He’s a Special Forces veteran making his pro hockey debut. She’s a dogged sports reporter determined to get a scoop. She’s also his best friend’s widow…
Fans can’t get enough of Levi Hunt, the Special Forces veteran who put his NHL career on hold to serve his country and fight the bad guys. So when his new Chicago Rebels bosses tell him to cooperate with the press on a profile, he’s ready to do his duty. Until he finds out who he has to work with: flame-haired, freckle-splashed, impossibly perky Jordan Cooke.
The woman he should not have kissed the night she buried her husband, Levi’s best friend in the service.
Hockey-stick-up-his-butt-serious Levi Hunt might despise Jordan for reasons she can’t fathom—okay, it’s to do with kissing—but her future in the cutthroat world of sports reporting hangs on delivering the goods on the league’s hottest, grumpiest rookie. So what if he’s not interested in having his life plated up for public consumption. Too bad. Jordan will have to play dirty to get her scoop and even dirtier to get her man. Only in winning the story, she might just lose her heart…
Sassy, steamy, and sexy!
Good Guy is a second-chance, hockey romance featuring the humble, publicity magnet, Levi Hunt who after having a harrowing career in the Green Berets becomes the oldest rookie in the NHL, and the spunky, tenacious widow, Jordan Cooke who may have to decide what’s more important the feelings of her late husband’s best friend or the opportunity at the career she’s always wanted.
The writing is crisp and fervent. The characters are charismatic, intriguing, and endearing. And the plot is a lighthearted, passionate tale filled with sizzling tension, poignant moments, scorching chemistry, flirty innuendoes, genuine emotion, and a swoon-worthy, happy-ever-after ending.
Overall, I found Good Guy to be a charming, entertaining, fantastic start to this new Rookie Rebels series by Meader that I am positive will be a big hit with fans of the sports romance genre and lovers of the Chicago Rebels series everywhere.
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He needed to escape before he said or did something he’d regret, but he also needed her to be safe, which meant there was only one way this could proceed.
“I just hauled you out of there under the guise of doing this interview, so we—”
“Probably should keep up the pretense?”
“Correct.” He stalked toward the elevator bank, both relieved and on edge that she accompanied him.
“Were you headed to the bar to meet up with someone?”
“Just feeling restless in my room. Looking for company.”
“And I ruined it by making you think you needed to play target extraction.”
The elevator doors opened and when they closed again, he was inside and sharing the sultry air with Jordan. He pressed the button for the tenth floor. “You didn’t ruin it. Something else took precedence, is all.”
In that moment, when he saw her, all thoughts of a night of dumb jokes with his crew dispersed to the outer limits of the Tri-State area. Sure, he noticed her discomfort with Stroger but even if he hadn’t, even if it had been Jordan in a room full of supermodels, there would have been no one else. Only her.
This was not controlling the narrative.
This was a fucking mess.
The elevator reached his floor and he stepped off, with her following.
Please. Fucking. No.
“Well, like I said, Levi, you didn’t have to rescue me.” She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed, probably intending to be friendly. Her touch flayed him. “I had it handled.”
He snapped. “Did you have it handled, Jordan? Because from what I can see you’re a beautiful woman forced to play nice with a bunch of jocks who probably think they have a shot with you.”
Her eyes flashed. “No one forcesme to do anything. I do this job because I love it, and yeah, the guys I cover usually enjoy a laugh and a joke. Unlike some people who’d rather scowl everyone around them into the grave. But I know where the line is and I’ve no problem redrawing it when necessary.”
Fury shouldn’t have made her more attractive. It shouldn’t have given that wrinkle between her eyebrows new purpose or the lips he wanted to kiss a plumpness that made his mouth water. It shouldn’t have made her chest heave with effort, which only drew his attention to their lush swell and the hint of cleavage he wanted to explore.
“I’m not saying you don’t. I’m saying that guys in this environment tend to turn into entitled asses and wouldn’t know a line if it was steamrolled all over their faces. I don’t want you to be in any situation where you have to even think about the line. Case in point, maybe you shouldn’t be fondling Kershaw’s biceps!”
She did a double take. “Fondling?”
“Yes, fondling. You’re a journalist. Haven’t you heard of it?”Weak, man. So weak.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” she said, a rasp to her voice. “It’s one of my favorite words, actually. Are you seriously jealous … of Theo?”
Yes. All the yes.“Of course not. But he’s a dumb kid, and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”
She was closer now, close enough to share a breath. To stumble headlong into her. To fall into madness.
Thank you Kate Meader for providing me with a copy in exchange for an honest review.