Teagan:When my cousin roped me into watching his NHL player's daughter, I didn't think twice.What I didn't factor in: six-foot-three, broad shoulders that strain every seam, forearms that deserve their own zip code, and a jaw that should be illegal in all fifty states. He's the most beautiful, maddening man I've ever met.The way he walks into his kitchen in nothing but glasses and low-slung sweatpants? Unfair.He communicates in grunts. Holds his daughter like he's afraid of her. It irritates me and breaks my heart.I tell myself I keep coming back for the baby. That part's true.It's just not the whole truth anymore. Knox:Teagan fills every room she walks into. Loud and warm and relentless, like she hasn't learned yet that the world doesn't always give back what you put into it.She looks at me like she hasn't decided whether to throat punch me or kiss me. Not that I can blame her.Every reserve I have goes to Briar, hockey, and getting through the day without thinking about everything I lost and everything I owe. A woman like Teagan deserves someone whole. Someone who still has words.What I don't count on is her staying anyway.Or what it does to me when she does. Marianne Rice writes contemporary romantic fiction set in small New England towns. She loves high heels, reading romance, scarfing down dark chocolate, gulping wine, and Chris Hemsworth. Oh, and her husband and three children. You can follow her all over social media, and keep up to tabs with her latest releases on her website: www.mariannerice.com
