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Dirty Devil

Pretending to be a hot hockey player’s girlfriend shouldn’t be a problem.

Except when that player is my brother’s teammate, Foster Craig, with the body of a god and a British accent that melts the panties straight off my lady bits. Did I mention that I might have a teeny crush on him?

But after a picture of an accidental kiss goes viral, he makes an offer I’d be hard pressed to refuse. A few dates in exchange for a lot of money. It seems harmless enough. And besides, I have a dead car, a baby to take care of, and a romance novel to write.

I just have to remember–No. More. Hockey. Players. Especially one who scores more off the ice than on.

Even if he comes to my rescue after my car breaks down. Or attempts to make me a cake for my birthday. Or dances with my two month old son when he thinks I’m not watching. I’m trying to resist him, but when he offers to help me test out “positions” for the novel I’m writing, things get a little… complicated. (And I’m not just talking about the Reverse Wheel Barrow with a Corkscrew Twist.)

And I find myself breaking my rules one by one.

If I take my heart out of the penalty box, am I going to end up being checked by yet another player?

Dirty Devil is a laugh out loud, steamy, fake relationship, single mom, reformed playboy sports romance featuring a British hockey player with a fancy peen and his teammates little sister with an addition to spicy books. This book is a full-length standalone with no cheating, cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

This novel contains scenes that may be triggering for some.

False Start

Holy mother-forking shirtballs.

I shouldn’t know what my best friend’s trouser snake feels like. I shouldn’t but after waking up naked in his bed with IT pressed against me, I do. So, even though nothing happened between us, I promptly freak out. Silently, of course, because I don’t want to risk waking him up.

And now I have a problem.

For the past six years, I’ve been perfectly content looking the other way every time I see Hudson running across the football field in those tight pants or walking around our house shirtless, but now I’m noticing everything. Especially the way he looks in those jeans.

And he’s not looking at me like someone who’s just a friend.

So when he suggests one night of no strings fun to get it out of our systems, I’m powerless to say no. And then everything will go back to normal.

Or at least that’s the plan.

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