Drop the Mitts: An opposites attract, slow burn hockey romance.

He's a bad idea wrapped in a smirk. And I've already made that mistake once.

I came back to Calgary for business, not pleasure. Settling my ex-husband's estate was supposed to be a simple, temporary detour-deal with the mess Troy Bowen left behind, finalize the paperwork, and leave.

Then I met André Leclerc.

Cocky. Infuriating. Too young by at least eight years. He's everything I should avoid with a reckless charm that reminds me too much of my past mistakes. He flirts like it's a game, makes ...