My name is Poppy St. James, and I am going to kill Lukas Novikov! I've just landed my dream job as the director of public relations for the NHL's newest expansion team, the Jacksonville Rays, but the team owner has only granted me a one-year contract. If I want to stay, I'll have to prove myself. Easy. Public relations is in my blood.
But it turns out professional hockey players are a major handful. No one is a bigger pain in my side than party boy defenseman, Lukas Novikov. I don't care how well he plays hockey. Off the ice, he's a PR nightmare. Brash and bossy, he's always finding ways to drag his teammates into trouble. His favorite accomplice is fellow defenseman Colton Morrow.
The players can all call me PR Barbie if they want, but I'm getting the job done, and I'm doing it in three-inch heels. Because I am Poppy St. James-poised, powerful, and always professional . . . until the fateful night my phone rings.
One phone call from home leads to one drunken mistake. Now I'm staring down at a little blue plus sign and I have no idea where my carefully balanced life will lead next. All I know is that nothing will ever be the same.
Why You Should Read This Book
Tropes
Trigger Warnings
Pucking Sweet
“Obvious? Lukas, you just hard-launched our love triangle to my sister and all her friends! Without telling me first! Do you have any idea the shitstorm that little joke is gonna swirl me in?”
“We don’t have a lot of time to play and explore. What does my queen like? What gets you off?”
“Poppy, this is about you constantly lying down and allowing shitty things to happen to you, and I’m telling you it’s enough. Stop accepting less when you know you deserve more.”
“Such a good fucking girl. Look at you, taking my cock like a fucking champ. Your cunt is so tight. You fit me like a glove, baby.”
“I’ve died and come back three times over, Poppy. I know with a clarity most others lack that sometimes you only get one shot in this life. You have to be ready to take it when it comes. You have to be ready to fucking cherish it.”
“Lie to me again. Do it, Poppy. Make my fucking week. You love my jealousy. It turns you the fuck on, don’t even try denying it.”
“I’m not asking to date you. I’m just letting you know that you need to be kissed more often, and I’m willing to be the man to do it. Any time of the day or night. You need kissing? You come to me. Understand?”
“You’ve got this. Sit down, beautiful. Take me nice and slow. Ride me. Fucking own me. A queen on her throne.”
“I’m a freaking jellyfish. I’m a Poppy-fish. I’m a pushover.”
“You want this kept quiet while we all figure out what we are to each other? We’ll be quiet as the fucking grave. You want to sign the paperwork with HR and start wearing our jerseys to our games? I’ll buy a house and move you into my bed tomorrow. All options are on the table here. All eventualities. Have us together, have us apart, it’s whatever the fuck you want. But you will have us, Poppy. Because not having you is no longer a fucking option.”
“I’m not mad at you, I’m mad for you.”
“Such a good fucking girl. A queen on her knees. You’re ours. Branded with our cum. We’ll take such good care of you.”
“This position being philandering manwhore. Just say it, Poppy.”
“When he breaks your heart, come find me, okay? I’ll be waiting.”
“I’m not above treating these grown men like naughty children.”
“You’re not a game to me, Poppy. Or if you are, you’re the endgame. You’re it. That’s what ‘playing for keeps’ means. It means this is not catch-and-release. I catch you; I fucking keep you. I love you, and marry you, and follow you to the ends of the fucking earth.”
“Your body is a gift. You tell us what’s allowed, and we’ll thank you for it.”
“And you’re a ball-busting harpy witch. But you’re also so gorgeous you knock the air out of my chest when you walk in the fucking room.”
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