Overview

There's one bed in the apartment above my garage. One heater. One blizzard. One NHL goalie who refuses to sleep on my couch. And he is six-foot-five. He bought my town. He refuses my pie. He pinned me to the diner counter at three in the morning last Thursday - one hand at my hip, one hand at the curve of my throat - and walked back out into the snow without saying a single word. The blizzard takes my power. He shows up at my door with a generator, a duffel bag, and a mouth that won't smile. The bed is too small. His thigh between my legs at 3 a.m. is not a thing I asked for. It is also not a thing I am asking him to move. But wait. He's been holding my mortgage. The eighty-seven-day deadline. The fifty-eight grand. The diner my grandmother left me. He bought my debt - and he didn't tell me. What's worse than a grumpy goalie who refuses pie? A grumpy goalie who has been quietly buying your life, one signature at a time. Open-door steam. Standalone with HEA. No cheating. No cliffhangers. Reader's Note: Knox doesn't talk much. He just shows up - with a generator, with a checkbook, with everything Maple has been holding alone for thirteen years. If you love grumpy heroes who would buy a whole town to keep one woman warm, you are going to want to come live in Frostbite Falls. One-click Filthy Goalie now - and curl up in Frostbite Falls.

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