USA Today bestselling author Rebecca Norinne believes every great love story should bring the heat and make you swoon. When not banging away at the keyboard, you can find her cheering on Leinster Rugby, playing strategy board games, or planning her next vacation.

Originally from California, Rebecca lives near Boston in a house built in the 1700s with her wonderful husband and two adorable cats. And yes, there is a ghost.

You can reach her by email at rebecca@rebeccanorinne.com or follow her on Instagram.

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One more season. One last secret.

I’ve spent fifteen years in the NHL hiding who I really am. One more season—head down, mouth shut, lies firmly in place—and I can retire with my secret intact. Then Stryker Bell crashes into my life.

He’s got hands of gold, a mouth made for sin, and a body that moves like a promise. Ten years younger, he’s cocky, reckless, and everything I shouldn’t want. My problem. My obsession. My undoing.

We clash from the start. But no matter how hard I try to keep my distance, Bell doesn’t back off. He crowds my space. Smirks like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Every glance feels like foreplay. Every brush of contact, a dare.

And after a brutal loss on the road, I break. One raw, desperate moment, and I’ve got him pinned to the wall, my mouth on his like I’ve been starving for a taste.

Now I’m playing the most dangerous game of my career—falling for the rookie who makes me feel more alive than I ever have, while battling trauma I’ve buried so deep I almost believed it was gone.

I want him, but those old demons don’t let go easy. They’ve got their hands around my throat, whispering every lie I’ve ever believed about what it would cost to be open.

And Bell? He refuses to be anyone’s dirty little secret.

He’s my idol. Now I’m his secret.

I had Ethan Harrison’s hockey poster taped to my bedroom wall growing up. Now he’s my teammate—and the most infuriating, closed-off man I’ve ever met. All clenched jaws, surly grunts, and brooding stares.

And yet, something about the way he watches me when he thinks no one’s looking makes me want to break him wide open. Crack that perfect composure.

Every lingering glance. Every loaded silence. Every time he pulls away like he’s scared of what will happen if he lets me in—it feels like it’s building to something inevitable.

So when he finally backs me against the wall and kisses me like he’s starving? I know I’ve been right all along. The tension, the looks, the armor he hides behind—it was never just in my head.

He might bark out orders on the ice, but behind closed doors? He’s the one who begs for me to touch him, make him come undone. Who gasps my name, and needs it rough, slow, and real.

I want all of Ethan, but if he won’t choose me, I’ll have no choice but to walk away. I didn’t fight like hell to stand in the light just to be someone’s dirty little secret.