SNOW: BOSTON BOLTS HOCKEY

  BRITTANÉE NICOLE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Boston Bolts Hockey: Snow © 2026 by Brittanée Nicole

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission to the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  First Edition January 2026

  Cover Art: elenbushe_art

  Cover Photo : Michelle Lancaster

  Formatting by Sara of Sara PA’s Services

  Editing by Beth at VB Edits

  Formatted with Vellum

  DEDICATION

  To new beginnings.

  “It was official. A new season had begun.

  After all, seasons change, so do cities; people come into your life and people go.

  But it’s comforting to know that the ones you love are always in your heart.

  And if you’re very lucky, a plane ride (or a book) away.”

  – Carrie Bradshaw

  Sex and the City

  CONTENT WARNING

  Alzheimer’s

  Death of a Parent

  Abuse, Abandonment and Neglect by a Parent

  Trauma

  FOREWORD

  Dear Reader,

  With each book I write, the world I build becomes more connected and complex. This book, like all the books in this series, can be read as a standalone. However, you will see some character overlap and since I know many of you enjoy the easter eggs I hide and prefer to read in order, here is a suggested reading order as it comes to this world:

  Revenge Era: Ford Hall and Lake Paige

  Mother Faker: Beckett Langfield and Olivia Maxwell

  Pucking Revenge: Brooks Langfield and Sara Case

  A Major Puck Up: Gavin Langfield and Millie Hall

  Hockey Boy: Aiden Langfield and Lennox Kennedy

  Trouble: Cade Fitzgerald, Declan Everhart and Melina Rodriguez

  War: Tyler Warren and Ava Erickson

  Playboy: Daniel Hall and Hannah Prescott

  Beauty: Noah Harrison and Sienna Langfield

  This is simply a suggestion. You can start with any book and work your way through the series in any order you prefer.

  Want more of the Langfields? Check out the 8 chapter epilogue, Seasons of Love in the Langfield Brothers Boxset.

  All of these books take place in the Boston Billionaire World so you will see or hear about those characters as well.

  I hope you enjoy this world as much as I enjoy writing it.

  XO,

  Brittanée

  CONTENTS

  1. Savannah

  2. Savannah

  3. Savannah

  4. Camden

  5. Savannah

  6. Camden

  7. Savannah

  8. Camden

  9. Savannah

  10. Savannah

  11. Camden

  12. Savannah

  13. Savannah

  14. Camden

  15. Savannah

  16. Savannah

  17. Camden

  18. Savannah

  19. Camden

  20. Savannah

  21. Camden

  22. Savannah

  23. Savannah

  24. Camden

  25. Camden

  26. Savannah

  27. Camden

  28. Savannah

  29. Camden

  30. Savannah

  31. Camden

  32. Savannah

  33. Camden

  34. Savannah

  35. Savannah

  36. Camden

  37. Savannah

  38. Savannah

  39. Camden

  40. Savannah

  41. Camden

  42. Savannah

  43. Camden

  44. Savannah

  45. Camden

  46. Camden

  47. Savannah

  48. Camden

  49. Savannah

  50. Camden

  51. Savannah

  52. Savannah

  53. Savannah

  54. Camden

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  Prologue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Brittanée Nicole

  ONE

  SAVANNAH

  “Get off your knees and stop showing off,” I holler.

  I wobble, then go down ass-first. Flopping back on the cold ice, I sigh up at the gray sky. Then I close my eyes and give up completely.

  “Just tap my shoulder when you’re done,” I tell Addie. “Hopefully I won’t have frozen over by then. If I have, it’s been fun.”

  The sound of skates slicing across ice gets louder, and when I force my eyes open, I find my friend looming over me, blocking out the gloomy sky. “Stop being so dramatic.”

  The gorgeous brunette smirks down at me, batting her honey brown eyes.

  “I didn’t complain when you made us do that pole dancing class last week.”

  I huff out a breath. On top of being annoyingly pretty, Adeline Langfield is good at everything. During her first attempt, she contorted herself until she was upside down on the pole, legs spread like a literal pinup girl.

  Gliding backward with the grace of a professional figure skater, she waggles her fingers. Then she dips down and launches herself into the air, her body spinning in a way even Olympians would envy. Bitch.

  With a laugh, Josie does the same. While she doesn’t nail the spin the way Addie did, she does a little twirl that my ass would never even attempt.

  The final girl to complete our quartet, Sutton, skates up to me with an ease I don’t have. “Need help?” She holds out a hand.

  I clutch her wrist, but instead of accepting her help, I pull her down with me.

  Giggling, my blond friend lands on top of me, then wiggles to the ice beside me.

  I sit, shaking off the cold sensation creeping up my spine, and watch Josie mimic every one of Addie’s movements.

  The two aren’t anywhere near the same caliber, yet Josie is a hell of a lot better than Sutton and I are. Makes sense, considering Josie’s dad is Tyler Warren, one of the best wingers the Boston Bolts has ever seen. And because the rink we’re on is located in the backyard of her childhood home. She grew up skating, so following Addie is no hard feat.

  Okay, maybe it is, since Adeline Langfield is as good on skates as Tyler Warren himself. At twenty-six, she is one of the PWHL’s best female goalies. Though she’s giving up that career at the end of this season to join the Boston Bolts as their first ever female goalie coach.

  Josie’s no slouch, but even she seems to be regretting her suggestion that we have our girls’ night at her parents’ place. “I think our moms were spot-on when it came to girl time. Brunch and mimosas would be so much more relaxing.”

  Addie grins. “My mom and her best friends had book club nights. And wine. I assure you, our plans are better.”

  Sutton spreads her legs and extends an arm, stretching to one side, then the other. “Mine had brewery nights. And jumping off the pier after a few too many drinks.”

  Pretty sure I’d dampen the mood if I mentioned how my mom didn’t have any friends because she was a narcissist, so instead I say, “All of them included alcohol. We’re definitely missing out.”

  Addie rolls her eyes. “Fine. How does spiked hot chocolate by the fire sound?”

  My smile is automatic. “Delicious.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’re curled up on the oversized couches in the Warren home. Josie’s parents and her younger brother are at a hockey tournament, so we have the house to ourselves for the evening. It’s one of those perfect winter homes, set deep in the woods in the suburbs of Boston, with its own little pond and huge windows that look out over the sprawling property. Tonight, every inch is covered in snow, making it a white winter’s dream.

  Inside a fire burns in the oversized stone hearth, creating a cozy glow. While Josie and Addie move around the kitchen, getting snacks and drinks together, I shove my still stiff toes between the couch cushions and take in the beautiful view.

  I can’t imagine being comfortable in a house of this size, but I’m the only one here who’s even slightly fazed by all the signs of wealth surrounding us. While Josie’s life was hard before being adopted by Tyler Warren and his wife, Ava, this has been her home since she was eight.

  Addie’s family money puts the Warrens to shame. The Langfields are Boston royalty, owning both the city’s hockey and baseball teams, as well as a tremendous amount of property.

  I’m actually interviewing her aunt tomorrow. She’s just taken over as creative director of the magazine I work for, Jolie. The owner, Catherine Bouvier, has been trying for over a decade to get her to come on board, and she’s finally done it.

  Sutton’s family is wealthy as well. Despite hailing from a tiny island off the coast of Maine, Sutton’s mom is the Elizabeth Sweet. America’s sweetheart turned four-time Tony Award–winning actress and now director. Sutton followed in her mother’s footsteps and is starring in her first lead on Broadway this spring.

  And then there’s me, the girl from Las Vegas whose only family consists of a narcissistic mother, an absent father, and the Italians who live on the second floor of my three-story walk-up in Southie.


>   How the hell did I end up in a room with these three impressive women? I have my job to thank for that. Josie and I met when we were hired by Jolie at about the same time. When she discovered that I was all alone in Boston, she invited me over for dinner with her family. I tried to object, but according to her, the Warrens are known for collecting strays, and I’d always have a place with them.

  True to her word, she’s included me in holidays, family game nights, and girls’ nights like this for the last four years.

  Josie’s and Addie’s families are close, so they’ve known one another most of their lives. Josie is two years older than Addie, but because she spent a good part of her childhood fighting a serious illness, she was a few years behind in school and went to college with Addie. Then there’s Sutton, who’s also been close with Addie since they were little girls. While getting close to people with that type of history would normally scare me—as any type of commitment does—as Josie promised, they brought this stray in and haven’t let me go since.

  “How are things going with—” I snap my fingers, racking my brain for the name of Sutton’s latest boy wonder. When it doesn’t come to me, I shake my head. “Hot bartender with the lip ring?”

  Sutton snorts. My ability to remember the name of just about any man is nearly nonexistent, and my friends know it. Men serve their purpose, sure, but considering that no man has ever not disappointed me, I don’t go out of my way to befriend them. Especially not the ones Sutton dates, since there always seems to be someone new. Despite the revolving door, Sutton isn’t a player. Not in the slightest. That’d be me. Sutton Jones is a serial monogamist who believes every man she meets will be the love of her life.

  Okay, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch, but with the way she waxes poetic about every one of them, it sometimes feels like it. She’s in love with the idea of falling in love, not with the men themselves.

  “Oh, you didn’t hear.” Addie shuffles into the room with two mugs in each hand. Her caramel balayage looks darker, her hair still damp from outside. Her cheeks are rosy, and her deceptively innocent big brown eyes dance with the promise of secrets. “He ghosted her after she asked him to spend the holidays with her.”

  “You what now?” I carefully take two of the drinks from Addie as Sutton takes a third.

  “Obviously he wasn’t the one for me.” Sutton takes a sip and sighs. Despite her annoying desire to fall in love, I adore the way she doesn’t let these setbacks dampen her sparkle. She says that every Mr. Wrong brings her one step closer to Mr. Right.

  “Or,” Josie says as she sets a platter of brownies on the table, “and don’t take my word for it because I know jack shit about relationships, but maybe asking a man you’ve been out with twice to spend the holidays with your family is a step too far?”

  I point at her, lips pressed together. “That one’s onto something.”

  Sutton huffs. “Whatever. Can we talk about something else?”

  “Ah, yes.” Josie zeroes in on me. “Let’s talk about the interview you have scheduled this week.”

  I survey Addie. “Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

  She shrugs. “My aunt is one of my favorite people. Couldn’t tell you if any of the tabloid gossip over the years is true, though. To me, she’s always been the only woman other than my mother who can put my father in his place. It’s fun to watch.”

  I snort. “My kind of woman.”

  “And her closet is incredible,” she adds. “She invited us to come over and pick out anything we want for Camden’s party.”

  Eyeing my ample chest, I shake my head. “I don’t think these things will fit into anything your aunt owns.” I’m curvy, with wide hips and thighs. And these double Ds have a life of their own half the time.

  I also have an addiction to chocolate and cake. Any kind of dessert, really. So my stomach is soft. I’m essentially the complete opposite of dainty Sienna Harrison, with her petite features and B cup.

  “Yeah, I’m not fitting these boobs into any of your aunt’s dresses either,” Sutton says, chin tucked and eyeing her own rack. While her breasts aren’t as large as mine, she’s waif thin, so they look enormous on her body.

  Addie waves a hand. “She could alter just about anything in her sleep. Plus, she’s now got the contents of the Jolie closet at her fingertips. There are a ton of options in every size.”

  My heart stutters. Jolie’s closet is what legends are made of. My figure is more in line with Catherine Bouvier, the head of the magazine and the fashion icon of our generation. If I find anything she’s worn in that closet, I will cry.

  Literal tears.

  “See? Now you’re excited,” Addie says, chin lifted and smug smile in place. “So outside of the piece you’re doing about my aunt, what else is going on with work?”

  Josie’s eyes cut to mine. She knows as well as I do that I need to knock it out of the park with this article since the other column I work on hasn’t been getting the numbers we need. Still, I’m not a quitter. I can turn it around. I just need a fresh idea to get readers interested again.

  Hoping my friends can help me brainstorm, I dive right in. “Honestly, I need a really good hook for the next edition of Calliope’s Column. All I talk about is sex and orgasms. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex and orgasms⁠—”

  “Who doesn’t?” Josie crows.

  Addie rolls her eyes and Sutton falls back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. She thinks love is required for sex, but since she falls in love just about weekly, I don’t think she’s missing out too much.

  I huff. “It feels like all I do is mimic the original Calliope.” I shrug. Honestly, I don’t even know who that was. Jolie purchased the column years ago, when the original Calliope was ready to retire. Since then, women at the magazine have taken turns acting as the dating and sex guru. I’ve been the author for almost a year, and it already feels tired. “I want to do something smart and edgy and…” I groan and slump back. “I don’t know. More helpful than just telling women the best position for a G-spot O.”

  “I thought that was super helpful.” Addie arches a brow. “I mean who knew that it was impossible to reach in missionary?”

  “When was the last time you even had sex?” Josie asks, eyes narrowed on our friend.

  Addie’s jaw practically unhinges. “I have sex.”

  Another huff escapes me, this one full of skepticism. “When?”

  “I have sex.” As the words leave her mouth, her eyes dart to one side. “I’m just going through a bit of a dry spell.”

  “Well you better un-dry that spell, because you’re about to be working with a bunch of really hot men,” Sutton says. “If you think you’re horny now, just imagine how horny you’ll be having to spend all that time with JJ”

  If possible, Addie’s jaw drops farther. “Take it back.”

  Sutton grins, eyes dancing. “Why? We all know it’s true. You as his coach? There’s gonna be all kinds of delicious gossip flying. Bet you could write a year’s worth of Calliope columns using Addie’s life experience alone. The first headline: How Not to Fuck Your Enemy.”

  “JJ is not my enemy.” Addie lifts her chin, keeping her expression even in a pathetic effort to look nonchalant.

  “Oh no, just your archnemesis,” Josie teases.

  Addie huffs. “He’s a player. And a dad. And married.”

  “Ugh, I hate his wife.” Josie scowls.

  “Doesn’t matter. He’s still married, and I’m not interested.” Addie scrutinizes me. “So you’ll have to come up with something else ridiculous to write about.”

  I sink against the couch, nerves swirling in my stomach. Yes, I will. The question is, what?

  TWO

  SAVANNAH

  “Thank you!” I call to the Uber driver as I step onto the broken sidewalk. The door to my building is decorated with a glowing wreath and the banister is wrapped in a string of Christmas lights, thanks to the first-floor residents. They’re a family of six in a two-bedroom apartment. I don’t know how they do it, but I rarely hear the eighteen-month-old twins even cry. Even now, just after nine, the only sound echoing in the tiny foyer area is laughter. The building has seen better days, but I love every inch of it. Especially the people inside.