They call me the Bad*ss of Hockey. The Beast from the Northeast. And I’m not just discussing my stick perform on the ice.

As Captain for the Boston Blades, I’ve spent years working toward bringing house the Stanley Cup.

But when the owners sell us out to Hollywood, suddenly we’re not only playing for a large number of followers, we’re cracking open our lives about a new reality present, Getting Pucked. They want all the dirty details, and I’d rather have a puck to the gonads than peel back the drapes on my life.

Not when it could take me from the game once and for all.

I agree to indication the contract on one condition: they hire New England’s reigning queen of mass media to contact the shots.

Holly Belliveaux Carter.

The girl who drives me to insanity and turns me on with nothing but a quirk of her lips and the sound of her laugh. The only girl I’ve ever loved.

The problem? She’s my ex-wife.

Contains mature themes.