Finding out the guy I hooked up with is on my team isn’t the way I saw my first week of coaching going.
No Pucks, an all-new dad’s enemy, age-gap, M/M hockey romance from bestselling author J.R. Gray is now available!
My name is Anthony Hawke, and I used to be a rising star in the NHL until someone purposefully tore my ACL, ending my career. I went from the top of my life to nothing in a matter of months.
I take a coaching job a thousand miles away as a fresh start, only to ruin it before I start.
Three months ago, I met him in a bar. Sexy and funny and built like a God—no names, just the best night of my life.
I never thought I’d see him again, but jokes on me, he’s a freshman on my team. Not only is he an insufferable playboy, but his father is the one who ruined my career.
I can’t lose this coaching job by sleeping with a player, but he won’t let it go. And if his father finds out, forget working anywhere in hockey again.
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“You’re letting your disdain show on your face again.” My younger brother Evander elbows in next to me. “Maybe try to smile.” He’s everything my father wanted in a first son, the golden child, but I don’t hate him for it.
“I’m smiling.”
“Sure, I guess, but it’s more like how a shark smiles…” Evander is so effortlessly funny, I’m not sure he even knows it half the time, quite the opposite of my snark.
“Thank you for noticing.” My smirk grows.
He shivers and makes a face. “Unnerving, but it seems to work for you, so good luck.”
“Did Mother send you over?” I barely spare him a glance, keeping my focus on the people milling in and out of the cocktail hour waiting for their time slot to walk the carpet.
“No, but she’ll be looking for us any minute.”
“I’m ready and waiting.” I sigh, absentmindedly smoothing a hand down the sheer shirt I’m wearing. I hate charity events.
Actually, I just hate my parents’ friends showing off like prized cocks. It’s sold as altruism, but it just comes off as them playing whose yacht is bigger, and by yacht, I mean dick. There’s a kind of desperation to these events, a kind of theatric sorting ceremony held once a year to establish their pathetic pecking order. I came to the conclusion many years ago they were all over compensating. I would know—I’d fucked enough of them.
I’ve found the only way to get through these things is to hunt.
Sex is the most honest thing on the planet.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Evander wears the standard boring male attire, not allowing our mother to dress him beyond the classic look: black suit, black shirt, black tie with a designer tag. But he wears it like a model, which fits well into the image of our family Mother wants to put out.
“I’m good,” I reply, wanting to shut him down. I’m not looking to rehash it all here. Unfortunately, his face tells me he won’t just drop it. “Leave it. Dad will get over it eventually.” I look away. I’m here because I love our mother, and this is important to her. “We can pretend to be a normal family tonight and Dad can continue his tirade tomorrow.”
My father’s mad I choose not to go to his alma mater, but this is Mother’s favorite event of the season and she sits on the board, so the whole family’s attendance is kind of a requirement.
“Or he’ll hold it like a grudge the rest of his life.” Evander shoves his hands into his pockets. He never clashes with our father because he’s what’s expected: the typical jock, the spitting image of dear old dad.
I play hockey too, but I took after our mother. I’m slimmer and quicker on the ice, and I’ve rejected all of Dad’s dynasty bullshit, wanting to be myself, much to his disappointment.
“Then he holds a grudge. I’ve never been his favorite, and I’m not trying to start.” I’m over this conversation. After the fight we had at home, I just want to find someone to help me forget, and this is the perfect setting.
“I don’t want you upset all night.” Evander’s massive bleeding heart kills me.
“I promise, I’m going to enjoy myself one way or another.” I don’t let anything keep me down for long. I finish my drink and set it on the bar. “I’m going to get some air before we have to do this thing.”
“There are other ways to process feelings, Logan.”
“Other than whoring myself out to someone twice my age, you mean? I don’t think so.” I laugh.
“Let’s hug it out.” Evander opens his arms.
I fake repulsion. “Not in public. People might get the idea we like each other.”
Evander forcefully wraps his arms around me. “Don’t you feel better?”
“Yes, thank you.” I love him for his big himbo jock heart and can’t bring myself to crush it. “I’m going to get some air before I have to do the people thing.”
Evander follows me out the back door of the hotel like my emotional support puppy. I lean against the brick wall of the side alley, absorbing the cool air—a moment of peace, trying to tune out the crowds around the corner screaming at their favorite celebrities walking the gala carpet.
Movement catches my attention, and I look up to find a man further down the alley having a heated conversation on his phone. He’s yelling under his breath, illuminated by the propped open door of a bar. He’s rough around the edges, not the kind of guy who’d normally frequent a bar off Fifth Ave.
A few strands of hair stand out at odd angles, like he has run his hands through it too many times—a slightly overgrown fade, flecked with gray. He’s big too, with at least a couple of inches on me, dark chest hair peeking out of the v-neck he’s wearing. Just the type of man who can throw me around.
I’m instantly drawn to him.
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