Ice Storm

By Violet Rae

Can the bubbly PA convince the grumpy hockey enforcer that love heals all wounds?

Harrison
I'm not gonna lie. As a professional hockey enforcer, I've never backed down from a good fight. But while my bad boy reputation on the ice is warranted, when it comes to women, nothing could be further from the truth. Then I crash into Jessica Solomon, the curvy, goddess who lights my lamp with one look from those baby blues. I hope she's ready to be claimed now she's melted the ice around my heart because I plan on keeping my blonde angel ... forever.

Jessica
I don't know the first thing about hockey, but when I'm tasked to obtain complimentary tickets for one of the Ice Giants biggest games of the season, I need to learn ... fast. And where better to start than at a game? I never expect to run head first into one of the players, a mountain of a man who steals my breath and my sanity. Harrison Tensly is a triple whammy of manly goodness - big, bossy, and breathtakingly masculine. Just like that, I'm in way over my head, and hockey is the last thing on my mind...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Violet Rae
• Release date: Oct 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798224117765

Book preview

Chapter 1

Harrison

I skate onto the ice with my teammates, and the crowd goes wild. We’re unbeatable this season, with win after win, and this in the Stanley Cup quarter-final. The game unfolds perfectly. We skate circles around the opposing team, and so far, no one has needed my expertise as the enforcer. There aren’t many enforcers left in the NHL now, but my team is my family, and I give my all every game. My teammates deserve the protection I provide them.

A guy from the opposing team squares up to me, throwing down his hockey stick and tearing off his gloves. The crowd, already loud, roars in anticipation of a potential fight. I mimic his moves, throwing down my stick and removing my gloves as he pulls back his fist. The blow glances off my left cheek, and I grin. This guy is going for it, but I have a few inches and even more pounds on him. I thrust my shoulder into his chest, slamming him into the side of the arena. The shielding rattles with impact, and the audience begins to bang on it as the poor guy slumps to the ground.  

I look down at him and shake my head menacingly. It’s all an act, of course. Most of us are good friends off the ice, whichever team we’re on. Besides, we’re built to take the physical abuse the game demands. My opponent stands and nods his head, following me back to where we left our gloves and sticks. I’m sure my coach will have something to say about our little scene. But seriously, if I don’t fight with at least one player on the ice, the powers that be will begin to question whether I’m worth the paycheck.  

And without hockey, I have very little else.  

The game continues with my team, The Ice Giants, scoring point after point. We’re a force to be reckoned with. The crowd is frenzied, adding to the amazing high of being on the ice. By the time the claxon sounds signifying the end of the game, we’ve smashed it.  

We skate off the ice and into the locker rooms.  

Great game tonight, guys, Coach Larch says to no one in particular as we begin to strip off our kit. Tensly, I want to see you in my office.  

I groan inwardly. I know what this is about, and I’m sick and fucking tired of being told I can’t do the job I’m paid for. I shower quickly and change, watching as my teammates head out to the bar we frequent after games.

Frustration has my shoulders tense as I push the door of Coach Larch’s office open and prepare to argue my case.  

He wastes no time getting to the point. What was that with Edmonds? He’s sitting behind his desk piled high with game plans and potential contracts. 

Just a little show, Coach. No one got hurt. 

That’s not the point, he declares, his voice taking on a stern quality I recognize all too well. When was the last time any of my teammates were on the receiving end of our coach’s ire? I’m beginning to think I’m the only one he ever pulls into this box of a room to have my ass dragged over the coals. You know it takes time from the actual game when you decide to kick off.  

I wasn’t kicking off, Coach, I say as respectfully as possible. I’m tired, and an old shoulder injury is flaring up. I want to go home and ice it, not stand here arguing over my role on the team. I’m an enforcer, and he asked for the fight. People come to be entertained, and a little drama is all part of what pulls people in.

Coach Larch glares at me. If you want fucking drama, become an actor, he says angrily. We’re on track to win the season, but I won’t have you fucking around on the ice and wasting my time or this opportunity for the team.

I narrow my eyes on him. "Fucking around and wasting time? Are you for real?"

Coach Larch plows on as if I haven’t spoken. I won’t be renewing your contract for next year, Tensly. The game is changing, and we need to change with it. We have the semi-final next week, and if we make it to the final, that will be your last game.  

What. The. Fuck?  Noah, my brother and agent, warned me this was on the cards, but I didn’t want to listen. You don’t get to scrape me off the sole of your shoe like a piece of shit, Coach. I’ve given my all to this team, shed blood, sweat and goddamn tears for you and the guys!

Coach Larch shakes his head, his expression hard. This isn’t about loyalty or sacrifice.

If it’s not about loyalty and sacrifice, what the fuck is it about? I demand, clenching and unclenching my fists at my sides.

It’s about facts and figures. It’s a business decision. Nothing more, nothing less.

Of course, I know it’s a business. I’m not naïve enough to think it’s simply about sheer talent and determination. But Coach Larch has made it no secret that he wants to be rid of the enforcer role—of me—since he took over two years ago. Looks like he’s finally got his wish.

Anger bubbles in my chest, but I push it down. Losing my temper won’t get me anywhere. I see. So I’m out of a job because your fucking facts and figures don’t stack up. I’m the best enforcer this team has ever had. I’ve defended my brothers on the ice and taken fists to my face more times than I can count. I’ve given everything I am to this team, and you’re tossing me away like a piece of trash.

Coach Larch presses his lips together, his expression shuttered. I’m sorry you see it that way, Tensly.

I release a humorless laugh and nod. Right. I get it. Done deal, no point arguing.

I turn and slam out of his office. My heart is thumping wildly as I grab my bag from my locker, my head down, my mind elsewhere as I barrel from the locker room . . . straight into a blonde tornado coming the other way.

She bounces off my large frame and ricochets backward onto her ass with a surprised yelp.

Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t⁠—"

She looks up at me, and my words get stuck in my throat. Blue eyes lock onto mine, and something slides into place inside me. It’s a physical sensation that has me unconsciously rubbing my hand over my chest.

Those cerulean eyes are set