Iowa Intellect: A Spicy and Forbidden, Opposites-Attract Hockey Romance: States of Love, #14

By Ann Omasta and Callie Love

No one expects professional hockey player Brock Mann to be smart or creative, and that's exactly how he likes it.

 

Brock is known as the Brick Man on the ice. Everyone views him as a dumb, tough jock because he keeps his intellectual side, including his love of poetry, well hidden from the world.

 

Dr. Caroline Wilson is growing weary of patching up the battered and bruised hockey player. She fears that Brock may be permanently injured if he continues playing the sport he loves.

 

There is no denying the magnetic attraction between Brock and Caroline, but these two are at odds over the athlete's ability to continue his sports career.

 

When Brock and Caroline are put to the test, who will come out on top? Find out in the spicy hockey romance, Iowa Intellect.

 

The States of Love books are scorching stories with heat, heart, and laughter. They feature strong characters, sizzling chemistry, and satisfying happily-ever-afters. Start anywhere. Binge-read them all. Skate away with Brock and Caroline in Iowa Intellect to satisfy your steamy romance craving.

• Language: English
• Publisher: More Happily Ever Afters
• Release date: Jan 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223047292

Ann Omasta

Ann Omasta is a USA Today bestselling author.  Ann’s Top Ten list of likes, dislikes, and oddities: I despise whipped cream. There, I admitted it in writing. Let the ridiculing begin. Even though I have lived as far south as Key Largo, Florida, and as far north as Maine, I landed in the middle. If I don't make a conscious effort not to, I will drink nothing but tea morning, noon, and night. Hot tea, sweet tea, green tea––I love it all. There doesn't seem to be much in life that is better than coming home to a couple of big dogs who are overjoyed to see me. My other family members usually show significantly less enthusiasm about my return. Singing in my bestest, loudest voice does not make my family put on their happy faces. This includes the big, loving dogs referenced above. Yes, I am aware that bestest is not a word. Dorothy was right. There's no place like home. All of the numerous bottles in my shower must be lined up with their labels facing out. It makes me feel a little like Julia Roberts' mean husband from the movie Sleeping with the Enemy, but I can't seem to control this particular quirk. I love, love, love finding a great bargain! Did I mention that I hate whipped cream? It makes my stomach churn to look at it, touch it, smell it, or even think about it. Great––now I'm thinking about it. Ick! ** I would LOVE to send you a free copy of my novella, Aloha, Baby! Visit annomasta.com for details. ** Stay up-to-date on new releases and insider info by liking / following Ann: - Facebook: facebook.com/annomasta - Goodreads: goodreads.com/annomasta - Bookbub: bookbub.com/authors/ann-omasta - Website: annomasta.com

Book preview

1

BROCK

Iam unstoppable on the ice. They don’t call me the Brick Man for nothing. Granted, it jibes incredibly well with my actual name, Brock Mann, but I’ve actually worked hard to earn and keep my tough-sounding nickname.

The friends I grew up playing ice hockey with have all veered off in other directions, but I never strayed. Hockey was my first love, and I don’t plan to give it up until they carry me off the rink in a body bag.

I’ve spent the entire day reaching out to everyone I’m connected with online––even some people I haven’t spoken to in years. It’s exhausting work, but it has to be done.

Thanks to the Life Chat data breach, some idiot hacked into all of my social media accounts and started asking my contacts to send money. I’m hopeful that anyone who actually knows me realizes that I would never do that, but I’m not willing to take that chance.

I don’t want people whispering behind my back about how I’ve fallen on hard times and resorted to begging––especially since it’s completely untrue. I would rather eat broken glass than ask for handouts.

Knowing that making all of these phone calls would be total drudgery, I saved the best two for last. Relief sweeps through my system when I realize that I’m finally down to those final two calls.

After plopping down on my sofa and crossing my feet, I grin and tap the button to call my childhood friend, Leo Sullivan. Leo was almost as good at ice hockey as I am, but not quite. I became the breakout star, while he went the pacifist route and became a tree hugger. He literally makes his living as a sustainable tree farmer.

We took very different career paths, but even if we go years without speaking to each other, we quickly pick up where we left off. Today is no exception. He answers the call, sounding thrilled to hear from me.

Leo is one of the few people who never underestimates me, and there will never come a day when I don’t have that man’s back.

As soon as I clarify that any requests for cash that look like they’re from me are bogus, he informs me that I make way more money than he does, so he would turn me down flat, anyway.

I chuckle because I know that, in reality, Leo would give me his last dime. That’s just the kind of friend he is.

Leo sounds truly happy as he fills me in about Charlotte, his mischievous pet pig, and his new love, Camille.

I tell him that I can’t wait to meet them both, and I truly mean it.

He asks about my love life. I quickly brush off the question, since there isn’t much to tell––yet.

Never one to pry, Leo says, Take care of that thick skull. Rumor has it that it protects a beautiful mind.

You know it, I quip, uncomfortable with my friend’s open praise.

As soon as I sign off the call with Leo, I take a deep breath and search my phone’s directory for Dr. Caroline Wilson’s number. Granted, as much as I’ve seen her lately, I should have her pinned in my favorites.

I stare at her name on the screen, glad that I rewarded myself for a long day of outreach by saving the best for last.

The doctor picks up my call to her personal cell phone on the first ring.

I’m grinning from ear to ear when, rather than a traditional greeting, the gorgeous doctor asks, What am I patching up for you this time, Brock?

2

CAROLINE

As the team doctor for the Iowa Gray Hawks ice hockey team, I shouldn’t have any favorite players. I’m supposed to be professional and detached. But gorgeous, charming Brock Mann makes that mission damn near impossible.

When he calls my personal cell phone number to warn me that his social media accounts have been hacked, I find myself twirling a lock of my hair around my index finger. As soon as I notice the girly and flirtatious movement, I force myself to sit up straight in my chair, place my errant hand flat on my desk, and thank my lucky stars that the blasted man couldn’t see me acting like a silly schoolgirl with a crush on the hunky athlete.

In an efficient tone, I say, Thank you for alerting me about this breach. I’ll be sure to ignore any requests for money that appear to come from you.

It shouldn’t surprise me that Brock notices the sudden shift in my demeanor. The man always seems to have his finger on my pulse––even though I’m the one who is supposed to be monitoring his health.

What just happened there? It sounded like you built an entire wall between us in a matter of seconds. His relaxed drawl is the exact opposite of the clipped manner of speaking that I had just adopted with him.

Nope, just trying to be efficient. Was that the only reason for your call? My words come out in a rush as I fully morph into prim, respectable, and time-crunched physician mode.

It’s obvious that the abrupt change in my attitude has caught him by surprise when he stumbles a bit over his words for the first time since I’ve known him. Oh, umm, yeah… I guess that was all I needed.

Very well, then. Deciding that sounds a bit too hoity-toity, I add, Let’s hope I don’t see you after tomorrow night’s game.

You don’t want to see me? He sounds crushed.

I hate it that my heart does a flip-flop in my chest at his immediate, vulnerable response. It’s obvious by his tone that my words have affected him in a major way.

Softening a bit, I clarify, You only come to see me after games when you’re injured. I know you have a reputation for having a thick skull, but there is a limit to how much abuse it can endure.

I’ve tried to have this crucial conversation with him many times in the past, but he always immediately shuts me down.

True to form, he says, I’m tougher than I look, Doc. Besides, that’s what buckets were made for––to protect what little brains dumb jocks, like me, have.

The man is hardly a ‘dumb’ jock. I’ve taken note of the eloquent way he speaks when he’s not playing Mr. Tough Guy, and rumor has it that he’s quite an investment guru. Rather than addressing his self-effacing comment, I remind him, Helmets can only do so much.

Evidently tiring of my Debbie Downer warnings, Brock says in a confident tone, I’ll be fine. I always am. But even if I’m not, I have the best team doctor in the world to patch me up and get me back out on the ice.

While I appreciate his unwavering faith in my abilities, I can’t shake the nausea-inducing feeling that one of these times his wounds are going to be too severe for me to treat. The mere idea of him being permanently injured and unable to play the sport he so obviously loves makes my stomach churn.

I’ll always do what I can to help you, but I can’t perform miracles, I remind him.

Oh, I think you can. His frisky tone is back.

Knowing that his flirting is completely addictive to me, I decide to shut him down before the temptation becomes too much. My voice sounds snippy when I say, Well, I can’t, and it would be wise of you to remember that and not expect it of me.

Yes, ma’am, he replies, sounding utterly sincere.

The way he picks up on my need to distance myself from him and immediately backs off is completely endearing. Damn it!

Knowing that talking to him more will only make my unwise crush on him grow stronger, I effectively end the conversation by saying, I have work to do. Good luck at your game tomorrow, Mr. Mann.

If he notices how brisk my words are, he gives no indication of it as