Love on the Slopes

Publisher: Cardinal Press, LLC

Formats: eBook, print 

ASIN: TBD

ISBN: TBD

 

He ruined her reputation—now she wants nothing to do with him.

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Love on the Slopes


He ruined her reputation—now she wants nothing to do with him.

Brynn Windham loves being a member of the US Ski Team. But after learning a disturbing family secret, she loses her focus and puts her spot on the team in jeopardy. Her coach assigns a skier to help Brynn regain her competitive edge. Unfortunately, the one person who can help her is the last person she trusts. 

Ryland Guyer might be the heir to his family’s sportswear company, but skiing is his priority. As he recovers from an injury, his coach asks him to help another skier salvage her season. The only problem? He and Brynn have history. They haven’t spoken in five years, and he doubts she’ll want to talk to him now.

Not wanting to give up on her dream, Brynn struggles with skiing and Ryland. He wants to make amends for the hurt he caused her and start over, but being around him stirs up old feelings and new, deeper ones emerge. Being on her own is better…safer. But he isn't ready to give up on her. Or them.

With a mountain of struggles to face, can Brynn and Ryland learn to forgive so they can reach the top—together?

Read an Excerpt


Brynn’s snow boots clomped against the day lodge floor like cement blocks. She’d changed out of her practice gear but moved slow, trying not to limp. Her hip ached. She’d caught an edge, and the fresh snow couldn’t cushion the hard fall. Her bruise, however, hadn’t hurt as much as Coach Frederick yelling at her and then telling her to talk to Ryland Guyer. She’d skied straight to Coach Tolliver and asked if she had to speak with him. Tolliver had said do it.

An elephant pressed on Brynn’s chest. Anxiety spiraled.

Not what she needed before a make-or-break competition.

Don’t panic.

A few minutes spent with the last person she wanted to talk to again wouldn’t matter. She needed to grab a coffee first. The heat would warm her. The caffeine would clear her head.

She needed a podium finish in the super combined. No, a win.

W-I-N.

In both the downhill and slalom portions to prove she should stay on the team.

So what if she’d had the worst season ever? Finishing a race had become a reason to celebrate, no matter what place she ended up in the standings. People whispered her career was over. Washed up at twenty-four. She hadn’t met the team criteria though she’d been close. Many assumed her name would be left off the upcoming season’s nomination list.

No giving up.

Skiing was her life, and the US Ski Team was her family. The only one she had left besides two of her siblings. Forget the place she used to call home with her mom, dad, and five older brothers. That no longer existed, never had really. She couldn’t lose her spot on the team.

Wouldn’t.

A solid showing might earn her a coach’s discretion and keep her on the team. That meant racing her best this week. She didn’t need help from Guyer.She pulled off her gloves and shoved them into her parka’s pockets.

Her cell phone buzzed. She read the text.

Jax: How did practice go?

Of course her brother would be checking up on her. Better answer or he would call. She typed a reply.

Brynn: Cold, but good.

Jax: Everything else okay?

Her heart squeezed. No, but she couldn't tell him the truth. She hated keeping secrets from her brothers, Jax and Ace. She’d always been closest to them, the two youngest of the five boys. Both played professional hockey, Jax for the NHL and Ace for the AHL. They had no trouble dragging problems out of her, even long distance, but this time, Brynn had to manage without their advice. She typed.

Brynn: All is well. Ready to race.

Jax: Great. Time to hit the ice.

Her brother must have practice. She tucked the phone into her pocket.

“Brynn.”

Chills shot down her arms. Guyer.

Ryland Guyer had broken her heart when she was nineteen, crumbling the pedestal she’d put him on and turning her crush on him to dust. He’d been twenty-three, fresh from medaling at the Games in Sochi and hot, oh-so-hot. He’d seemed perfect. A Prince Charming, who slayed black diamond slopes.

Only he wasn’t.

She’d been naïve, taking him to his room when she’d found him outside in the falling snow, but he’d been so drunk she’d worried about leaving him alone. She’d been young and stupid then. Way too starstruck and trusting. Lesson learned. One she’d shared with female teammates. A few others had a drunk Ry-Guy story. Only none of them had had their reputation ruined by his lies about what had happened in the hotel room that night.

Such a jerk.

“Brynn,” he repeated.

Pressing her lips together, she squared her shoulders and turned toward his voice. Her gaze collided with blue eyes, beautiful ones surrounded by thick lashes. His all-American good looks, the kind found on movie screens and glossy magazine covers, were more appealing than ever. No man had a right to be so attractive. A scruff of whiskers gave his handsome face a rugged edge.

Sexy.

Her pulse kicked up, racing as if she were speeding down the mountain, not standing inside a warm lodge with the aroma of coffee lingering in the air.

Stop.

No reason to overreact. He hadn’t changed. Pretty packaging, yes, but remove the wrapping and nothing was underneath but a rock-hard body. He was a player. Zero heart and compassion. A guy who thought she’d had sex with him once and would again when he hadn’t even remembered her name.

Loser.

And a liar.

Waiting, he stared at her.

Oh, yeah.Her turn to speak.

Brynn cleared her thick throat. “Hey.”

Guyer sat at a table by himself. His brown hair was longer than the short style he usually wore. His sweater showed off wide shoulders. Maybe the navy color was why his eyes appeared bluer. The lines around the corners of his eyes were more visible. Hard living did that to a person. Not that she cared what he did to himself unless his actions affected the team.

“Did Coach Frederick talk to you?” Guyer asked.

“Yes, but—”

He laughed.

The wicked sound curled her toes, annoying her more. She shouldn’t be reacting to him.

“I knew there would be a but,” he said.


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