Gabbi’s Goalie – Silver Spoon Falls Falcons Read Online Nichole Rose

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)

What we professional athletes. What we stick-wielding madmen who look good in blue, play hard, and love harder. It's a good thing this is Silver Spoon Falls because these hunky hockey players fit right in.

Welcome the Falcons to the roster! These over-the-top athletes are about to play the most important game of the game of love. And the sassy, curvy women of Silver Spoon Falls have no intention of going down without a fight.

Let the games begin!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One


"Holy shit." I fumble my stick, staring at the curvy blonde who just stepped into the player box with Jordan Sterling, owner of the Silver Spoon Falls Falcons. She's bundled up as if she's visiting the Arctic Circle, the faux fur from her parka framing her heart-shaped face. Her doe eyes dart everywhere as she takes in the action on the ice, watching with avid interest.

"Holy shit, what?" Noah Diamante cranes his neck, trying to see what I'm staring at.

"Don't look at her," I growl, stepping in front of him to block his view. She's mine. I saw her first.

It's a ridiculous, juvenile thought…and yet it screams loudly anyway.

She's mine. At least, she will be as soon as I can make it happen.

"What the fuck? I was just trying to figure out why you suddenly look all fucking weird," Noah mutters.

"I don't look weird."

Shit. Do I look weird?

I'm dressed in my practice gear...which basically means I look like the Michelin Man. Fuck my life. She looks like a little winter fairy. I look like the damn Michelin Man. Being a goalie is killing my vibe.

Oh, well. At least I'm a goddamn artist in a net.

"You look like you're constipated."

I turn a dirty scowl on Noah. "Why are we even friends?"

"Beats me. But if you want to know who she is, you’d better be nice to me." He smirks, his dark eyes alight with humor.

"You know her?"

"I know her name."

I wait for him to tell me, but when he doesn't cough up the intel, I growl, "What is it?"

"Gabbi Sterling."

My future wife's name is Gabbi Sterling.

"Wait a damn minute." My stomach sinks. "Sterling? As in–"

"Yep. She's Jordan Sterling's little sister." Noah smacks me on the back, laughing as he skates away. "Good luck with that, big guy."

Fucking hell. My future wife is related to the billionaire who owns the Falcons, more or less making him my boss.

I watch her for a long moment, trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to convince Jordan to let me run away with his sister. He strikes me as the overprotective type. Actually, scratch that. He doesn't strike me that way. He is that way, point blank, period. I saw him in action when some drunk asshole tried to get handsy with our physical therapist.

Let's just say the guy is no longer a fan of the home team or Jordan Sterling.

Gabbi glances in my direction and our eyes meet. Hers are endless pools of melted chocolate. A lightning bolt hits me right in the chest, sending electric shocks throughout my system. Her eyes widen as if she feels the same intense spark.

My body lights up like a livewire, my cup getting painfully tight as my dick hardens. A grin stretches across my face, unbidden. How can I not smile? I'm staring at my future and it's bright as hell.

She is not on the same page. She looks like she's staring at someone who makes her blood boil. And not in a good, sexy way. Her lips compress into a line as her little chin comes up. Pure ire filters through her expression, as if just the sight of me pisses her off.

What the fuck? What did I do?

I've only known she existed for two minutes. That's not nearly enough time for her to decide she hates me. She hasn't even officially met me yet. And not to brag or anything, but I'm fucking awesome.

I launch myself across the ice to work on proving it to her, all my attention focused on my end goal. I've never had an actual marriage fantasy in my life, but I'm hearing wedding bells.

Four of my teammates have gotten married in the last few months. Coach did too. A motherfucker is lonely and not afraid to admit it. Unlike a lot of guys in the league, I'm not interested in one-night stands or sowing wild oats or any of that shit. I want the same forever my parents found together when they were freshmen in college. I've just never found anyone who interested me enough to pursue it.

Looks like I just found out why.

"Jacks!" Miles Tempest shouts, his voice full of warning. "Look ou–"

Something cracks me in the back of the head hard enough to rattle my skull. Pain rips through my head, bringing tears to my eyes. I trip over my skates and fall hard.

I land on my back, staring up at the rafters far overheard.

Either I'm seeing shit, or there's actually a bird up there, flying around.

"Fuck!" Reid Lawless shouts. "Someone get Doc Jessup!"

"Atlas!" Noah skids to a stop, throwing up ice from his skates. He drops to his knees beside me, his worried face looming into focus above mine. "Talk to me, man."

I blink up at him, trying to think through the pounding headache. Jesus Christ. For a bookworm, Miles is a menace with a stick. That hurt like a son of a bitch.