“I have more to my speech.”
My lips turned up. “I have no doubt that it was about to turn dirty.”
Dancing brown eyes. “How did you know?”
A shake of my head, a brush of my lips to his. “Because, more than anything else, more than anyone else, my heart has always known yours.”
Then as Eve turned into morning, as the man I loved with everything inside me slid the ring down my finger, Smitty gave me the rest.
It was dirty.
So dirty that it led to fucking—quiet fucking, but still with our bodies coming together and my heart racing, my lungs sawing.
But it ended with me soaring, Smitty’s arms around me.
And that meant it was perfect.
Thank you for reading! I hope you loved meeting Smitty and Kailey as much as I did! But Smitty’s story doesn’t end with the Breakers hockey team! If you want even more big, bearded hockey players who fall hard and fast for the women they love and to get your Smitty fix, pick up book one in the Grizzlies Hockey series, MARRIED TO NUMBER TWENTY-TWO. I signed the contract. I just didn't expect her to show up ten years later, ready to cash it in.
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CLICK HERE TO READ MARRIED TO NUMBER TWENTY-TWO NOW>
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author, Elise Faber, loves chocolate, Star Wars, Harry Potter, and hockey (the order depending on the day and how well her team -- the Sharks! -- are playing). She and her husband also play as much hockey as they can squeeze into their schedules, so much so that their typical date night is spent on the ice. Elise is the mom to two exuberant boys and lives in Northern California. Connect with her in her Facebook group, the Fabinators or find more information about her books at www.elisefaber.com.
Tending Her Heart
Allie Lasky
Chapter 1
Audrey
I have one rule: no fucking hockey players. They only want one thing, and it’s not sex. It’s access to my dad.
I thought going to college would be a fresh start. Nobody knew who my dad is… or so I thought. Until my freshman year boyfriend asked if I could hook him up with tickets to a game. A guy I dated sophomore year gave up hockey after high school, so I thought he was safe. Turns out he thought he could recondition and make it in the big leagues.
And that doesn’t include all the people I thought were friends hitting me up for my access to the team and the players.
So, no. I don’t fuck around with hockey players. In or out of the bedroom.
The library was my safe haven. The books don’t care who my dad is. The books don’t want to get in my pants. It’s why I’m excited to start my master’s degree in library sciences in the fall. Even if it means moving back to Boston.
Fuck, I miss sex, though. I’ve been so gun shy, I haven’t put myself out there in a long time.
Maybe a trip to Los Angeles with my dad isn’t the end of the world. He’s going for work—LA is hosting the NHL draft this weekend—but I can run around town visiting the beaches and the bookstores to celebrate my graduation.
As I settle into my cushy first class seat, I pull out my headphones and Kindle. I can’t read paperbacks anymore unless they make them in large print. I have enough difficulty with my vision on a regular basis; I don’t need to add eye strain from squinting at too-small print.
The other passengers start to board. I get about a chapter into my book before a shadow falls over me.
“Excuse me,” a deep, masculine voice says. “This is my seat.”
I look up and try not to gawk at the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He’s about my age and tall, the top of his head brushing the plane’s ceiling. He has sharp, angular features and piercing blue eyes. His frame is broad and wide, almost lanky. Not a hockey player, then. They’re usually bulkier.
Rising, I catch a whiff of his cologne as I move past to let him in. He smells incredible, like honey and sunlight with a hint of cinnamon.
