I’ll have to choose—the girl of my dreams or the career I’ve worked my entire life for.
Lawson, an all-new must read, forbidden, hockey romance and the first book in the Bangor Badgers series from bestselling author Samantha Whiskey is now available!
I’ve just been drafted onto the one NHL franchise that never should’ve been: the Bangor Badgers.
The team is on the cusp of failure and the only thing lower than their number of wins last season is their ticket sales. But thanks to me, that’s all about to change. Nothing will stand in my way of turning us into a winning team…
Until a stranger who gives me the hottest kiss of my life turns out to be my new skate coach.
Blakely Wren is gorgeous, funny, and brilliant on the ice. Her figure skating days have made her a perfect asset for the Badgers, and her take-no-prisoners attitude has me signing up for more lessons than necessary.
Things heat up between us the more time we spend on the ice, and soon it’s not just the Stanley Cup I want to win this season—it’s her heart.
Only problem?
She’s completely off-limits and has a toxic past that’s made her wary of all things relationship. She’s hiding something too, and her secret is big enough to put both our jobs on the line.
And in the end, I’ll have to choose—the girl of my dreams or the career I’ve worked my entire life for.
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Keep Reading for a look inside Lawson!
I'm in the middle of telling one of the other rookies how much I love the Seattle Sharks when my eyes snag on a pretty blonde sitting at the bar across the room. She’s stirring the ice in her drink, talking to the bartender with an easy smile on her face. Even from here I can tell she's gorgeous. Her long legs are clad in a pair of jeans, and a loose-fitting cream top covers some deliciously toned curves.
I'm already working out the best way to gain her enthusiastic consent for a night full of fun—because the last thing I'm looking for is a relationship when my first love is the ice—when my thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a guy approaches her.
The rookie I was chatting with pushes away from the table, heading to talk to another group of guys at the next one over. I know I should get back to mingling too—bonding with my new teammates will be crucial before the actual season starts—but there's something about this girl. I can't take my eyes off her, even when my hopes are slightly dashed by the guy talking to her. She seems to know him, at least by the way she turns toward him, leaving her back to me. The only thing I can see now are those beautiful long blonde waves.
He's not sitting down though, which means he’s either a stranger trying to do what I was about to do, or he's a familiar person she doesn't want to sit down.
I'm up before I can tell myself not to cross the room. There's just no way that I can let the night go by without at least getting this girl's name. If the dude standing next to her with a scowl on his face is her boyfriend, then I'll leave it be.
But if she's unattached, then I'm all about a little friendly competition.
In fact, I fucking thrive off of it.
I set my empty drink on the end of the bar. The bartender smiles at me and flashes me a silent question if I want another. I shake my head as my spot at the bar puts me in earshot to hear the blonde say, “I told you, you can't keep showing up like this.”
The concern in her voice fires up all my protective instincts.
I've heard that tone several times from my little sister, on the rare occasions we’re in town at the same time and are able to hit the bar scene together.
I hesitate, knowing I really have no fucking place interfering like I would with my little sister. But I can't deny the urge to interfere, especially when she turns away from the guy, the tense set of her body language clearly stating she’s uncomfortable.
“I'm not gonna quit showing up,” the guy says, leaning over the bar to make sure that she’s looking at his face. “Not until you listen.”
She maneuvers away again, and I've lost all fucks to give about social propriety. She clearly doesn't want this fucker in her face. And if she doesn’t want me to butt in, then I’ll apologize and walk away.
“Not until you realize you're making a mistake—”
“Babe, I'm sorry I'm late,” I cut the guy off, boldly sliding my arm around her shoulders and looking down at her.
Fuck me, she has the most beautiful blue-gray eyes I've ever seen, out here looking like the sky after an afternoon rainstorm.
She doesn't immediately jerk out of my touch. Instead, she looks up at me and smiles the most breathtaking smile I've ever seen.
“It's okay,” she says effortlessly. “You can make it up to me later.”
Well if that doesn't make heat slice through my veins then I don't know what will.
I grin down at her, cocking a brow. “Which way will it be this time?” I ask.
“Ice cream in bed or a Bridgerton marathon between orgasms?”
Her lips part at my second suggestion, a delightful little flush crossing her cheeks before she purses her full lips.
For more information about Samantha Whiskey and her books, visit her website: https://www.samanthawhiskey.com
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