Max (Cold Fury Hockey 6)

This one goes out to my Bennett's Bestie Betas and dear friends Darlene, Janett, Beth, Karen, and Lisa. Thank you for energizing me and the amazing feedback that helped me make Max, in my humble opinion, the best Cold Fury book yet.

By Sawyer Bennett

COLD FURY HOCKEY SERIES

Alex

Garrett

Zack

Ryker

Hawke

Max

Roman (coming soon)

THE SUGAR BOWL SERIES

Sugar Daddy Sugar Rush Sugar Free

THE WICKED HORSE SERIES

Wicked Fall Wicked Lust Wicked Need Wicked Ride Wicked Bond

THE OFF SERIES

Off Sides Off Limits Off the Record Off Course Off Chance Off Season Off Duty

THE LAST CALL SERIES

On the Rocks Make It a Double Sugar on the Edge With a Twist Shaken Not Stirred

THE LEGAL AFFAIRS SERIES

Legal Affairs Confessions of a Litigation God Friction Clash

Grind

Yield

STAND-ALONE TITLES

If I Return Uncivilized Love: Uncivilized Sex, Lies and Rock & Roll

PHOTO: MARIE KILLEN

Since the release of her debut contemporary romance novel, SAWYER BENNETT has written more than thirty books and has been featured on both the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists on multiple occasions. A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Sawyer uses real life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to contemporary romance, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone. Sawyer likes her Bloody Marys strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active toddler, as well as full-time servant to two adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the good of others, and that a bad day can be cured with a great workout, cake, or a combination of the two.

sawyerbennett.com

Facebook.com/ bennettbooks

@BennettBooks

Read on for an excerpt from

Roman

A Cold Fury Hockey Novel

by Sawyer Bennett

Available from Loveswept

I pull open the glass door that leads into the Cold Fury executive office suite. It's posh and sumptuous, with its thick cream carpet and sleek European furniture. It tells the story of exactly how much money is generated by this organization.

My eyes immediately land on a young woman sitting on a low-slung, gray leather couch set up against the far wall. She has one leg crossed over the other and her head is bent down over her phone, upon which she is texting. I can't see her face as her dark hair forms a curtain with her head bent down and is obstructing the view. She's dressed very casually in a pair of dark jeans, fuzzy-looking boots, and a heavy cream wool sweater. There's a navy wool coat sitting beside her on the couch.

"Can I help you?" I hear a smooth female voice say from the reception desk.

My gaze turns that way and I come under the cool appraisal of a stern-looking older woman with pale blond hair pulled back from her face in a tight bun. "Roman Sykora. Got an appointment with Gray Brannon."

The woman actually sniffs at me and says, "You're fifteen minutes late, Mr. Sykora."

"Yup," I tell her before turning away and walking to a chair that sits adjacent to the gray couch. Nothing else really needs to be said about that. I'm chronically late and will probably be that way until the day I die.

Just before I take a seat I hear the receptionist say from behind me, "Ms. Robertson...Mr. Brannon is just finishing up his ten o'clock appointment and should be with you shortly. I apologize he's running late."

The woman sitting on the couch lifts her face, looks right past me to the receptionist and gives a small smile with a nod. "That's quite all right. I don't mind waiting."

And damn...what a face. Creamy, flawless skin with silvery blue eyes that absolutely pop against the dark lashes surrounding them. She lifts her hand and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear, and then I'm stunned when her gaze slides over to me. She gives a slight nod toward the reception desk, leans her body a little closer toward my chair and whispers, "Seems like a double standard to me."

"Double standard?" I ask with confusion, and more than a little fascinated by the husky, almost raspy tone of her voice.

She grins at me, which draws attention to her lips. Full, pink, and pulled back to reveal sparkling white teeth with a tiny gap right in the middle. Totally sexy.

"Well, yeah," she says as she lowers her voice in a more conspiratorial tone. "It's okay for management to be late to a meeting with me, but it's not okay for you to be a few minutes late with management?"

She's got a damn good point.

I, in turn, lean toward her as if we are sharing a great secret. I also drop my voice, not because I care if the receptionist hears me, because let's face it--I don't give a shit what anyone in this organization thinks about me--but because I'm merely enjoying my banter with this really pretty woman.

"I think you may have isolated the issue," I tell her, my Czech accent coming on a little bit thicker only because I've slowed my words down a bit. "You and I are not management, therefore we do not enjoy the privilege of being able to be late. We are too far down on the...what do you call it...totem pole?"

The woman nods in agreement and gives me a wink. "Definitely at the bottom of the totem pole."

I think about introducing myself to her, as I'm not sure she knows who I am. She's clearly sitting here in the lobby of the Cold Fury executive office suite, but that doesn't necessarily mean she knows hockey. For all I know, she could be here selling Girl Scout cookies.

But before I can even push my hand toward her, the receptionist behind me says, "Mr. Sykora, Miss Brannon is ready to see you now."

With a sigh, I push myself up out of the chair, and the woman gives me another smile and says, "Good luck. I hope you're not in too much trouble."

I give her a grin, and a wink of my own. "Unfortunately, I have a feeling I am in quite a bit of trouble."

Her jaw drops open slightly and her eyes round in sympathy, but before she can even extend her sympathies, I lean over to her and whisper, "But it's nothing to worry about. I'm sort of a troublemaker."

Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she nods in grave understanding, "I can kind of tell that about you. But hey, you carry it really well."

"And don't you forget it," I say with a chuckle as I turn from her to face the receptionist. She laughs softly behind me, and with that raspy, grit from her vocal chords...yeah, it's totally sexy.

But the minute I face the receptionist and she points me down the hall toward the executive offices, I put the woman and all her sexy ways out of my mind. I stiffen my spine as I walk toward Gray Brannon's office because I know I'm getting ready to have my ass handed to me.

"She's the office at the end of the hall," the receptionist says smoothly.

I don't even acknowledge her because frankly her attitude is snotty and doesn't deserve an acknowledgment. I merely stride down the hall until I reach Gray's office door, which is open. With a slight tap of my knuckles against the wood, I announce myself and stick my head in.

Gray Brannon is the general manager for the Carolina Cold Fury hockey team. This is her second year in the position and she is proudly sporting a Stanley Cup Championship under her belt. This is also my second year with the team, as I was added on last year after Gray took over management. I owe a lot to her for her faith in me, believing I could be a great contribution to this team.

However, just because I'm grateful to her does not mean I'm going to take her shit or change my ways.

Gray lifts her head from some documents she's reviewing on her desk, and for a brief moment I'm captivated by the sheer beauty of this woman. I've never been a fan of redheads, but I have to say Gray Brannon wears the color well and her face is almost angelic. So yeah, our ge

neral manager is hot as hell, but she's also fucking brilliant at her job, and while I'm sure every man on this team has eyeballed her in a way a man will look at a gorgeous woman, she is more than respected for her abilities to do right by this organization.