Chicago Blaze #7
Publication date: September 22nd, 2020
Synopsis:
Reyna
I don't do relationships. A federal agent whose life revolves around rescuing kidnapped children, I've got no interest in catching any man who's not a criminal. So when my new assignment in Chicago requires me to get closer to a VIP Chicago Blaze fan, Blaze goalie Jonah West is the perfect cover. Like me, he's too focused on his career to make time for love, dates or even hookups.
Jonah
I had my great love, and I lost her. No woman will ever compare to the blond ray of sunshine who left me half a man three years ago. And even though I help out my police officer brother by pretending to be head over heels for Reyna, it's just a farce to put an evil man behind bars. Reyna is a fierce, raven-haired cop with steely eyes and a foul mouth--not my type in the slightest. But when lines get blurred, my fake feelings for Reyna become more real than anything I thought my beat-up heart could ever feel again.
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Excerpts
When it's my turn, everyone turns to watch me shoot.
"He couldn't score in a whorehouse with a hundred bucks in his hand," Knox cracks.
I ignore him, skating from side to side with the puck. The other guys just fired from a stationary spot, but I need to handle it from an offensive standpoint a little bit before I shoot it.
As I skate closer to Vic, he crouches down and starts grumbling. "No, dude, no close range."
He's so focused on staying upright and protecting his junk that it's easy to slide one in on his left side. The guys all cheer and razz Vic even harder.
In the second round, the guys start firing at Vic three and four players at a time. He's got pucks bouncing off him all over the place. Then everyone lines up together and we all shoot at the same time. He gets hammered and ends up falling on his back, laughing.
"This'll be on YouTube within an hour," Knox says, holding up his cell phone, which he recorded the last shot with.
"Fuck all you fuckers," Vic says, pulling off the blocker and trapper I loaned him and dropped them on the ice.
"Don't just drop my trapper on the ice, prick," I call out to him, skating over to pick up my gloves. "It takes me forever to break these in, and I take care of them."
"Sorry, man," he says, skating to the bench and taking the rest of his gear off.
He's not sorry. I was right not to loan him my mask, which I had customized with red and orange airbrushed flames.
I shake my head and leave the ice, heading for the locker room. Once there, I shower, change into shorts and a T-shirt, and leave my gear for the equipment guys to take care of.
I'm walking out to my car while checking my phone and see that I have a missed call from my brother Logan. Once in my car, I push a button on the dash of my Tesla SUV to call him back.
"Hey, man," he says in answer.
"Hey, what's up?"
"I need a favor."
"More season tickets?"
"Nah, the four you got me are all I need."
"Okay, what is it?"
There's a pause before he says, "Uh... I was hoping we could talk about it in person."
"Fantastic," I deadpan. "Are you gonna ask me to donate an organ or something?"
"Nah, nothing painful."
The line goes quiet again and I say, "Okay, give me something. Whatever you need, you know I'll do it."
"I hope so." He clears his throat. "It's actually work related."
That perks my ears up, since Logan is a detective for the Chicago Police Department. "Oh. And it's something I can help with?"
"It's something I think only you can help with."
"Huh. I'm intrigued."
About the Author:
Brenda Rothert is an Illinois native who was a print journalist for nine years. She made the jump from fact to fiction in 2013 and never looked back. From new adult to steamy contemporary romance, Brenda creates fresh characters in every story she tells. She's a lover of Diet Coke, chocolate, lazy weekends and happily ever afters.
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