Goaltending:Seattle Sockeyes Hockey

By: Jami Davenport

(Game On in Seattle Book 8)



WANTED: Single dad needs nanny--In more ways than one.



Martin "Brick" Bricker is living the good life. He's playing the sport he loves, has all the women he can handle, and parties like a rock star. At twenty-six, he has no interest in slowing down or taking anything seriously —except hockey, of course.



Then a knock at his door changes everything. Suddenly he's the single father to a five-year-old daughter he didn't know he had, and he's trading his playboy ways for Barbies.



Amelia Stacey struggles to make ends meet and juggles her day-care job with a full load of college classes. When she's offered a temporary, two-week nanny position making more money than she imagines, she jumps at the chance. Before she knows it, she's in over her head, not just with her five-year-old charge but with the girl's hot single father.



Brick always goes after what he wants, and he wants Amelia. Only responsible Amelia doesn't want anything to do with the party boy. Struggling with fatherhood and his unexplainable attraction to his nanny, Brick has to figure out where his daughter and Amelia fit into his life. If they fit at all.



But one thing's for sure: Brick can't block this shot straight to his heart.





Chapter 1—In the Net


Martin “Brick” Bricker was one lucky bastard. He had it all. Good looks, ripped body, more money than he could spend, and more women than he could handle.

It was good to be him. Really, really good.

Being named sexiest male athlete last week by the Hot Hockey Hunks website was icing on his already rich, gooey cake. And he loved that cake, indulging every chance he got.

Who could blame him? He was young, attractive, and virile. He loved all females, tall and slender, short and curvy, and anything in between. And women loved him.

But Brick’s good fortune didn’t stop there. He was the starting goalie on one of the NHL’s hottest young teams. The Seattle Sockeyes were touted as Stanley Cup contenders by the preseason predictors, whoever the hell those people were. Brick wanted the Cup so badly he imagined the deafening roar of the crowd as the final buzzer rang, the weight of the Cup in his hands as he skated victoriously around the arena, and its sweet metallic taste as he drank champagne from it. He might only be in his fourth year, but he coveted the Cup as much as a guy who’d been in the league for fifteen years and had never won it. He sure as hell didn’t want to be that guy. He wanted to win it while he was young—and keep winning it.

With a weary sigh, Brick stretched and rolled out of bed. He squinted at the clock—two in the fucking afternoon.

Damn.

He’d had a wild night last night and had staggered home well after the sun had come up. He’d been gifted with incredible stamina and a hardy constitution that required little sleep but for some reason last night’s activities had hit him harder than usual.

After taking care of business in the bathroom, he walked naked into the kitchen of his large Lake union   condo. He hated clothes, partially because of his propensity to overheat and partially because he enjoyed the shock value. Brick sweltered in warm rooms. They reminded him too much of how hot his stepmother—correct that, father’s second wife—chose to keep their house. The place suffocated him. He’d always preferred the chilly temps of his mom’s cabin in the woods.

Putting a Tully’s K-Cup in his Keurig, he waited for his mug to fill. Taking a sip, he carried it to the wall of windows and stared down at the water below. Houseboats rocked gently on Lake union  , and he had to smile. Ever since he’d seen Sleepless in Seattle, one of his mother’s favorite movies, he’d sworn if he ever moved to Seattle he’d own one of those houseboats. His Realtor had been toiling for months to find the right one. So far, no luck, but Brick was a patient man.

For now, he had to be content with his condo and the privacy it afforded his current lifestyle. He kept his place at arctic temps and never invited women over. He preferred an impersonal hotel room from which he could escape in the early hours, as he’d done this morning. He practically had a room on retainer in the luxury boutique hotel five minutes down the street. He was certainly on a first-name basis with everyone who worked there.

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