The rookie superstar, the desperate cowboy, and a naughty proposition…
Denny
The press calls me this year's hotshot, the rookie who scores at will and conjures plays out of thin air. Truth is…I'm a PR nightmare. Seriously. Ask my agent.
My anxiety is off the charts. I can't talk to the media without breaking into a cold sweat, but once I get through the season, I can regroup at home. Life is simpler in Vermont.
Well, not anymore. There's a new cowboy in town. Literally, a cowboy. At least, Hank looks like one—he owns a horse, wears a hat, and did I mention he's hot?
And get this…he has a proposition for me.
Hank
Proposition is a strong word. I prefer to call this a mutually beneficial arrangement. See, I could use Denny's help with a family business venture, and though I was planning to offer cash, the jock has a sexier idea.
Not gonna lie, I'm interested.
This could be a fun distraction while I'm stuck in Elmwood. Nice enough place, however, the locals are wary of an outsider taking over the neighboring mill. Long story short…they don't trust me. But they love their hometown hockey hero.
I get it.
I've never met anyone like Denny—skittish in street clothes and a feral beast with cunning instincts on the ice. He's fascinating, sexy, smart, and—
Whoa! I'm not falling for the hotshot rookie. No way, no how, no chance…
Too late.
Hotshot is an MM bisexual, age-gap, small town romance featuring a hotshot rookie, a sexy cowboy, and a proposition that changes everything.
Excerpt:
"Let's get this over with. What did you want?"
"Ouch. I can't remember the last time anyone was happy to see me," he groused without heat. "Except Steve the contractor. He likes me okay, but he's being paid well. Our employees do well too, but sadly, they don't like me at all."
"I can't help you with that. Sorry."
Hank sipped his beer and shrugged. "Yes, you can. I'm extorting you, remember?"
"Oh…yeah." I chuckled.
And fuck, I didn't want to be amused. I didn't want to like Hank at all, but it was hard not to appreciate his self-deprecating honesty. He emanated "nice guy" vibes with the right amount of edge. No wonder drunk me had gotten flirty with him. Fortunately, sober me knew he was more than I could handle.
Which was fine since Hank wasn't interested anyway. He wanted my alleged star power, not me.
So why was I grinning like an idiot?
Fuck, I had a bad feeling my eyes were twinkling too. I had to rein that shit in, stat.
"So…let's make a deal," he said, thankfully unaware of my inner detour. "I need an Elmwood buddy. My dad gave me the all-clear to make my offer sexy, so…what'll it be?"
I bugged my eyes out. "Sexy?"
"Yeah, something interesting. If it's money, name your price. Tell me what you want in exchange for your time."
You.
The word tripped to the tip of my tongue. I bit it back and swallowed it, clearing my throat to be sure it was gone.
"I just…want to make sure that whatever I blabbed while I was wasted off my ass stays between us."
"Yeah, but I'll do that for free. You can trust me."
"I don't know you," I retorted.
"True," he conceded, sipping his beer. "But you don't really have a choice. I can't prove that I won't sell you out. It's a trust thing. Let's talk about the sexy angle, 'cause I need an Elmwood buddy like yesterday."
"I can't believe I'm asking this, but…what does an Elmwood buddy do?"
"He shows the new guy the ropes." Hank leaned in. "Introduce me, give me tips on who's who and what to avoid. I suck in Elmwood and I need a champion, a liaison…a friend. That can be you."
I huffed in amusement, feeling strangely at ease. He was charming as fuck and I was not immune. "How can you suck in Elmwood? Everyone is cool there."
He slumped on his stool. "I don't know, but I'm even worse in Wood Hollow. I don't get it. People in Denver like me just fine. Even you like me."
"No, I like your hat." I reached for his water and winked.
I fucking winked.
Me.
That was me flirting. Ugh. Bad, Denny. Bad.
I felt surprisingly relaxed with him. Like I had last weekend when I'd spilled my guts and…other things. The point was, I could talk to him without feeling immediately depleted, and that alone was a minor miracle.
Hank kicked my shin playfully. "Nah, you like me. You did last weekend, anyway."
"I was drunk, and I'm still mortified. Go easy on me." I took a swig of water as if I were knocking back whisky.
"I'll try, but…you shook your dick at me, then fell buck-ass naked in my bed, so c'mon."
My eyes had to be saucer-sized. "I shook my dick at you?"
He inclined his chin and winked in a touché move that made my cock swell against my zipper.
"A week later, I'm still thinking about it," Hank drawled.
Whoa. Was he serious?
Lane Hayes lives in sunny Southern California with her amazing husband, who thankfully doesn't mind cooking, and their fabulous fox red Labrador, George, who's pure mischief. Both provide oodles of inspiration for the low-angst, humorous books Lane loves to write.
She's been telling stories about sexy, funny, sometimes geeky and quirky men who find love for a dozen years now and loving every minute. In her previous life, she sat at a desk and dealt with numbers, so yes…romance is much more satisfying!
Lane loves tea, travel, and chocolate…in any order. Add a book and she's set!
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