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About Rebel Bride

Summer I can’t marry him. I have no good reason to jilt my hockey player fiancé, except that the closer we get to the big day, the more I feel myself shrinking to a hollow shell. Two minutes after I slip into the church bathroom to calm my pre-wedding jitters, I jump out the window to make my escape . . . and land on Hatch Kershaw, my fiancé’s teammate on the Chicago Rebels. This guy has always hated me for reasons I can’t fathom. Half the time he looks right through me, like I’m no better than the ice shavings on his skate blades. The other half? That brooding green gaze strips me bare and sees right into my soul. Neither option is good for me, so I really shouldn’t want his help . . . should I? Hatch The bride hit me like a ton of bricks. The last thing I expected was for my teammate’s bride to ask for my help in fleeing her wedding. Make that the second last—even more unexpected is that I said “yes.” Before I know it, I’ve driven her to my family’s vacation home because I’m a nice guy and she needs to catch her breath. Only now, I can’t breathe around her. Summer Landry and I have never hit it off, so why the hell am I going along with this madness? Every stolen glance and accidental touch tell me she’s off-limits, while each torturous second with her in our lakeside hideaway has me questioning everything I thought I knew about who she is and what she’s hiding. No one can know what I did—not my teammate, not my family, not the media—or all hell will break loose. Most of all, Summer can never know why I dislike her so much. Because if she did, I might not recover.