Zack
Cold Fury Hockey # 3
Cold Fury Hockey # 3
By: Sawyer Bennett
Releasing June 9, 2015
Loveswept
New York
Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett goes for a hat trick with the latest
romance in a sexy series about cool-as-ice hockey players and the women heating
up their lives.
Warning: The following contains
spoilers from a cliffhanger in Garrett.
Rising star
Zack Grantham has been stuck in a downward spiral of grief that has put his
career on hold. Back on the road with the Carolina Cold Fury, still crippled by
emotional baggage, and now a single dad, he’s in need of some serious help with
his son. But while the nerdy new nanny wins his son’s heart, Zack isn’t sure
he’s ready for a woman’s touch—even after getting a glimpse of the killer
curves she’s hiding under those baggy clothes.
Kate
Francis usually keeps men like Zack at a distance. Though his athlete’s body is
honed to perfection, he refuses to move on with his life—and besides, he’s her
boss. Still, the sparks between them are undeniable, tempting Kate to turn
their professional relationship into a personal one. But before she makes a
power play for Zack’s wounded heart, Kate will have to open him up again and
show him that love is worth the fight.
So I
have been following along with the Cold Fury series by Sawyer Bennett and today
I got to get my hands on Zack! And boy am I super grateful.
So
let's start the story shall we. Zack is grieving for his recently deceased
girlfriend and mother of his child Gina. He has many unanswered questions about
their relationship and the survivors’ guilt is eating him alive. But he is also
angry that his sister Delaney is forcing him into hiring a nanny. Without
giving much thought to it, he hires the women that his sister likes, but what she
wasn't expecting was this tiny tomboyish nerd, who was blunt and made him angry
that she was in Gina's space.
Kate
is a young woman that has had a rough life. After her mother died giving birth
to her, her father and brothers addiction issues and raising her sisters
children, while her sister fell in and out of love in a heartbeat. Kate is
determined never to put herself back into that situation. So while working her
way through school while trying to stay debt free, Kate takes a position as a
nanny, and while Ben loves her, his father Zack is struggling with her
presence.
But
soon their relationship changes to a sexual one, that is until Zack completely
messes it up and hurt Kate is such a devastating way. But will Zack be able to
let go of his guilt and open his heart or will Kate do like she threatened and
leave.
This
is such an amazing book and that is not only because the heroine is a nanny,
even though that helps. This story was beautifully written and well researched.
I was not left with any questions or wishes that the story should have ended
differently. Every part of this book is gripping and I finished it in one night
(well 2am). I honestly cannot wait for the next book in the series.
I give
Zack 10 out of 10! You all honestly need to read this amazing book!!
The overhead lights go out, and the
club would be in total darkness if not for the recessed lights that edge the
perimeter of the stage. I slouch down in my seat, pulling my ball cap lower
over my forehead. This causes me to have to tilt my head back a little bit
farther to watch the show but keeps my face better obscured. The beard I’d been
growing for the past four months I’m sure helps to hide my fame as well.
I don’t want to be recognized.
I don’t want anyone to see me and
realize just how low Zack Grantham has fallen from grace.
A sexy techno beat starts thrumming
low, gradually building in decibels. A few whistles pierce the air, one redneck
sounding a catcall. A rolling tide of mechanical fog slithers across the black
lacquered stage and then swirling spotlights from the corners of the club start
rotating. A slight flutter at the pitch-black curtains that sit closed tight is
the only indication that something is about to happen.
A quick glance down at my phone that
sits on the table in front of me shows that the time is almost midnight. Time
for the grand finale of the evening. The moment all of the drunk and horny
patrons of The Golden Box have been waiting for.
I ignore the phone, but tip back the
tequila shot sitting in front of me, my eyes sliding up to the stage as I set
the glass back down. When the music reaches its apex, a slim but toned bare leg
sporting an obscenely high-heeled red shoe peeks through the slit of the
curtains, thigh parallel to the floor . . . calf muscle taut, with toes
pointing downward. The whistles and catcalls increase, but I watch
dispassionately.
The owner of that bare leg raises
her knee up higher, then stretches it out fully . . . gracefully, and holds it
there, just as the music lulls to a slow grind.
She holds it for just a second.
Just a moment, where everyone waits
to see what comes next.
The curtains fly apart just as the
bass thump of music crashes through the club and a stunning woman with glorious curly blond hair
bursts through. My brain processes a starched white button-down shirt and a
black fedora on her head, then just as quickly processes the fact that she
reaches to the dipping gap at her chest and rips the shirt open. Beautiful,
round, and by the looks of them, real, boobs pop forth . . . spectacularly bare
and bouncing.
A hundred horny men start cheering
and I’m sure the majority of dicks go to full mast.
The stripper, who I happen to know
goes by the name Candi Apple—and yeah, that’s Candi with an i—struts confidently up to the silver
pole lodged firmly at the edge of the stage.
Hips swaying, tongue licking at her
full bottom lip, hair wild and blowing from some kind of cheesy wind machine
built into the stage flooring.
Her right hand reaches out, grabs
the pole, and she bends her knees . . . squatting way down until her ass is
almost on the floor. Her legs are spread wide and the rotating strobe lights
cause sparkles to bounce off the silver sequins that cover the scrap of
material between her legs. Candi gyrates her hips, fucking the pole . . . right
in front of me. Her dark eyes scan the men surrounding the stage, calculating
who might be the biggest tipper. Her gaze passes right over me because I don’t
have green clutched in my fingertips waving back and forth with zeal to stuff
them in her G-string.
The show goes on and I watch it all
. . . willing for my body to feel something. I’d hoped for a hard-on to prove I
wasn’t dead, but even a slight fluttering of lust deep in my groin would have
been welcomed. Hell, I’d probably kill for a gurgle of indigestion—just fucking
something— anything to show I could react.
I come up fucking empty.
The slight ache in my right wrist
pulls my attention away from the tits and ass, and I open and close my fist
several times to ease the cramp, finally giving it a hearty shake. Overall, my
wrist has healed well over the last four months. The plates and screws have
been removed, physical therapy has been completed, and I’m feeling physically
strong. Yeah . . . my wrist is aching right now, but only because I’ve been
gripping the armrests of my chair too tightly while I waited to see if Candi Apple might
be the one to bring me back to life.
Luckily, it’s just an ache and
certainly not something that gives me any pause. I’ve been cleared by the team orthopedist,
Mark Godson, and cleared by Coach Pretore as well. Starting next week, I’ll
resume practice with the team, and if I’m lucky, it won’t be long before I’m
back in the game . . . a starting second-line left winger for the Cold Fury.
My insides feel dead, my capacity to
care for much of anything seems lost, but there are two things that still keep
me functioning. It’s the prospect of playing hockey again, and, more important,
my son, Ben.
A flare of light catches my eye and
I see my phone screen glare brightly. I grab it and wince at the angry text
from my sister, Delaney.
WTF Zack?
You leave an hour ago to get some milk and you’re not back. Where are you?
Guilt suffuses through me, and it’s
not lost on me that I’m actually feeling an emotion. But then again . . . the
acknowledgment of guilt has not been hard for me the past four months.
I wonder what Delaney would say if I
texted her back I’m at a strip club. Hoping Candi Apple turns me
on.
She’d shit a brick, that’s for sure.
USA Today and
New York Times Best-Selling Author, Sawyer Bennett is a snarky southern
woman and reformed trial lawyer who decided to finally start putting on
paper all of the stories that were floating in her head. Her husband
works for a Fortune 100 company which lets him fly all over the world
while she stays at home with their daughter and three big, furry dogs
who hog the bed. Sawyer would like to report she doesn’t have many
weaknesses but can be bribed with a nominal amount of milk chocolate.
Sawyer
is the author of several contemporary romances including the popular
Off Series, the Legal Affairs Series and the Last Call Series. She will
be releasing her third book in the Cold Fury Hockey Series with Random
House Loveswept, June 2015.
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