{"product_id":"a-brooklyn-bruisers-novelisbn-9780399583438","title":"A Brooklyn Bruisers Novel","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe first novel in a sexy series featuring the hockey players of the Brooklyn Bruisers and the women who win their hearts—from the \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Ivy Years series.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eIn high school they were the perfect couple—until the day Georgia left Leo in the cold...\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hockey player Leo Trevi has spent the last six years trying to do two things: get over the girl who broke his heart, and succeed in the NHL. But on the first day he’s called up to the newly franchised Brooklyn Bruisers, Leo gets checked on both sides, first by the team’s coach—who has a long simmering grudge, and then by the Bruisers’ sexy, icy publicist—his former girlfriend Georgia Worthington.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Saying goodbye to Leo was one of the hardest things Georgia ever had to do—and saying hello again isn’t much easier. Georgia is determined to keep their relationship strictly professional, but when a press conference microphone catches Leo declaring his feelings for her, things get really personal, really fast....\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eRookie Move\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Engaging characters, a well-handled plot, and simmering sexual tension make this laughter-tinged second-chance-at-love romance a hot, lively read.”—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This sexy read is the first in Bowen’s Brooklyn Bruisers series, and it tackles the popular sport-romance genre with ease, promising more fun Bruisers novels to come.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“The sexual and emotional tension between Georgia and Leo is taut, while their complicated past and present conflicts are potent and heart-wrenching. Bowen shines in a new hockey series that successfully spins off her highly popular new-adult Ivy Years titles.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e Bestselling Author Sarina Bowen\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A fantastically gifted storyteller. She bolsters every story with emotional power, humor and heart. I’m a huge fan and she’s at the top of my auto-buy list. Everyone should be reading her books!”—Lorelei James, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A master at drawing you in from page one and leaving you aching for more.”—Elle Kennedy, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Bowen writes great dialogue and wonderfully realistic characters.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eSarina Bowen\u003c\/b\u003e is a \u003ci\u003eUSA Today \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of contemporary romance, including the Brooklyn Bruisers series, the Ivy Years series, and the Gravity series. She lives in Vermont’s Green Mountains with her family, six chickens, and too much ski gear and hockey equipment.\u003cb\u003eOne\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eFriday, January 29th\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e31 Days Before the NHL Trade Deadline\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eBrooklyn, New York\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Top Team Headline: “Will the Brooklyn Bruisers Name a Coach At Last? Press Conference      Called for 10 am” (\u003ci\u003eNew York Post\u003c\/i\u003e)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cobblestone streets did not pair well with high heels. So Georgia      Worthington took her time walking to work through Brooklyn's Dumbo      neighborhood.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Luckily, the office was just another block away. Her job didn't      often call for heels and a suit, but today she needed to look      authoritative. That wasn't easy when you were      five-feet-three-inches tall, and every athlete and coach in the      Brooklyn Bruisers organization towered over you. Today she'd need      those extra inches. The press conference she'd planned would prove      to the organization that they didn't need to hire another senior      publicist to replace her boss, who had left two months ago.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Every day that went by with Georgia at the helm of the hockey      team's PR effort was a victory. She only needed a little more time      to prove she could handle the job alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Just like she needed a little more practice time in these shoes.      Georgia was practically invincible in a pair of tennis shoes. She      could serve a ball down the court at a hundred miles per hour. She      could dive toward the net for a short shot, return the ball, and      then pivot in any direction. But walking down Water Street in her      only pair of three-inch Pradas? That was a challenge.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was a sunny February morning, and a stiff breeze blew off the      East River, though Brooklyn was especially beautiful at this hour,      when the slanting sunshine gave the brick facades a rosy hue and      sparkled off each antique windowpane. She turned (carefully) onto      Gold Street, quickening her pace toward the office. The doormen of      the buildings she passed were in the midst of their morning      routine-sweeping the sidewalks, hosing off any filth that may have      landed there in the night. That was more or less what she'd done      herself for the past few years-leaning hard into the morning      sunshine, banishing the darkness into the well-scrubbed corners of      her mind.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In two hours she would host a press conference where the team's      owner would announce that the newest NHL franchise had finally      anointed a new head coach. She'd set the whole thing up by      herself, and it needed to go off flawlessly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They all had a lot riding on this announcement. As the youngest      team in the conference, the team needed the visibility. It had      been not quite two years since Georgia's boss had bought the Long      Island franchise and rebranded it as a Brooklyn team. It was a      risky maneuver, one that many sports pundits had already decided      would fail.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As if the stakes weren't high enough for Georgia already, the new      coach just happened to be her father. After twenty years coaching      college teams and then a stint as assistant defensive coach for      the Rangers, he'd just agreed to take the riskiest NHL job in the      nation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Having your dad show up and outrank you at the office wasn't      exactly a dream come true. But Georgia had always been close to      her father, and she knew this was a big step for him. She was just      going to have to make the best of it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And anyway, he was a tough coach, and she wanted her boys to win,      right? No, she needed them to win. There was a chorus of voices      ready to write the team off as a failure. They said the tristate      area had too many hockey teams. They said the Internet billionaire      who'd bought the team didn't know what he was doing. It was      Georgia's job to help combat all those unwanted opinions with a      polished public image.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Their critics were wrong, anyway. In the first place, there could      never be too many hockey teams. And she'd seen signs that the      young owner knew exactly what he was doing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She climbed the steps to the team's headquarters and tugged on the      brass handle. Georgia wasn't ashamed to admit that she loved the      office building with the glee that other people reserved for      obsessing over a new lover. She liked the weight of the big wooden      door in her hand, and the golden sheen of the wooden floors      inside. Like many of the buildings in this neighborhood, their      headquarters had been a factory at the turn of the century. The      team's owner-Internet billionaire Nate Kattenberger-had bought it      as a wreck and had had every inch of it lovingly restored. Every      time she stepped into this entryway, with its exposed brick walls      and its old soda lamps overhead, she felt lucky.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Just inside the entry hall hung a wall-mounted screen showing      clips of the boys winning in Toronto. Back when she'd just started      as the publicity and marketing assistant, Georgia had edited that      film herself. It gave her a private thrill to know that the first      thing every visitor to headquarters saw was her handiwork.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Working for the Bruisers was her first job out of college. She'd      landed it when Nate Kattenberger had just begun his tenure as      owner. He'd fired nearly everyone from the old franchise and      started fresh. That was a bad deal for the lifers, of course, but      pretty lucky for a twenty-two-year-old new graduate. In the early      days she'd done everything from fetching coffee to answering      phones to arranging photo shoots.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Nate still referred to her as Employee Number Three. You had to      know Nate to understand that the nickname was a high form of      praise. At Internet companies, being an early employee was a      status symbol.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Georgia didn't care if she was Employee Number Three or number      333. But she really wanted to hang on to the top post in      publicity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When the senior publicist quit eight weeks ago to move to      California with his boyfriend, Georgia was given his job on an      interim basis. But so far the general manager (Employee Number      Two) had been too busy trading players before the deadline to shop      around for a more seasoned PR replacement.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e At twenty-four years old, she was (at least temporarily) the      senior publicist of an NHL franchise.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Pinch me, she thought as her heels clicked importantly on the      shellacked floors. From the lobby, a girl could follow the      left-hand passageway toward the athletic facility and the      brand-new practice rink that Kattenberger had built. But Georgia      went the other way, toward the office wing on the right. The      double doors in her path were made from wavy old bottle glass, and      she loved the way they gave the hallway beyond an underwater sheen      until she pushed open the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The first sound she heard on the other side of the door was her      father's voice. And he was yelling.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Uh-oh.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Later, when she reran the events of the day in her mind, she'd      remember this as the moment when the wheels came off. And it      wasn't even nine o'clock yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why am I even here?\" her father hollered. \"You said I'd have veto      power over your trades. But I'm in the building ten fucking      minutes when I find out that you took a player I don't want?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Actually,\" another voice began. Georgia knew that voice, too. It      belonged to Nate, the thirty-two-year-old owner of the team. The      self-made billionaire had built a browser search engine in his      dorm room eleven years ago which was now active on eight hundred      million mobile devices.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Nate started a great many of his sentences with the word      \"actually.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Actually,\" he said again, \"we grabbed this player one day before      you stepped into the building. Totally our prerogative. Read your      contract.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I shouldn't have to read my fucking contract!\" her dad hollered.      \"I put my whole career on the line to lead a team that everyone      thinks will fail. You said, Trust me, Karl. I need you, Karl. And      then you pull this crap?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Legally . . .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"'Legally' is for pussies. That's some underhanded shit you just      pulled, and a real man admits that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Oh Jesus no. She began skating in her heels toward Mr.      Kattenberger's office, hoping to end this conversation. Calling      the owner's manhood into question was not a good strategy. The      boss was a little touchy about that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Okay, a lot touchy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When she rounded the corner into the outer office, her heart dove.      She counted two or three bodies as she passed by them in a blur.      If any of them were reporters, they'd just overheard every ugly      word of the argument in Nate Kattenberger's office. If any of them      recorded this dustup, her week had just gotten twice as long.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She ripped open the door to Nate's office and slid inside.      \"Gentlemen,\" she said quietly. As she feared, the two men were      staring each other down, shoulders squared as if for battle. They      were an interestingly mismatched pair-Nate with his steely eyes      and his five thousand dollar suit on a lean frame, versus her      square-jawed jock of a dad with his military haircut and      I-eat-men-like-you-for-breakfast snarl.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Princess!\" her father barked. \"I didn't know you worked for a      weasel.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Coach,\" she warned. She'd decided ahead of time that she would      call him Coach at work. Because calling her own father by his      first name was just weird. And calling someone \"Dad\" at the office      was not good for a girl's image. \"Listen to me,\" she begged. \"We      are expecting thirty or forty reporters in this building today.      And there are people out there listening to you two chew each      other up. That's not what we want in the sports section tomorrow.      So you can have this argument using your inside voices.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"He just . . .\" Nate began.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Georgia held up a hand. \"Your publicist says to tone it down right      now, or I'm sending both of you to the penalty box.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They stared each other down while she held her breath. Her father      folded his meaty arms in front of his chest. \"We're not finished      with this conversation,\" he hissed. \"If that kid's contract is      unsigned, I'm tearing it up.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Too late!\" Nate said cheerily as her father's lip curled. \"They      sent us a scan of the signed file last night. Georgia, please add      our newest player to your press release. We'll have two additions      to the Bruisers to announce today.\" He reached across his desk and      handed her a file folder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, captain.\" The boss had a thing for Star Trek, too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her father gave her a look. But what else could she say? Georgia      and the big boss had a great relationship, and that was because      she'd figured out early on that Nate had no idea how to be a team      player. When you make your first billion while other college kids      are playing beer pong, it's the social skills that suffer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And she'd warned her father that Nate was egotistical. You have to      handle Nate. And shouting at him always failed. So she gave her      father a look right back. We talked about this, she telegraphed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He's such an asshole, his sneer replied.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And it was probably true. But when she looked at Nate she saw a      kid who'd been shoved into lockers during high school. And now he      wanted the last laugh, taking every opportunity to throw his      (nerdy) weight around. He'd bought a hockey team, and he was going      to make the jocks do his bidding, at least until the day he      realized that vindication wasn't everything in life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Now,\" she said quietly. \"Let's go over the announcement.\" She set      her leather briefcase on the corner of Nate's egotistically sized      desk and pulled a folder from the outside pocket. From inside, she      pulled a page for each of them. \"Nate will introduce you, Coach. I      have him leading with your win record at the college level,      because it's pretty spectacular.\" She winked at her father and saw      him relax by a degree or two. \"Then we'll hit your NHL years, for      depth . . .\" From her coat pocket, her phone began dancing a jig.      There was too much going on this morning to ignore it. \"Sorry, one      sec.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She pulled out the phone and took a peek at its massive screen.      Everyone who worked for Kattenberger was issued a big-screened,      turbofast, ubersecure phone that Nate had designed himself. The      call she'd received wasn't business, though. It was from her old      friend DJ. It wasn't until after she rejected the call that she      realized his timing was a little odd. DJ never called her at work.      It made her worry that today's big announcement had already leaked      to the media.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e God, she hoped it hadn't.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Georgia,\" her father grumbled, breaking her train of thought,      \"was this the shirt you meant for me to wear with this tie?\" Her      father tugged at his half Windsor knot. The tie was purple, of      course-the team color. Georgia had messengered it to her childhood      home out on Long Island yesterday. The fact that she still bought      her father's clothes for him was not something she wanted to put      in a press release. But Georgia's mother had passed away when she      was six years old, and her father did not like to shop.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You look dashing.\" She smiled at him, hoping he'd lighten up.      \"Now, can you two play nicely together until after the press      conference? It's either that, or you need to double my salary,      because I'll have to work twenty-four hours a day to undo the      damage.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Coach Worthington sighed. \"I won't shout anymore. But we can't      keep this player.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Bullshit,\" Nate hissed. \"The kid is good. And I got him cheap.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Quiet!\" she whispered. \"I'm begging you both. Now I need to head      into my office for half an hour, before we're overrun with      reporters. Stay out of trouble until the press conference, okay?      I'll fetch you right before I speak to the players.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her father set his jaw into a grim expression of acceptance.      Georgia was fairly certain he wouldn't start yelling again when      she left the room. He was passionate, but he was smart, too.      \"Okay, honey.\" He put a meaty palm on her shoulder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Unfortunately, she picked up her heavy briefcase at just the same      time, and the weight of his hand destabilized her. \"Whoa,\" she      said as she teetered on the stilts that passed for her shoes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her father reacted fast, catching her by the elbow before she      could fall down. \"Christ, Princess! Are you okay? Should you be      wearing those things? I thought you swore off heels after that      incident at your eighth grade graduation . . .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Nate snickered behind his desk, and Georgia felt her face flush.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She stood up straight again. \"Coach, a favor? Don't call me      Princess at work.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her father tucked the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder,      the way you would for someone who was about five years old.      \"Sorry, Miss Worthington.\" He grinned. Then he pecked her on the      cheek.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303026610405,"sku":"NP9780399583438","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399583438.jpg?v=1730752786","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/a-brooklyn-bruisers-novelisbn-9780399583438","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}