by: Taryn Leigh Taylor
Series: Montana Wolfpack
Genre: Contemporary Sports Romance
Release Date: September 10, 2018
Publisher: Entangled Publishing ~ Brazen
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If you don’t shoot, you don’t score.
Hockey star Brett Sillinger's never been afraid of a little trouble. But when his personal life ends up in the tabloids, he knows his career is on thin ice. Luckily, a new team decides to take a chance on him. All he has to do is keep head in the game. But when temptation walks up wearing black knee-high boots, looking for one night of nameless, no-strings passion, well, what's a guy to do?
Chelsea London is looking to misbehave. What's being good ever gotten her, besides getting dumped and passed over for a big promotion at work? But her one delicious night of rebellion has unexpected consequences--her hot one-night stand is the latest addition to her father's hockey team. And suddenly, one night of bad-girldom isn't nearly enough.
But one false move, and Brett might spend this season in the penalty box...
"What’s your name?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but those expressive eyes of hers slid over the length of him and she changed her mind. “No names,” she decided, igniting fire along Brett's nerve endings.
He was beginning to like what that might mean for the rest of his night. “Okay, Red. No names.”
That little frown again. “Red?” she asked, obviously confused at the nickname, completely oblivious that all he wanted in life right now was to pull that sweater off her and dissolve the scarlet lace that covered her breasts with his tongue.
“Like Little Red Riding Hood?”
“Kinda like that,” he averred.
She sent him a sidelong glance. “Does that make you the big bad wolf?”
Brett rasped a hand across his stubbly jaw in contemplation. “Depends. You looking for someone to huff...”
She swallowed, and the delicate muscles of her neck mesmerized him.
“...and puff...”
She bit her lip, and his world narrowed to her mouth.
“...and blow your house down?”
God, she was pretty when she blushed.
“Wrong fairy tale,” she corrected in a soft, breathy voice that made him want to knock the air out of her lungs again.
And again. Until she screamed with pleasure.
Brett leaned closer to her. “Doesn’t have to be.”
She opened her mouth to answer, but those expressive eyes of hers slid over the length of him and she changed her mind. “No names,” she decided, igniting fire along Brett's nerve endings.
He was beginning to like what that might mean for the rest of his night. “Okay, Red. No names.”
That little frown again. “Red?” she asked, obviously confused at the nickname, completely oblivious that all he wanted in life right now was to pull that sweater off her and dissolve the scarlet lace that covered her breasts with his tongue.
“Like Little Red Riding Hood?”
“Kinda like that,” he averred.
She sent him a sidelong glance. “Does that make you the big bad wolf?”
Brett rasped a hand across his stubbly jaw in contemplation. “Depends. You looking for someone to huff...”
She swallowed, and the delicate muscles of her neck mesmerized him.
“...and puff...”
She bit her lip, and his world narrowed to her mouth.
“...and blow your house down?”
God, she was pretty when she blushed.
“Wrong fairy tale,” she corrected in a soft, breathy voice that made him want to knock the air out of her lungs again.
And again. Until she screamed with pleasure.
Brett leaned closer to her. “Doesn’t have to be.”
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She shamelessly indulges in cliches, most notably her Starbucks addiction (grande-six-pump-whole-milk-no-water chai tea latte, aka: the usual), her shoe hoard (I can stop anytime I...ooh! These are pretty!), and her penchant for falling in lust with fictional men with great abs (Roarke, Harvey Specter, Kid Chaos, Dean Winchester, and so on, ad infinitum.)
She also really loves books, which is what sent her down the crazy path of writing one in the first place.
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