Back Loud Mouth
Chapters (24)
  1. Dedication
  2. Chapter One
  3. Chapter Two
  4. Chapter Three
  5. Chapter Four
  6. Chapter Five
  7. Chapter Six
  8. Chapter Seven
  9. Chapter Eight
  10. Chapter Nine
  11. Chapter Ten
  12. Chapter Eleven
  13. Chapter Twelve
  14. Chapter Thirteen
  15. Chapter Fourteen
  16. Chapter Fifteen
  17. Chapter Sixteen
  18. Chapter Seventeen
  19. Chapter Eighteen
  20. Chapter Nineteen
  21. Epilogue
  22. Preview of Back in the Burbs
  23. About the Author
  24. Discover more Amara titles…

Ian walked into the team’s workout facility, and it was as packed as a neighborhood gym after New Year’s. Down to the last man in Ice Knights gear, they were all in this together, fighting for that edge that could make a difference as the playoffs approached. Last year, they’d been too cocky and had gone down in six games. That wasn’t going to happen again. These were his boys and this was their year.

His phone buzzed in his workout pants for the fifth time since he’d walked into the building. Fucking A. There were a million things he’d rather do than talk on the phone, but whoever was on the other end was damn insistent. He walked through the workout room, heading for the locker room in the back to drop off his bag as he pulled out his phone right as the buzzing stopped. A notification that he’d missed a call from his dad appeared on the screen, but that wasn’t what made him halt in his tracks. Instead, it was the notification right below the missed-call alert. This one was from the Harbor City Post and it made absolutely no sense.

Ice Knights Players Secret Brothers: David Petrov Confesses All

Considering David the dick was his dad and he didn’t have any brothers—just two sisters who could make a grown man cry with a look—this was just nuts. He was gonna have to reach out to the team PR head, Lucy Kavanagh. She’d take care of it. Shaking his head, he continued on into the locker room. Even at one of the most crucial points in his career when everything was finally going right and he’d reached out beyond the journeyman limits everyone had expected of him when he’d been drafted in the seventh round, his dad took center stage.

At this point, he shouldn’t be surprised.

It had always been like this. He was never just Ian Petrov. He’d always been David Petrov’s son, held up to a standard that no one—with the exception of his buddy Christensen, fucking phenom—could come close to. Still, knowing his teammates, he was about to get a world of shit about his “brother,” so he might as well see who it most definitely was not.