Filthy Goalie: A Grumpy Sunshine Forced Proximity Hockey Romance

I make the best pie in Minnesota. I did not make the six-foot-five wall of muscle who walked into my diner. Knox Kovak ordered black coffee like it owed him money. Then he looked at my mouth like he wanted to ruin it.Twelve NHL seasons. Two Cups. Ice-blue eyes that undress a room.I have ninety days to find $58,420.Or lose my grandmother's diner to a parking garage.He has nowhere to sleep. The inn flooded.I should have said no.I didn't.Now Iron Kovak fills my apartment. Shirtless. Prowling like he owns the air I breathe.He's grumpy. He's massive. He looks at me like he already knows how I taste. But wait.He tells me about his brother at two a.m. Voice wrecked. Hand fisted in my hair.I stop pretending this is a roommate situation.The way he pins me to the counter.The way he growls my name like a filthy secret...The way his hands find every place I ache... The way "coach" becomes the dirtiest word I've ever moaned...I'm about to lose my grandmother's diner.I might lose every good-girl rule I own to hockey's filthiest man instead.A steamy, dirty grumpy-sunshine hockey romance: forced proximity, age gap, a broken goalie who claims her hard. HEA.