"Sweater Weather [swet-er weth-er]
Noun: A slang term meaning hockey season used exclusively by the Fulton University hockey team and their fans.
Saffron Briggs—Fulton University's newest pitcher—hates me. I shouldn't like that fact, but I do. Maybe too much. She claims I'm not her type, which is ridiculous. There's a reason they call me Levi 'Sexy' Sexton . . . I'm everyone's type. And thanks to my dad, who just happens to be her softball coach, I'll get my chance to thaw out the ice queen. I'm her new tutor, so she has no choice but to spend time with me. It may be Sweater Weather, but I'll make time to show her what a god I am. On and off the ice.
Levi Sexton—captain of the FU hockey team and my new tutor—drives me crazy. The man has zero boundaries. He doesn't care that I have a boyfriend, that I'm friends with his sisters, or that I don't like him. And I don't. Not even a little. Not when he's winking at me from the ice or when he's telling me how good I look in his hockey sweater and especially not when he's kissing me, which he absolutely should not be doing.
And definitely not when I find myself kissing him back.
I'm pretty sure Sweater Weather isn't supposed to be this hot."
"The first rule at Hockey House? Don't touch the Sexton twins. Correction: don't even look at them. But if doesn't happen at Hockey House, is it still breaking the rules?
Maeve Sexton is off-limits. But her last name is the least of my problems. Not only is she my best friend's little sister, but her brother is also my teammate and roommate. She's the trifecta of off-limits. Technically.
It's not Benny Hayes' fault that he was asked to chaperone my softball team's trip. And he didn't volunteer to keep a close eye on me for my brother. But he sure as h-e-double hockey sticks didn't say no. Our close proximity and late-night swims only add fuel to the fire between us. The taboo factor making it burn a even hotter. Will we ignore the obstacles and keep things going when we get home? Or will we leave it all under the arena lights?"
"They say age doesn't matter. I could argue that it does. The ten years separating Stella Cruz and I matter a whole hell of a lot. She has a year of college left—two entire semesters to enjoy being the star pitcher of Fulton University—and I have another Cup to win. Hockey leaves no room for anything else, not even someone as incredible as Stella. So, I left her in my bed. Out of sight, out of . . . sight. Because I damn sure can't get her out of my mind.
Everyone says time heals all wounds. That's a lie. Six months ago, Jason Dagger left me in Boston after one of the best weekends of my life. Shut me down when I tried to reach out. He didn't call, didn't text, didn't even wave at the camera when it panned over to him during one of his hockey games. Nothing . . . until he shows up at my job one night demanding and sexy. Jason's back and he's not making anything easy for me. I don't know if I'm happy or mad about it."
