Christmas Cupid by Ilsa Madden-Mills EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Ilsa Madden-Mills
- Language: English
- Genre: Holiday Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Iris
There are too many men in this place, and it stinks like beer and old
grease.
Also…I don’t think the bartender is very happy with me. Actually,
based on the eye-daggers coming my way, I might as well have murdered
Wayne Gretzky.
“If you want to watch the home shopping network,” one of the men at the
bar quips, “you should stay home. This is a sports bar, lady.”
“My name is Iris,” I say as I point a cheese stick at him. “There are fifty
televisions in this place, all tuned to some sporting event. All I’m asking is if
you can please turn this one to something worthwhile? I’m a paying customer
too.” I tilt my head at my glass of mediocre Chablis.
“There’s a wine bar down the street, Iris,” one of them calls out.
I flip him off, and they scoff. At least that’s one way of ensuring none of
them attempt to hit on me. I am so not in the mood to entertain gross pick-up
lines from sports-obsessed goons.
Unfortunately, they don’t change the channel, so I have to watch some
former hockey pro squinting to read from the teleprompter, looking about as
comfortable in his suit as I’d look in a bodycon dress. I munch on the fried
cheese, savoring the melty texture as it hits my tongue. Yes, this place is
awful, but I can’t ding them for this tasty appetizer.
Someone turns up the volume, and I wince. Is it too much to ask for a bit
of news, some culture? Real Housewives is preferable to this dumb blather.
Luckily, one of them looks over my head and says, “Holy hell, is that
Slappy Miller?”
I spin on the barstool toward the door as the man in question comes in,
brushing raindrops off his broad shoulders, only to be instantly swallowed by
admirers. Not that it matters—he stands nearly seven feet tall, dwarfing them
all. He’s ruggedly handsome with auburn hair, a clipped cinnamon beard, and
a bruise on his forehead the size of a walnut, the result of a throwdown at
center ice during Thursday’s matchup against the Rangers. The defenseman
was a real prick, going for blood, so Slappy had every right to drop the
gloves, much to my mom’s horror.
Okay…I do know my way around a game. It’s pretty much cardinal law
growing up in the Miller household.
Eventually, the sea of admirers parts, and Nashville’s favorite hockey
player sidles up next to me, kissing my cheek as he leans in for a tight hug. I
sigh inwardly. He feels so nice. I’ve missed him. “Hey, Iris.”
“Impressive hat trick last game,” I say loudly as I pull back from him,
enjoying the open-mouthed awe of the sports freaks around me. I do a little
wave at one of them. Yeah, I know the famous guy, my eyes say gleefully.
“Eh, it was nothing.”
I smile. He’s humble, but he can’t stop beaming in the afterglow of the
Nashville Predators’ latest win. Once again, he was MVP.
Grabbing my glass and the rest of the cheese sticks, I slip off the stool as
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