They call me the Bad*ss of Hockey. The Beast of the Northeast. And I’m not just referring to my stick play on the ice.
As captain for the Boston Blades, I’ve spent years working toward bringing home the Stanley Cup. But when the owners sell us out to Hollywood, suddenly we’re not just playing for thousands of fans, we’re cracking open our lives on Getting Pucked, a new reality show. They want all the dirty details, and I’d rather take a puck to the gonads than peel back the curtains on my life. Not when it could take me out of the game for good.
I agree to sign the contract on one condition: They hire New England’s reigning queen of media to call the shots. Holly Belliveaux Carter. The woman who drives me to insanity and turns me on with nothing but a quirk of her lips and the sound of her laugh. The only woman I’ve ever loved.
The problem? She’s my ex-wife.
Contains mature themes.