The Rookie Hawkeyes Series

Jon Paul Dumont is everything I was warned about in this league—talented, entitled, and fully aware of both. The NHL's favorite bad boy has left a trail of broken hearts from Montreal to San Diego, and a year ago, I was stupid enough to become one of them. Now he's signed with my father's team, the Seattle Hawkeyes, attempting a comeback after a career-threatening injury and a DUI charge that got him dropped from the Blue Devils.

All I wanted was a tiny interview to secure my podcast syndication deal. What I didn’t expect? That my big break would hinge on Hunter Reed—the NHL’s newest golden boy, full-time playboy, and the guy who mistook me for a puck bunny at Oakley’s bar. Hunter Reed is six-foot-two of attitude, muscle, and maddening charm. He’s the kind of clickbait fans obsess over and network execs would kill for—and exactly the kind of man I swore I’d never chase. Especially not after our less-than-stellar first encounter... and second... and third.

Trey Hartley doesn’t do helpless. Not in combat, not on the ice, and definitely not at home. But when his nanny ghosts him mid-season to backpack through Europe, he’s down a caregiver—with a nine-year-old niece, a packed hockey schedule, and zero backup plan. Enter Vivi Newport. CEO of Seattle’s top nanny agency. Total boss. And very much off the market.

Everyone in the league knows me as Dr. Kendall Hensen, Head Team Physician for the Seattle Hawkeyes. I keep it clinical. I keep it clean. And I definitely don’t date players—well... not anymore. Not since my ex-husband—a pro football player with more ego than loyalty—left me for a cheerleader and a faster life in Miami. These days, I tape ankles, manage injuries, and ignore locker room charm—especially from flirty Finnish wingers named Aleksi Makelin, who somehow always finds me in a crowd.

On the ice, they call me East—fast hands, sharp edges, zero hesitation. Off the ice? I keep my life simple. Hockey. Teammates. No complications I can’t skate away from. Unfortunately, I’m terrible at thinking things through—like the moment I agreed to a late-night pool bet with my teammate and accidentally ended up with a wife. Katerina Popovich isn’t the Russian ballerina I expected. She’s sharp, sarcastic, and entirely unimpressed by my NHL contract. She also happens to have a ticking visa deadline, a powerful family with opinions about her future, and zero patience for my chaos.