Hammered (Blue Bay Crew #3)- Cathryn Fox Page 0,96

arms, and places his warm lips on mine. He kisses me until I’m dizzy, until Rock clears his throat. Laughing, Tyler sets me down.

“Do you think we should go tell your family?” I ask and he shakes his head, incredulously. “What?”

“I don’t think you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask when the cabin’s deck boards squeak again. Tyler turns sideways and waves.

“They’re all here.”

Just then Summer, and Kylee, and Gram, and all the guys come from inside the house and tears of happiness well up inside me. Arms are thrown around me and kisses land on my cheek, and nose and forehead as everyone welcomes me into the family.

“Okay, enough, enough,” Tyler says and pulls me into his arms. I glance into his gorgeous green eyes. Not only did I lose myself in this man, I found myself too.

“I love you, Ty.”

“I love you too,” he says.

“Okay, everyone,” Gram says and claps her hands. “Let’s leave these two lovebirds alone. They need to get to work on giving me that great-granddaughter.”

Everyone laughs, and Tyler just shakes his head. “Like I said, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

I smile, and go up on my toes to put my mouth near his ear, my words for him only. “Maybe not, but I know what you’re getting yourself into, as soon as we get you out of the tux, that is.”

“I do love a girl who knows what she wants,” Tyler—my real-life hero—says and scoops me up and carries me inside, proving happily-ever-after doesn’t just exist in the movies.

Afterword

Thank You!

* * *

Thank you so much for reading, Hammered, book a in my Blue Bay Crew Series. I hope you loved this story as much as I loved writing it. Be sure to keep reading for an excerpt of The Playmaker.

Interested in leaving a review? Please do! Reviews help readers connect with books that work for them. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative.

Happy Reading,

Cathryn

The Playmaker

Nina

Fat drops of spring rain pummel my head, wilting my curls as I dart through Seattle’s busy traffic to the café on the other side of the street. My best friend, Jess, is inside waiting for me, undoubtedly hyped up on her third latté by now.

I step over a pothole and search for an opening in the traffic. I hate being late, I really do. I totally value other people’s time, but when the email came through from my editor, asking me to write a hot hockey series, my priorities took a curve. I’ve worked with Tara for a couple years now, and I know her like—pardon the pun—a well-worn book. To her, hesitation equals disinterest. She’s a mover, a tree-shaker, and it wouldn’t have taken long for her to offer the opportunity to another author. She wanted a quick reply and I had to give it to her.

I got this!

Yeah, that was my response, but what did I have to lose? I’ve been in such a rut lately, thanks to my fickle muse, deserting me when I needed her most. I swear to God, sometimes she acts like a hormonal teenager. I need to whip her into shape so I don’t lose this gig. The royalties from a series will help make a sizeable dent in the bills that are piling up high and deep.

High and deep.

I laugh. One of those self-derisive snorts that crawls out when you’d really rather cry. Yeah, that pretty much sums up the I got this response I emailed back. High and deep, like a big steaming pile of—

A car horn blares, jolting me from my pity party. With my heart pounding in my chest, I step in front of the Tesla and flip the guy off. I safely reach the sidewalk and once again my mind is back on my job, and off the impatient jerk in the overpriced car.

I step up on the sidewalk and lift my face to the rain, the cool water a pleasant break from this unusual spring heat wave we’re having. Pressure fills my throat. The hum of traffic behind me dulls, leaving only the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. Panic.

Why the hell did my editor think I, former figure skater turned romance novelist, would want to write a series about hot hockey players? Yeah, sure my brother is an NHL player, but that doesn’t mean I’m into the game. I hate hockey. No, hate is too mild a word for what