PUCKING WILD (SNOWHAWKS #3) BY REGINA WADE – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Regina Wade
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Sofie
I HATE CROWDS.
There’s something about the press of bodies that affects me on a
visceral, physical level. My senses sharpen, and I can taste every dirty drop
of sweat, every unwashed armpit, every person who didn’t wash their hands.
The worst part is the eyes.
I can feel every eye on me— watching, waiting, judging. I can feel them
tracing my curves, dragging across my body like it’s a piece of property for
sale. I developed young. It was like waking up one morning trapped inside
the body of a woman. Suddenly, all anyone could see was an ass and boobs.
How dare my body betray me like that?
There’s no law against looking, but dios, there should be. There really
should be.
Then again, if there was, I’d be out of a job.
Even though the Arena is packed, the crowd isn’t too bad where I’m
sitting. It’s another Snowhawks home game, but the laminated square
around my neck entitles me to special seats, set apart from even the regular
press section. Being team photographer has its perks.
The only people seated with me are my best friend Dakota— assistant
manager for the Houston Snowhawks— and Payton Lawson. Payton is the
team’s social media manager. She’s also the team captain’s little sister.
“Let’s go, Mita! Move,” Dakota shouts at the passing blur of a blue and
white jersey.
Dakota is wearing Kai Mita’s jersey. He’s our big bad defenseman, the
guy who loves to take a crowd apart one body at a time. He’s also Dakota’s
boyfriend. The last time Dakota dragged me out in public, Kai saved us
both from a very nasty crowd.
I’m not watching Kai, though. It’s my job to take pictures of the whole
team, but I’ve got my eye on one player in particular.
Parker Knight.
It’s hard to keep him in focus, too. Parker is fast on the ice, the fastest
player I’ve ever seen. Ever since Emerson Stone got injured, Parker has
been working hard to ensure everyone knows he wasn’t just given a spot.
He’s earned it.
I’m definitely not the only one watching him. The crowd reacts with a
sudden intake of breath as Parker lines up another shot.
Blocked. The crowd hisses and boos, but only my camera catches his
face. The look of dejection is palpable, like a dog that just got scolded. I
know the crowd is booing the other guy, but Parker is taking it to heart.
My heart aches for him.
It’s not the only piece of my anatomy that does.
Parker is scorching hot. Every guy on the team is built, muscular, and
solid. Impossibly tall. Emerson was the only exception, and now he’s
injured, coaching until he recovers. Parker is more than big, though. I’ve
photographed him without a shirt enough times to know. Six feet of pure,
honed muscle, Parker could model for a medical textbook.
I’d rather he model for me.
His eyes are hazel— the color of sunlight peeking through the fog on a
spring morning. His sandy brown hair is cropped close, and the dark
shadow of stubble clings to the sharp lines of his jaw. But it’s Parker’s smile
that captures my heart and my camera lens.
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