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One text to the wrong number…mine…and everything changed.
He won’t tell me his last name, and maybe that should throw up a thousand red flags, but when I’m all alone in a new city and struggling to make ends meet, his texts are the lifeline I’ve been desperate for.
But I never would have answered that text if I’d known that Lincoln Daniels, superstar hockey player extraordinaire was the one sending them.
He’s trying to sweep me off my feet now. He says he’s obsessed.
He wants me wearing his number…permanently.
The question is…is he still the wrong number, or can this hockey god prove he’s Mr. Right?
