Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
As a member of the Pittsburgh Titans, I’m afforded a certain level of leniency in my behavior. The perks of being a celebrity, I suppose. But a run-in with my “one-night stand turned borderline stalker” has me crossing all sorts of lines with a beautiful but unsuspecting grocery store employee. When I surprise the complete stranger with a giant kiss and quiet plea to help a guy out, she not only plays along but gets my blood racing like I’ve never experienced before. Score one for Rafferty Abrams.
Temperence Martin isn’t just the stunning girl in the international foods aisle. Tempe is also a devoted daughter taking a break from college to help her mother as she heals from a serious accident. That includes making sure her younger brother stays on track with school and keeping everything running at home. To say she’s burning the candle at both ends is an understatement, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t see the spark in her eyes after our spontaneous make out session. That’s exactly what has me coming back for more, even if I use that pesky stalker as my excuse.
As we get to know one another, I realize a fake relationship just isn’t going to work. I want something other than a ruse, something real, and lucky for me, so does Tempe. But when my mistake of a hookup starts telling lies in retaliation for my alleged betrayal, things get messy. For me and for Tempe, who has found herself embroiled in a love triangle that doesn’t even exist. I can only hope Tempe isn’t scared away by the baggage I unintentionally brought to our relationship because the truth is, I saw my happily ever after with her the first time our lips met.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Rafferty
I’m yanking off my sweat-soaked jersey, reveling in the shakiness in my legs that tells me I worked my ass off. Practice today was a beast, and Coach wasn’t pulling any punches, especially after our too-close-for-comfort win over the Nashville Badgers. My muscles ache and I’m starving, again more signs of giving a hundred and ten percent to my team.
The locker room is alive with chatter, as it usually is. This group has developed such a camaraderie over the last two years since the original team was lost to a plane crash. Even though this is my first season with the Titans, I’ve become so immersed in the brotherhood of these men who share the ice with me, I can’t really imagine playing anywhere else ever again.
The low rumble of voices mixes with bursts of laughter—guys unwinding after being put through the wringer and happy like me to have had another successful practice. Everything is coming together for us this season and this team is the talk of the hockey world. I imagine the odds in Vegas are heavily in our favor of winning the championship at our current trajectory, but none of us look at stuff like that. Every day we put forth every bit of blood, sweat and tears to make ourselves the best hockey team we can be.
I lean back against my locker, towel draped over my head, trying to catch my breath. Atlas Karolak, our second-line left-winger, is recounting a moment from last night’s game.
“Seriously, man, you should’ve seen your face!” Atlas cackles, punching North lightly on the shoulder. North Paquette is his line mate and right-winger. “Thought you were about to take that puck to your grill.”
North rolls his eyes, grinning. “Yeah, right, as if I’d let that happen. My mom always said I had a face for cameras, not stitches.”
I chuckle, sliding the towel off my head and joining in the banter. “Better keep that pretty smile intact. We can’t all rock the rugged look like I do.”
Foster chimes in, nodding toward me. “Raff here doesn’t need any more scars. Aren’t a couple of them from your junior league fights?”
“Guilty as charged,” I admit, running a hand over a faint scar above my eyebrow—a memento from a fight that earned me more than just a few stitches but a story worth telling.
The laughter grows as we continue to rib each other, the camaraderie a stark contrast to the intensity on the ice. It’s moments like these that I remind myself why I love this sport, why I push through every punishing practice and game. It’s not just about the thrill of competition; it’s about these guys, this brotherhood.
After an ice bath for a sore knee and a shower, I pack up my gear slowly, not particularly eager to head out just yet. I love the atmosphere of this place and would just as soon be here than at my condo.