Dropping Gloves is LIVE

It's here! It's here!

If you pre-ordered Dropping Gloves, you should have it now. If you didn't pre-order, you can purchase it now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iBooks, Kobo, Google Play, All Romance eBooks, and Smashwords.

The first chapter can be found here in case you're still undecided.

Next up, I'll be launching the Tulsa Thunderbirds series with Bury the Hatchet, but then I'll be returning to the Storm for Home Ice.

I hope you enjoy Dropping Gloves, and I hope the wait for Babs and Katie's story was worth it.

Delay of Game - Sneak Peek - Chapter One

I've given you glimpses into the early chapters of every book in this series, so why change that now? It's time to do that again with DELAY OF GAME.

First off, here's what the book is about:

With her father’s health in question, Sara Thomas is focused on reducing his anxiety. That’s no small feat considering his high-stress job, not to mention her own distractions. Everyone knows Sara’s single; no one knows she’s pregnant. There’s never a good time to unexpectedly get knocked up, but now is definitely not it. Regardless, she doesn’t want anyone to know—especially not her father—until she has a game plan in place. But when Jonny, one of her father’s players, seeks vigilante justice on the ice, everything gets tossed out the window.

Cam Johnson’s role as a fourth-line winger with the NHL’s Portland Storm entails more than scoring goals. He has to ensure other teams don’t take liberties with the Storm’s star players. The way Cam sees it, that’s the most important aspect of his job. His teammates call him Jonny; opposing fans call him a goon; the media calls him an enforcer. The title’s unimportant. Cam will always fight for his team—even if he has to break the rules. He’s used to taking penalties, but he never meant for anyone else to suffer from his choices.

When Cam’s actions cause Sara’s worst fears to be realized, he blames himself. He’s screwed everything up; now he has to set things right. Mutual attraction leads to lust, and suddenly Cam is taking penalties at every turn…at least where Sara is concerned. He’s got to think on his feet or he’ll end up with a Delay of Game.

DELAY OF GAME releases on August 21, 2014, and you can pre-order it now at iBooks, Barnes and Noble, and Kobo for only $0.99. (For Amazon Kindle readers, you'll be able to get it for the first TWO days of release at that price. Then it will go up to its regular price of $3.99.)

Okay...without further ado, here's chapter one of DELAY OF GAME. Enjoy!

SARA:

No matter how many of those stupid sticks I peed on, they all said the same thing in the end.

Which meant two things. One, I was royally fucked. (Oh, the irony.) And two, Daddy was going to absolutely murder me.

Granted, he would only kill me if he found out. Since I’d only learned just now that I was pregnant, I definitely didn’t have a game plan yet. I didn’t know what I would do, so I supposed that meant there was a third thing it meant, too—that I was scared out of my freaking skull and didn’t know what to focus on first. But whatever I decided on, I had at least a little bit of time. Daddy wasn’t the most observant person in the world, at least when it came to anything that wasn’t hockey related. I didn’t have to make any sort of rash decision that I might later regret, beyond the one I’d already made and couldn’t take back.

Anyway, with this, I could take the time to figure out what was best. If there was such a thing. I wasn’t convinced there was.

There wasn’t time right now to worry about it, though. My father was Scotty Thomas, a legendary coach in the National Hockey League who was currently finishing up his second season coaching the Portland Storm. Legendary because he’d started coaching when he was only twenty-six, after being forced to retire as a player early, after a slew of injuries. He’d coached his first NHL team to the Stanley Cup Finals. They’d lost in seven games, but in the twenty-eight years since then, he’d won the Cup four times as a head coach. That put him in some pretty rare company, and the Storm organization hoped he could lead them to the same end. It might not happen this year, but they were closer than they had been in a while…and a lot of that was because of him.

Today was the final game of the regular season, and since I was Daddy’s personal assistant—he’d officially hired me when I’d turned eighteen so he could justify paying me a salary—I had to get him out the door in time so we wouldn’t get stuck in traffic on our way to the Moda Center. Personal assistant was really just a glorified title meaning I made sure I got him where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be there, but the pay was pretty damn good for an insanely easy job that I had already been doing for years, anyway.

With trembling hands, I shoved the pee sticks and their boxes and plastic wrappings and instruction booklets into a brown paper bag and crushed it all, then buried it in the trash can in my bathroom. For good measure, I took that trash bag out, put a fresh one in, and took the evidence down to the main trash can in the kitchen. No reason to leave that stuff lying around where our housekeeper might find it and tell Daddy. I doubted Rose would do something like that, but you just never know about people. Better to take precautionary measures than have to sort out the consequences later.

Oh. Haha. Yeah, that was kind of what was going on. Except I had taken precautionary measures. I’d been on the pill since I was sixteen, and I never did the deed without a condom. But there was that one night a little over a month ago, with Brad, when the condom broke. And the pill isn’t fail-safe.

Clearly.

It had been a bad date. It hadn’t even been good sex. Definitely not worth ending up a freaking out, shaking, preggers mess over.

I still don’t know why I’d slept with him. I mean, he was hot, sure. And he wasn’t a hockey player, so that was a huge bonus in his favor, at least with me. I’d spent my entire life around hockey players, almost constantly. I didn’t want to have a relationship with one of them beyond working for my father. I didn’t even want to have a one-night stand with any of them. So when a guy who didn’t play hockey asked me out, I tended to jump on it whether I was really attracted and interested or not.

That was what had happened with Brad. He’d hit on me at the gym. But this guy, the hot-but-boring non-hockey-playing biomechanical engineer who couldn’t find my clitoris with a detailed map, step-by-step instructions, and a compass? There was no chance in hell I was ever going to go out with him again after that night. I’d known it from the moment he’d pulled the car up in front of the Red Robin at Cascade Station.

Who takes someone to a cheesy chain restaurant like that for a first date? They weren’t even cheesetastic. They were the bad kind of cheesy, like those plain-Jane slices of processed crap they called American cheese.

But it had been so long since I’d had sex—real sex with a hot guy who took care of himself and his body, not a late-night date with my vibrator—that I’d gone along with him when he’d suggested we take things back to his place.

And the condom had broken.

And now I was pregnant.

Crap. I didn’t even have his phone number anymore. I’d deleted it from my cell almost the moment I’d gotten home. Not that I had a clue what I’d say to him even if I did have his number. Hey, Brad. Long time no talk. So, I know I brushed you off and all that, but guess what? You’re my baby daddy! Congratulations!

I tried to shake all that out of my head. Now wasn’t the time to freak. I had work to do.

“Daddy?” I called up the stairs.

No answer.

He was probably holed up in his office watching film of the Canucks, despite the fact that his cardiologist had told him he had to reduce his stress and get some rest when he could. This would have been a perfect time for the whole rest-and-relaxation thing—an afternoon off before a game. All of his players were resting right now, taking their pre-game naps. But not Daddy.

I headed down the hall and knocked on the open door, trying not to let myself get upset about it. That wouldn’t do either of us any good.

He looked up. “Time already?”

“Yeah. You’d better get your suit on so we aren’t late.”

Daddy paused the video he was watching and got up from his desk, grabbing the cup of coffee sitting beside him.

“Have you checked your blood pressure today?” I asked. I didn’t like to nag, but someone had to or he’d never do some of the things he needed to do. If it wasn’t directly related to coaching hockey, he was generally oblivious. I’d taken over looking after him when my mother abandoned us to run off with one of the players on Daddy’s team years ago. I’d only been ten, but I had done a better job of looking after him in all the intervening years than she’d ever done. By now, thirteen years later, it was second nature to me.

“I’ll do it once we get to the arena,” he promised.

“Your doctor says you need to check it two or three times a day, Daddy. And you’re supposed to reduce your stress and get more rest. And drink more water and less coffee.” I took the mug away from him and headed back to the kitchen so I could dump its contents down the drain.

He followed along behind me, grumbling half-heartedly the whole way. “The playoffs start in three days. How do you suppose I’m going to be able to do any of those things right now?”

I arched a brow at him from the other side of the kitchen island. “Drink less coffee and replace it with water. Then you’ll sleep more. That’ll kill a few birds.”

“And I’ll have more stress because I won’t be as prepared as I need to be for the first round because I was too busy sleeping.”

I sighed. “I don’t want to argue with you about this right now, Daddy.”

“I know, Sara.” He sounded defeated. He came around and kissed my forehead. “I’m trying to do better.”

If I’d been anyone else, he would have been yelling at me right now. I knew that. It was just one more thing I was trying to help him stop doing, because it was all going to add up and kill him. He might drive me crazy sometimes, but I wasn’t ready to lose him. He was my only family. He’d given me the only job I’d ever had. And now I was pregnant and single and scared shitless.

I couldn’t lose him now.

I nodded and washed his coffee cup, then grabbed a towel from the bar under the sink to dry it. “I know you are. Go get dressed.”

While he did that, I put together a snack for him—peanut butter on a toasted multigrain bagel, a banana, and low-fat yogurt with a serving of chia seeds stirred in.

When he took it from me, he scowled at the little black seeds in his yogurt. “What are you trying to kill me with now?”

“Doc suggested them for your cholesterol. They’re chia seeds. Full of omegas and fiber and protein—all the good stuff you’re supposed to be eating every day.”

Doc wasn’t my father’s heart doctor. He was Dr. Larry Mitchell, the head doctor of the Portland Storm. Doc’s focus was mainly on keeping the players in peak physical condition, and his background was more in sports injuries than the heart, but I figured all doctors had to know a thing or two about heart health after all those years in medical school. He was the only person involved with the team I’d talked to about it. Daddy still wasn’t happy that I’d gone to Doc at all, but I needed to know everything I could about how to help keep my father alive, and it couldn’t hurt to have someone else aware of the situation—someone who would be around him when I wasn’t.

Daddy lifted a brow.

“You can’t taste them, so don’t give me a hard time about this. I already tried them to see.” I grinned so he would know I was teasing him. “Just eat it, and let’s get out of here.”

“You spend too much time worrying about me. Who worries about you?”

“You do,” I answered, quickly brushing off yet another not-so-subtle hint that he wanted me to be dating someone. Ever since the issues with his heart had cropped up, he’d been trying to convince me to get involved with some guy or another. It felt like he was trying to be sure I wouldn’t be alone once he was gone. My focus was on making sure he wasn’t gone anytime soon, though. “And I get paid to worry about you, in case you forgot,” I added.

“Can’t forget that since I sign the checks.” He finally did what I asked without any more complaints, and then we made our way to the arena. When we arrived, I went with him to his office for a minute. His assistant coaches, Mattias Bergstrom and Daniel Hamm, were already there doing whatever it was Daddy expected them to do before games.

I kissed my dad on the cheek and said, “Remember to check your blood pressure,” and then I left him to do his thing. I don’t think he or anyone else would ever say boo to me if I stayed down in the coaches’ offices or headed into the locker room for a bit to say hi to the guys, but it was habit for me to go straight up to the owner’s box and hang out with the players’ wives and girlfriends during the games. I’d been doing that since I was a baby, so I didn’t see any reason to change my routine now.

On my way out the door, though, I bumped into Cam Johnson, one of my father’s players. He reached out and caught my arms, gently steadying me. “Sorry, Sara. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Jonny was a big guy, a fighter. He was six foot four and towered over my five foot seven frame, but his height wasn’t the truly intimidating thing about him. The guy was 240 pounds or more of solid muscle. The suit he was wearing only emphasized his broad shoulders and beefy arms, and the buzz cut he always had made it easier to see the muscle even coming down his neck. Who the hell had a muscled neck? How did he even build muscle there?

The really pathetic thing was, I was crazy attracted to him. Had been for a while. I didn’t want to be because he was a hockey player, of all things, and I didn’t want to be with a hockey player. And he was one of Daddy’s players. And that meant he was completely and totally off limits. But every time I was around him, I got these little tingles of awareness.

I hated those tingles. I wanted to throw them into the pit of Mount Doom like they were the One Ring. Mainly because I only felt them when I was around Jonny, never when I was around anyone else. I’d hoped I might feel them with that guy Brad. Same hair. Close to the same height. Fit, but nowhere close to as built as Jonny—but who was?—but it was no good. No tingles. Bad sex.

And now a baby on the way.

Fuck me.

The tingles were going into overdrive right now, since Jonny was so close to me. He had his hands on my upper arms and I could smell his amazing cologne, and I didn’t want to move a muscle other than to maybe lean in a little closer so I could sniff his collar, which would be totally weird and not even remotely all right.

Jonny gave me a concerned look. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Oh yeah. He’d asked me a question. I totally spaced on that, thinking about neck muscles and those damn tingles. “No, I’m fine. Sorry. I was off in another world somewhere.”

“Okay.” He dropped his grip on my arms, and I wanted to sob. Then he took a step back from me and grinned—at least it was as close to a grin as this guy ever showed. “You look nice tonight. Did you do something different? A new top or something?”

“I…” What? In all the encounters I’d ever had with Cam Johnson, that might be the most he’d ever spoken to me, and he wanted to know if I’d worn a new shirt tonight? Where the hell had that come from? The only thing different about me was that I had learned I was an incubator for a tiny human. “No, nothing’s different,” I hedged. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone about that, and definitely not this guy.

He just nodded and backed away some more, letting his gaze travel all the way down my body and cause a shit-ton more tingles. “Well, you look nice. Maybe it’s your shoes. Those are really nice shoes. I’ve got to go talk to your dad now. See ya later.”

I nodded and spun on my Manolo Blahniks, desperate to get away from him so I could make the tingles stop. Come to think of it, I’d only worn these shoes a few times. Weird that he’d notice something like that. I shook it off and hurried up to the owner’s box as I’d intended to do when I’d first left Daddy’s office.

Dana Campbell—team captain Eric Zellinger’s fiancée and his best friend Brenden Campbell’s kid sister—was the only other person up there when I arrived, which was utterly perfect.

Dana was one of the best friends I’d made since Daddy had come to Portland to coach, and she was the primary reason I’d spent as much time around Jonny lately as I had. He had taught her some self-defense techniques. They still worked out together sometimes, and she liked having him around, so she always invited him along if we were doing something that wasn’t just the girls. Anyway, talking to her would help me get my mind off all the Jonny-tingles and baby daddy crap going through my head.

I plopped down in the seat right next to hers. “Let’s talk wedding details. I need something to make me smile.”

“How about this?” Dana tucked a curl of her long, blond hair behind her ear and leaned closer to me. “Brenden and Rachel agreed to do a double wedding. We’re going to have it in Providence this summer so Eric’s mom doesn’t have to fly.”

Yep, a double wedding was just what the doctor ordered. I pulled both my legs up so I was sitting cross-legged on my seat and settled in to dish.

CAM:

Ultimately, the result of tonight’s game wouldn’t matter.

This was game eighty-two of the NHL’s eighty-two game season. My team, the Storm, was playing the Vancouver Canucks. No matter which team won this game, and no matter what happened in any of the other thirteen games going on around the league on this final day of the regular season, we already knew our fate and the Canucks already knew theirs.

The Storm would finish in third place in the Pacific Division. We were going to the playoffs, our first postseason appearance in five long years. I’d been here for four of them after spending a few years playing for the Baby Storm—what I’d always called the Seattle Storm, Portland’s minor league affiliate. I knew better than most how long overdue a trip to the dance was around here.

Also regardless of tonight’s outcome, the Canucks would finish in second place in the division. They had gotten into the postseason more often than not in recent years, but they had never won it all.

Those positions meant we would face each other in the first round.

So in a few days’ time, the two teams playing each other tonight would play again—and it would be all-out war for about a week or two. Best of seven. Winner moves on in the toughest tournament in all professional sports to compete for the Stanley Cup. Loser gets to call it a summer early and go home to work on the perfect golf swing.

The only things that mattered now were setting expectations and establishing a tone. We may not have gotten into the playoffs in the last five years, but we had no intention of going down easy, and they planned to make us pay for every inch of ice we wanted to take. For both teams, tonight was all about sending a message about what was to come in the first round.

The matchup would be interesting from a sports network perspective—the perennial playoff contender who had never won the big prize against the team made up of young players hungry to prove themselves and a few aging vets hoping for another shot at the Cup before they retired. It should make for an intriguing series from those storylines alone, but there was a lot more at play than just that.

The season series between our two teams had grown more and more contentious with every game. We didn’t like them; they didn’t like us. That went back pretty much twenty years or so, well before any of the players on the ice were in the league yet. Sometimes it seemed like we’d loathed each other since even before the Storm came into existence. It was a mutual, decades-old hate fest, and things had gotten progressively nastier each time we’d faced them over the course of the current season. The fact that we would have to play an entire seven-game series against them in just a few days had only served to intensify that hatred, if that were even possible.

It was still a scoreless game in the third period, and it had been filled with more than just a few hard—not to mention dirty—hits. On both sides. There was no pretending our play hadn’t skirted the line of legality just as much as theirs had. Anyone who tried to argue otherwise was full of shit.

But what was happening right before my eyes went beyond merely hitting.

I didn’t see what started it—something in the corner behind our net, where several guys from both teams had converged, it seemed—but I heard a bunch of angry shouting, and a scrum broke out in the blink of an eye. Each of our five guys paired off with a Canuck. Everyone in the building got on their feet—both benches, all the fans. No one could sit with that kind of tension on the verge of seriously boiling over. Our goaltender, Nicklas Ericsson, skated away from his crease and off to the corner so he couldn’t get dragged into the fray.

That made me breathe a little easier. Nicky had already missed quite a bit of action this season with a concussion. And really, the last guy you ever want fighting in hockey is your goaltender. The more distance he put between himself and all the shit going down on the ice, the better. That was the way I looked at it, at least.

Every guy on our bench was yelling and tapping his stick on the boards. The coaches paced behind us, screaming at the refs to get the melee under control and cheering our boys on just like the rest of us were.

But then the shit hit the fan.

One of the guys in visitors’ white took Andrew Jensen down hard. Jens was our number one defenseman and my road roommate this year. He wasn’t a fighter, but he had answered the call out there just like any of our boys would do in a pinch. Now he was flat out on the ice and not moving a muscle.

All the guys on the bench went berserk when we saw Jens on his back like that. The linesmen were trying to deal with a couple of the fights that were heading out toward center ice. One of the refs was down on the ice with Jens, and the other was trying to help Eddie Masters, our head trainer, get to Jens since it looked like he was in some serious trouble. It wouldn’t surprise me to see the stretcher come out for him, and that was something you never wanted to see. It almost always meant extremely bad news.

With all that going on, though, no one was doing a goddamned thing about the asswipe in white who’d just taken out our best fucking defenseman.

“Stay on the fucking bench,” Scotty Thomas yelled from close behind me. “No one leaves this bench or you’ll never see another fucking minute of ice time as long as I’m the coach here.”

The assistant coaches were shouting similar shit at us. They just wanted to be sure we all followed the rules. Back in the day, the NHL had experienced issues with bench-clearing brawls, so harsher punishments were instituted now for anyone who left the team’s bench in a situation like this. Automatic suspensions and fines for the player. Fines and possible suspensions for the coaches. Even heftier fines for the teams.

We all knew the rules.

I knew the fucking rules.

But I also knew it was my job to protect my teammates. I could score a goal here and there. I was a serviceable fourth-liner and penalty killer and I could move up the lineup when they needed me to, but I wasn’t going to kid myself. One of the main reasons the Storm kept me on the payroll year after year was because I didn’t let fuckers like that take out the star players on my team. Sometimes doing what was right was more important than following the fucking rules. I knew it. The coaches knew it. The league knew it. Everyone in the whole damn building fucking knew it.

Center Antoine Gagnon was holding his own with a guy who had a reputation as a fighter, much like I did. Good on the kid. Gags was a second-year guy, really young, who was still trying to establish himself as a regular. I’d never thought of him as a fighter before, though.

Keith Burns, our other defenseman on the ice for this shift, had his guy pinned against the glass, and they were both trying to catch their breath after a heavy bout. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went another round before the linesmen got to them to break things up. I hoped for Burnzie’s sake they didn’t. We needed him able to play, especially if Jens was going to be out for a chunk of time.

David Weber was in a big tilt with his guy—another heavyweight fighter for the Canucks—but Webs was a wily veteran who’d been in more fights in his career than just about anyone else on the team other than me. I didn’t need to worry about him.

Henrik Markusson had never even been in more than a shoving match before, though, at least not to my knowledge. Hank wasn’t holding up well. The guy he’d paired off with was pummeling him with one right hook on top of another. I could only hope Hank wouldn’t get hurt like Jens had. We couldn’t afford to lose either one of them right now with the playoffs being right around the corner. Someday soon I needed to take Hank aside and give him a few fighting pointers just in case he got stuck in a situation like this again. When a line-brawl starts, you don’t always get to pick which players are out on the ice for it.

But fighting tips would have to wait. This was happening in the here and now. I made notes in my mind, taking down numbers of the guys in white who would need to be dealt with when I finally got the chance—and I would get my fucking chance, since we were going to have a whole playoff series against each other starting in a few days.

But then I saw it: a streak of white, out of the corner of my eye, heading straight in Nicky’s direction. The same fucker who’d laid Jens out was going for my goddamn goaltender.

Nicky didn’t have to fight him, at least not according to the rules in place. He could refuse. But if this asswipe started throwing blows, what the hell was Nicky supposed to do? He would have to protect himself, and then he’d be fighting, and that was not something I could let happen.

“Stay the fuck where you are. No one leaves this fucking bench.”

I heard Scotty’s shout, and I knew he meant for me—for all of us, really—to stay put and be good little soldiers.

“That means you, Jonny,” Bergy bellowed from right by my ear. “Keep your ass on the bench. Don’t you fucking put a skate over the boards.”

Yeah, that one was definitely directed straight at me and no one else. Bergy knew me well since he’d still been playing when I came into the league. I actually fought him once, so he knew exactly what I was. Hockey player. Fighter. Some people called me a goon. I wasn’t a goon, but I couldn’t sit back and let certain things happen.

Things like this fucker making a beeline for my goaltender.

I felt Bergy’s hands on the back of my jersey, trying to physically restrain me and keep me on the bench.

I didn’t give a shit.

All that mattered at that moment in time was that it was my job to protect my teammates.

So that’s exactly what I did.

More Pre-Orders

Taking a Shot, the novella originally published in the Seduced by the Game anthology, will release on its own on September 4, 2014.

Katie Weber has lost her health due to leukemia, and now her chemotherapy treatments have taken her hair. She’s not about to show up to her senior prom bald and let her classmates steal her dignity, too. Prom is no place for a girl who looks more like an alien than a high school student, especially when her so-called friends all dropped her like she had the plague at the first mention of the word cancer. Katie could never get up the courage to ask Jamie—her crush for almost two years, ever since he joined her dad’s pro hockey team—to take her. Not with the way she looks now. Besides, her dad would absolutely murder him.

Jamie Babcock knows its bad news to fall for his Portland Storm teammate’s daughter, but he’s had a thing for Katie since the first time he met her when he was just a wide-eyed, eighteen-year-old rookie. Now cancer might take her away before he ever grows the balls to do anything about it, though. Her father won’t be happy about it, but Jamie has to take a shot and ask to take her to her prom. It seems like Katie has just about given up, and he can’t let her go without giving her some good memories…something to hold on to. She’s still got her whole life ahead of her—she just has to keep living it. If he can convince her of that, nothing her father might do to him will matter.

You can currently pre-order it at iBooks, Kobo, and sometime soon at Barnes and Noble.

Add it to your Goodreads bookshelf now.

There's also a box set of the first few books in the Portland Storm series on its way. Portland Storm: The First Period, will be available on December 4, 2014. You can pre-order it through iBooks, Kobo, and sometime soon at Barnes and Noble.

BREAKAWAY

She’s reaching for a breakaway pass.

Dana Campbell has spent the past seven years in self-imposed isolation for a crime she didn’t commit. The danger is well in the past, but her panic attacks make it impossible to have a normal, healthy relationship with a man. Even her counselor has given up on her. She has to find someone she trusts to help her fight through the panic, or her seven-year ordeal will become a lifetime sentence. There’s only one man she feels safe enough to ask.

He got caught with his head down.

As the captain of the NHL’s once elite but now fading Portland Storm, Eric Zellinger knows a thing or two about keeping his focus on the job. Questions are flying about his ability to lead the team back to the playoffs. If they don’t make it, he might be shipped out of town. It’s the worst time possible for his best friend’s kid sister to divide his focus. How can he give her what she needs without jeopardizing both the Storm’s playoff hopes and his future with the team?

It’s her only chance, but it’s his last shot.

ON THE FLY

Injury after injury has put Brenden Campbell’s NHL career on hold for years. Now he’s playing for the Portland Storm and determined to make it stick. Few things in life drive him more than being told he can’t have something he wants, and what he wants most is to prove he belongs. Brenden also wants Rachel Shaw, the cute, little redhead who just got hired as the general manager’s new assistant. But then she went and made herself off-limits, telling him: “I don’t date.” Those three words pretty much guarantee that he’ll do everything he can to change her mind.

Rachel is changing things up on the fly for her family, moving them somewhere she can be the kind of mom her kids deserve. Allowing anyone else to be in their lives is out of the question, at least until her instincts get back on track. How else can she be sure who to steer the kids clear of? Right now she trusts no one, including herself, and especially not a man like Brenden Campbell. He’s way too handsome and a little bit cocky. Falling for a guy like him is a mistake she can’t afford to make twice.

TAKING A SHOT

Katie Weber has lost her health due to leukemia, and now her chemotherapy treatments have taken her hair. She’s not about to show up to her senior prom bald and let her classmates steal her dignity, too. Prom is no place for a girl who looks more like an alien than a high school student, especially when her so-called friends all dropped her like she had the plague at the first mention of the word cancer. Katie could never get up the courage to ask Jamie—her crush for almost two years, ever since he joined her dad’s pro hockey team—to take her. Not with the way she looks now. Besides, her dad would absolutely murder him.

Jamie Babcock knows its bad news to fall for his Portland Storm teammate’s daughter, but he’s had a thing for Katie since the first time he met her when he was just a wide-eyed, eighteen-year-old rookie. Now cancer might take her away before he ever grows the balls to do anything about it, though. Her father won’t be happy about it, but Jamie has to take a shot and ask to take her to her prom. It seems like Katie has just about given up, and he can’t let her go without giving her some good memories…something to hold on to. She’s still got her whole life ahead of her—she just has to keep living it. If he can convince her of that, nothing her father might do to him will matter.

LIGHT THE LAMP

Life’s been rough lately for Noelle Payne, but she’s not one to let negativity rule. So, she lost her job? She’ll find another one. The bank foreclosed on the house? Well, she can live out of her car for a while. There’s always an upside to be found…but now Noelle needs to find something to give her life meaning. She owes it to the universe to figure it out, too, because a stranger just saved her life.

When Liam Kallen’s wife died, his goal-scoring ability died with her. After a trade from the only pro hockey team he’s ever played for, he’s now playing for the NHL’s Portland Storm. Everyone said he needed a change of scenery, but nothing changes until he rescues Noelle. All of a sudden, the world once again looks bright and he’s lighting the lamp like he used to.

Noelle’s cheerful disposition is just the bit of sunlight Liam needs in his life. He wants to give her everything she needs because she’s everything he wants. The problem? She doesn’t believe she needs anything…at least nothing material. The one thing they both know she truly needs—a real purpose—also happens to be the one thing he doesn’t know how to give her. If he can’t help her find that, she might walk away and take all her sunshine with her.

Book 4, Delay of Game, will release August 21 (iBooks, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Goodreads). Book 4.5, Double Major, releases on September 18 (iBooks, Goodreads). Book 5, In the Zone, will release on November 20 (iBooks, Goodreads).

I will have more pre-order links for Double Major and In the Zone when it gets closer to their releases. Amazon does not currently allow for pre-orders for most indie authors, and therefore I can't give you links to purchase for your Kindle until the books are live. I'm sorry!

Breakaway is FREE

The first book in my Portland Storm series, Breakaway, is free in ebook form.

You can get it free right now at Amazon, iBooks, Kobo, All Romance eBooks, and Smashwords. It should be free at Barnes and Noble sometime soon, but I'm still waiting for that to happen.

She’s reaching for a breakaway pass.

Dana Campbell has spent the past seven years in self-imposed isolation for a crime she didn’t commit. The danger is well in the past, but her panic attacks make it impossible to have a normal, healthy relationship with a man. Even her counselor has given up on her. She has to find someone she trusts to help her fight through the panic, or her seven-year ordeal will become a lifetime sentence. There’s only one man she feels safe enough to ask.

He got caught with his head down.

As the captain of the NHL’s once elite but now fading Portland Storm, Eric Zellinger knows a thing or two about keeping his focus on the job. Questions are flying about his ability to lead the team back to the playoffs. If they don’t make it, he might be shipped out of town. It’s the worst time possible for his best friend’s kid sister to divide his focus. How can he give her what she needs without jeopardizing both the Storm’s playoff hopes and his future with the team?

It’s her only chance, but it’s his last shot.

Delay of Game Pre-orders

Hi, everyone! So, you all know that DELAY OF GAME is releasing on August 21, right?

Well, now you can pre-order it at iBooks, Barnes and Noble, and Kobo. As with LIGHT THE LAMP's pre-order, you can get it for only $0.99. (Amazon customers will have a 2-day window upon release to purchase for $0.99 before it is raised to it's regular price, as they don't offer the pre-order option to everyone. Sorry!)

Here's the back cover copy:

With her father’s health in question, Sara Thomas is focused on reducing his anxiety. That’s no small feat considering his high-stress job, not to mention her own distractions. Everyone knows Sara’s single; no one knows she’s pregnant. There’s never a good time to unexpectedly get knocked up, but now is definitely not it. Regardless, she doesn’t want anyone to know—especially not her father—until she has a game plan in place. But when Jonny, one of her father’s players, seeks vigilante justice on the ice, everything gets tossed out the window.

Cam Johnson’s role as a fourth-line winger with the NHL’s Portland Storm entails more than scoring goals. He has to ensure other teams don’t take liberties with the Storm’s star players. The way Cam sees it, that’s the most important aspect of his job. His teammates call him Jonny; opposing fans call him a goon; the media calls him an enforcer. The title’s unimportant. Cam will always fight for his team—even if he has to break the rules. He’s used to taking penalties, but he never meant for anyone else to suffer from his choices.

When Cam’s actions cause Sara’s worst fears to be realized, he blames himself. He’s screwed everything up; now he has to set things right. Mutual attraction leads to lust, and suddenly Cam is taking penalties at every turn…at least where Sara is concerned. He’s got to think on his feet or he’ll end up with a Delay of Game.

Here's the Goodreads link so you can add it to your bookshelf there.

I'm hoping to be back soon with more pre-order links for more books in the series. :)

More Portland Storm Titles on the Horizon

Not only will DELAY OF GAME release next month, but I've just had covers made for two more new titles within the series--and they will all release before the end of 2014.

Don't forget--you can pre-order it at iBooks, and you can add it to your Goodreads bookshelves. I should have Kobo and Barnes and Noble pre-orders available within the next couple of weeks. I'll share those links as soon as I have them.

So, do you want to know more about those two new titles? Here you go.

Up first, we have DOUBLE MAJOR. DOUBLE MAJOR is going to be out sometime in September, probably around the middle of the month. Yes, that means it should be out only weeks after DELAY OF GAME!

I don't yet have a blurb for it, but it will be a novella that will act as a second epilogue for a number of the earlier books in the series.

Want a few teaser hints about it? Well, from the cover, you can probably imagine that a wedding is involved. The cover also shows an empty arena because it's the off season. No hockey. That doesn't mean there's no hockey news, though. It takes place on draft day.

You'll get "screen" time with Eric, Dana, Brenden, Rachel, Babs, Katie, and maybe several of the others, as well. I'll share more details about it in the coming months, but for now, enjoy the cover and get excited about MORE BABS. :-)

The other book I'll have coming out is called IN THE ZONE. It's going to star Keith Burns, aka Burnzie--one of the Storm's top defensemen. You'll start getting to know him a little better when DELAY OF GAME hits the shelves. The heroine is someone you haven't met yet, but I think you'll love her.

At this point I don't have a blurb or anything more to share with you than that and this cover--and the fact that it will have a November release. Yes! I said November. Meaning before Christmas. Meaning that in less than a year, I'll have released five Portland Storm novels and two novellas. Whew! What a whirlwind.

As soon as I have either of these books set up for pre-orders at iBooks and elsewhere, I'll let you know. In the meanwhile, you can add them to your Goodreads bookshelves if you want. Here's the link for DOUBLE MAJOR, and the link for IN THE ZONE.

I hope you all continue to enjoy this series as much as you have so far. Stay tuned in the coming weeks for some teasers and sneak peeks at DELAY OF GAME.

~Catherine

Out Now - Light the Lamp

Light the Lamp is available now at all major ebook retailers.

Life’s been rough lately for Noelle Payne, but she’s not one to let negativity rule. So, she lost her job? She’ll find another one. The bank foreclosed on the house? Well, she can live out of her car for a while. There’s always an upside to be found…but now Noelle needs to find something to give her life meaning. She owes it to the universe to figure it out, too, because a stranger just saved her life.

When Liam Kallen’s wife died, his goal-scoring ability died with her. After a trade from the only pro hockey team he’s ever played for, he’s now playing for the NHL’s Portland Storm. Everyone said he needed a change of scenery, but nothing changes until he rescues Noelle. All of a sudden, the world once again looks bright and he’s lighting the lamp like he used to.

Noelle’s cheerful disposition is just the bit of sunlight Liam needs in his life. He wants to give her everything she needs because she’s everything he wants. The problem? She doesn’t believe she needs anything…at least nothing material. The one thing they both know she truly needs—a real purpose—also happens to be the one thing he doesn’t know how to give her. If he can’t help her find that, she might walk away and take all her sunshine with her.

You can buy it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iBooks, Kobo, All Romance eBooks, and Smashwords.

Through Saturday only, and only at Amazon, it is available for $0.99 because it was not available at that price as a pre-order. Don't wait. Go get it now before it goes up to its regular price of $4.99.

Light the Lamp

The third full book in the Portland Storm series is on its way. :) Are you ready to LIGHT THE LAMP?

Life’s been rough lately for Noelle Payne, but she’s not one to let negativity rule. So, she lost her job? She’ll find another one. The bank foreclosed on the house? Well, she can live out of her car for a while. There’s always an upside to be found…but now Noelle needs to find something to give her life meaning. She owes it to the universe to figure it out, too, because a stranger just saved her life.

When Liam Kallen’s wife died, his goal-scoring ability died with her. After a trade from the only pro hockey team he’s ever played for, he’s now playing for the NHL’s Portland Storm. Everyone said he needed a change of scenery, but nothing changes until he rescues Noelle. All of a sudden, the world once again looks bright and he’s lighting the lamp like he used to.

Noelle’s cheerful disposition is just the bit of sunlight Liam needs in his life. He wants to give her everything she needs because she’s everything he wants. The problem? She doesn’t believe she needs anything…at least nothing material. The one thing they both know she truly needs—a real purpose—also happens to be the one thing he doesn’t know how to give her. If he can’t help her find that, she might walk away and take all her sunshine with her.

LIGHT THE LAMP will be available in June, 2014. And you can already add it to your Goodreads TBR pile!

Want to be sure you're one of the first to know when LIGHT THE LAMP is available? Sign up for my mailing list and it'll come straight to your email inbox.

Limited Time Sale - Breakaway

For a limited time only, you can get the ebook version of BREAKAWAY for only $0.99.

What's it about?

She’s reaching for a breakaway pass. 

Dana Campbell has spent the past seven years in self-imposed isolation for a crime she didn’t commit. The danger is well in the past, but her panic attacks make it impossible to have a normal, healthy relationship with a man. Even her counselor has given up on her. She has to find someone she trusts to help her fight through the panic, or her seven-year ordeal will become a lifetime sentence. There’s only one man she feels safe enough to ask. 

He got caught with his head down. 

As the captain of the NHL’s once elite but now fading Portland Storm, Eric Zellinger knows a thing or two about keeping his focus on the job. Questions are flying about his ability to lead the team back to the playoffs. If they don’t make it, he might be shipped out of town. It’s the worst time possible for his best friend’s kid sister to divide his focus. How can he give her what she needs without jeopardizing both the Storm’s playoff hopes and his future with the team? 

It’s her only chance, but it’s his last shot.


It's available at this price at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance eBooks, and Smashwords. It WILL be available at the reduced price soon at the iBookstore and Kobo, but at the moment they're still processing the discount.

If you enjoy it, check out the second book in the series, ON THE FLY.

Injury after injury has put Brenden Campbell’s NHL career on hold for years. Now he’s playing for the Portland Storm and determined to make it stick. Few things in life drive him more than being told he can’t have something he wants, and what he wants most is to prove he belongs. Brenden also wants Rachel Shaw, the cute, little redhead who just got hired as the general manager’s new assistant. But then she went and made herself off-limits, telling him: “I don’t date.” Those three words pretty much guarantee that he’ll do everything he can to change her mind. 

Rachel is changing things up on the fly for her family, moving them somewhere she can be the kind of mom her kids deserve. Allowing anyone else to be in their lives is out of the question, at least until her instincts get back on track. How else can she be sure who to steer the kids clear of? Right now she trusts no one, including herself, and especially not a man like Brenden Campbell. He’s way too handsome and a little bit cocky. Falling for a guy like him is a mistake she can’t afford to make twice. 

You can get it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, All Romance eBooks, and Smashwords--it's not yet available at iTunes, but will be soon.

On the Fly - OUT NOW

It's early! But I didn't want to make you wait any longer. You can go put On the Fly on your ereader now.

Injury after injury has put Brenden Campbell’s NHL career on hold for years. Now he’s playing for the Portland Storm and determined to make it stick. Few things in life drive him more than being told he can’t have something he wants, and what he wants most is to prove he belongs. Brenden also wants Rachel Shaw, the cute, little redhead who just got hired as the general manager’s new assistant. But then she went and made herself off-limits, telling him: “I don’t date.” Those three words pretty much guarantee that he’ll do everything he can to change her mind.

Rachel is changing things up on the fly for her family, moving them somewhere she can be the kind of mom her kids deserve. Allowing anyone else to be in their lives is out of the question, at least until her instincts get back on track. How else can she be sure who to steer the kids clear of? Right now she trusts no one, including herself, and especially not a man like Brenden Campbell. He’s way too handsome and a little bit cocky. Falling for a guy like him is a mistake she can’t afford to make twice.

You can buy it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance eBooks, and Smashwords. Coming soon to the iBookstore, Kobo, and other ebook retailers. The print version is also on its way.

On the Fly - Unedited Chapter 1

When I was gearing up for the release of Breakaway, I posted the first few chapters in their unedited form for you. I thought I'd do the same again for On the Fly!


Here's the first chapter, unedited, to get you ready. It'll release at the end of February!

BRENDEN

My thighs had a good burn going, matched only by the burn in my lungs. I fought to take in enough oxygen to get through the laps Hammer and I were skating, trying to ignore the slight twinge in my left foot from my latest broken bone.

That hairline fracture was only one of countless injuries to keep me off the ice and out of hockey games in recent years. Ever since I’d turned pro, it seemed like injuries stalked me like a cat, waiting for another opportunity to pounce and take me out. The bone had healed now, but this was the first time I’d used my foot for anything physical, the first time I’d been able to push myself. That was the only reason it still felt a little sore, or at least that was what I told myself.

Everything on my body felt a little sore, though, and had for years.

“Two more laps around the ice, Soupy—as fast as you can go,” Hammer said. Daniel “Hammer” Hamm was one of the assistant coaches of the Portland Storm, the team I played for in the National Hockey League. Today, he’d been tasked with putting me through my paces, helping to test me to see if I was ready to return to game action. “Come on. Faster.”

Fuck. He didn’t even sound winded, and I could barely breathe.

I’d been out of commission for over five weeks. I’d gotten hurt about a month into the season on a night when we had been playing the Bruins in Boston. For some crazy reason, I’d thought it would be a good idea to block a Zdeno Chara slap shot with my foot. Admittedly, I’d never faced one of his shots before, so I didn’t know just how hard they really were. I might have been putting too much effort into proving I could hack it in the NHL, that I belonged with the big club and not in the minors. Whatever the reason behind it, blocking that shot had blown up in my face.

I probably should’ve been wearing one of those foot guards designed to give extra protection, but I hadn’t been. I’d never liked the feel of them over my skates. It was like they restricted my movement, like they slowed my skating.

Smooth skating and speed had never been areas of strength for me, a point which my dad, himself a former NHL player, was always ready to remind me of. But I couldn’t afford to lose any more speed, so I’d rebelled against the thought of wearing the guards—much like I’d rebelled against wearing a shield on my helmet because it limited my vision. I didn’t need anything else hampering my ability to succeed in this league, even if it meant maybe getting a few more stitches on my face.

Good thing I’d never been vain about my appearance.

My wrist shot and my readiness to go into the dirty areas of the ice were just about the only two things I had going for me to keep me in the NHL. Well, both of those things and a willingness to give up my body for my team. Those skills got me here, and they were what might keep me here—at least once the team’s head doctor cleared me first for contact and then to play.

I sucked in as much air as I could, churning my legs to keep up with Hammer. He had been one fast son of a bitch back in his playing days, before he started coaching. He had always skated with an effortlessness that made no sense at all given his size. Even though he’d retired as a player over a decade ago, he hadn’t lost a step in the speed department.

It was taking everything I had not to get left in his dust.

We turned around the goal and made a final push for center ice. Once I passed it and stopped, I bent over and rested my hands on my knees, heaving as much air in and out of my lungs as I could. I nearly puked, but I forced the bile down.

The rest of the team was just starting to trickle out to the ice for today’s practice. I looked up and saw Eric Zellinger, my best friend and the team captain, watching me from near the bench.

Zee wasn’t just my best friend. Not anymore. He’d started dating my sister, Dana, last season. That had created a gigantic clusterfuck in our relationship, mine and Zee’s, and things still weren’t great between us. Better, definitely, but not like before. It was mainly my fault, and I knew it. It was hard, though, thinking about anyone touching my sister after all she’d been through, knowing how for years after she’d been raped, she’d experienced massive panic attacks when any man touched her—even Dad and me.

Zee gave me a nod, but that was all. He had work to do, and I still wasn’t allowed to be part of it due to my status on the injured reserve list.

Hammer slapped me on the shoulder while I was still fighting to breathe. “Nice work, Soupy. After you get cleaned up and see the doctor, Jim wants a word in his office.”

I wasn’t surprised Jim Sutter, the Storm’s general manager, wanted to see me. All signs pointed to me being cleared for contact for tomorrow. If all went well, then I could be back in the lineup for Friday’s game against the Pittsburgh Penguins.

“Yeah, will do, Hammer.”

He skated away from me, over to the far end of the ice to join the boys for the day’s practice. I made my way to the showers and then to see Dr. Mitchell, the team’s head physician.

Doc took a new set of scans to make sure everything was as it should be. He looked them over, then poked and prodded my foot, looking at it from every angle. “No pain after skating today?”

Pain was all relative, and I couldn’t think of a time in recent memory that I could say I had no pain. Anyone who’d suffered as many injuries in his career as I had would be in a similar position. “It’s a little tender,” I said. “Nothing I can’t fight through, and nothing that won’t be better after more use.”

“How close to ready are you?” Doc put another film up in front of the light, narrowing his eyes at it. “Seventy percent? Eighty?”

“One hundred percent ready to go.” I couldn’t stand sitting around any longer than I had to. The thought of spending even another week watching from the press box with my foot in a walking boot made me feel physically ill. “A little tenderness won’t make me any slower than I already am.”

“Hmm.”

What the fuck did hmm mean? Doc wouldn’t even look at me. He just kept studying my films, flipping through my medical chart.

“So am I cleared?” I asked, not even attempting to hide my frustration. It wasn’t his fault, but I was this close to going insane from being forced to watch from the sidelines. “Can I get back in a game?”

He didn’t answer me. Instead, he scribbled some notes on a notepad that looked like a prescription pad, ripped it off, and put it in an envelope. “You’re heading up to see Jim, right? Give him this.”

Then he handed me the envelope and left, taking my charts and films with him.

Asswipe. He could have just answered my question. How hard would that have been? It would have taken two seconds.

But he hadn’t.

I made my way up to the next level of the building where all the offices for the team executives were located.

At the end of the main hall, in front of a large corner office, Martha Alvarez tucked her silver-gray hair behind her ear and pushed her bifocals up her nose, never even glancing over her computer monitor at me. She was Jim’s assistant, and probably the most efficient person I’d ever met. Nothing ever slipped past her; nothing got lost in the shuffle. If you needed anything, Martha could either handle it or direct you to someone who could.

“Go on in, Campbell,” she said. “Jim’s expecting you.” She pushed a plate of homemade cookies closer to the edge of her desk so I’d see them. Not that I would have missed them. I’d learned early in my time with the Storm that Martha always had cookies at her desk, and I had made a habit of taking full advantage of that fact. It reminded me of my mom.

Martha was one of the few people in the world who didn’t call me Soupy. My family called me Brenden, and Martha called me Campbell. Jim would flip between all of them indiscriminately. He’d played with my dad for a few years, and Dad had always been Soupy to his teammates, too. The use of nicknames is universal in the hockey world, and there is no nickname more readily at a guy’s tongue than Soupy for someone with the last name Campbell.

“Thanks, Martha,” I said. She didn’t acknowledge me, too absorbed in whatever she was doing. I grabbed two cookies and knocked on the open door. “You wanted to see me?” I said when Jim Sutter spun his executive chair around.

He nodded and pointed to the chair across from him. “How’d it feel skating? I told Hammer to really push you, see what you could handle.”

“Felt good.” As good as an intense skate could feel after spending more than a month off my feet, at least. I shoved the envelope across the desk to him. “Doc asked me to give you this.”

“No pain? No tenderness?” Jim pulled Doc’s note out and scanned it, looking through the lower part of his glasses. “Doc says you were pretty winded still when you got to him and that you had some tenderness when he prodded your foot.”

“I’ll be back in game shape in no time. One or two games, that’s all it’ll take.” It was easier to get the kind of conditioning you needed to play hockey by actually playing hockey, more so than skating laps or spending hours on an exercise bike.

“Hmm.”

I was beginning to hate hmm.

“Did he clear me for contact?” I asked when Jim still didn’t elaborate. “I’m ready, Jim. I can contribute. Waiting a few more days or another week won’t change that.”

He set the note down on his desk and took off his glasses. “Doc cleared you. You’re good to join back in full practices with contact starting tomorrow.”

It was about time.

He folded in the earpieces of his glasses and set them on the desk. “But…”

But was worse than hmm. By a fucking mile. I was already grinding my jaw—couldn’t stop myself—and I didn’t have a clue what was coming.

“I need you to get back up to game speed before you jump into a game,” he said. “The boys have been on a pretty good roll lately, really working together and picking up points at a nice clip. I don’t want to mess with that chemistry by bringing someone in who isn’t up to par.”

He was sending me back down to the AHL—to the Seattle Storm, the minor league affiliate of the Portland Storm. He didn’t even have to say the words. I could read it all over his face. I’d had enough conversations with enough GMs in my career to know. “This is bullshit, Jim. One game. That’s all it’ll take.”

He had a placating look in his eye that made me want to punch him. “I can’t afford to have you chasing the game for even one night, Brenden. I don’t need the boys trying to pick up your slack. This won’t be a permanent reassignment—”

“No, just until you trade my ass somewhere else,” I bit off. “Or are you hoping someone will pick me up on waivers?”

“Would you calm down for just a minute? I’m not trading you. I have no plans to trade you. You’re not going on waivers.”

Not going on waivers? That one tripped me up. I sat back in my chair and tried to calm down. I usually had a better grip on my temper, but sitting around with nothing to do for weeks had been eating at me from the inside. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“I want to send you to Seattle on a conditioning assignment. The Collective Bargaining Agreement says you have to consent to the assignment, though, so we need to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to go to Seattle. I want to play here.”

“I know you do. We want you to, as well.” Jim leaned forward, his elbows propping him up on his desk. “Here’s the deal. Scotty and I watched you with Hammer out there today. We don’t think you’re ready to get back in a game, not with how the boys have been playing without you. If you go to Seattle, you’ll play tomorrow. If you stay here, you’ll keep working with Hammer and watching from the press box until Scotty thinks you’ve earned your way back into the lineup—or until one of the guys gets hurt or stops performing as well as he needs to. That might be a few games. It might be a few weeks. We need you to be as good as we know you can be from the minute you step out on the ice. Anything less isn’t enough.”

It might not be as bad as I’d initially assumed, but I still didn’t want to do it. “But you need my okay?” I was trying to determine which would be worse—getting sent back to the minors for a few games or sitting in the press box for a few more.

“It would only be for a week. Seattle has three games on the schedule, all at home. No travel. You’d get top-line minutes, and then you’d be back with us.”

“You swear you’re not going to put me on waivers as soon as this conditioning assignment is up?”

“I didn’t sign you over the summer for you to get paid that kind of money and play in Seattle,” Jim said. “I signed you to play here.”

I knew he was telling it to me straight, but my natural instinct was to be distrustful of GMs. Too many of them had given up on me. Too many had told me one thing and done another. It didn’t matter that he was one of Dad’s old buddies. I had a really hard time trusting Jim Sutter on this, even though he personally had done nothing to earn my distrust.

“Yeah,” I said. “Right.”

“They’ll be expecting you in time for tomorrow morning’s practice. I’ll have Martha arrange a hotel for you, and we’ll see you back here in a week.”

I started to argue again, even though I didn’t know what my argument would be when I’d opened my mouth, but Martha knocked and opened the door, stopping me before anything came out.

“Rachel Shaw’s here, Jim.”

“Tell her I’ll be right with her,” he said. Then he turned back to me. “So you’ll do this conditioning assignment, right? You’re not going to fight me on it? I believe this is what’s best both for you and for the Storm.”

I scowled. If I went to Seattle, at least I would be put in some games. Not the games I wanted to be in, but it was something. He’d made no bones about what would happen if I stayed in Portland. Damn it. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

He got up and shook my hand, and I made my way out.

I was fuming so much that I almost ran headfirst into the most hauntingly beautiful, petite redhead I’d ever laid eyes on. She took three quick steps backward, and I put out my hand to help steady her. Her green eyes went wide, and her lips parted into an O. It was like Tinkerbell had sprinkled fairy dust all over her nose and cheeks and left freckles behind.

She was totally not my type, or at least not my usual type. I tend to go for leggy brunettes, girls who were completely put together in every conceivable way. This woman couldn’t look more out of place. Her clothes were probably from a thrift shop and didn’t fit her well, her hair was running riot out of her ponytail holder, her coat wasn’t nearly heavy enough for the local weather, and the fabric of her purse was dingy and covered in what looked to be cat hair.

Despite all of that, I couldn’t stop staring at her.

Holy shit.

“I’m sorry,” I said when I pulled myself back together again. “I should have been paying attention to where I was going.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

She didn’t look fine, though. She looked terrified. I really hoped I wasn’t the reason for her fear, but I figured I was. She gave a brief shake of her head and separated herself from me. In a single movement, she tucked a wild curl behind her ear and settled her purse strap more fully over her shoulder. Then she made a wide circle around me, going with Martha into Jim’s office, peeking over her shoulder at me as she disappeared inside.

So this was Rachel Shaw, then. Whoever Rachel Shaw was.

“Yeah. All right,” I said to her back. I spent too long watching her before heading back down to the locker room. I figured I should go ahead and sort out what gear I needed to take with me. I couldn’t get her out of my head, though. She definitely had a nice ass, this Rachel Shaw. Very nice. Curvy, over her short legs.

And that was pretty much the last thing in the world I needed to be thinking about, the curvy ass of some random, tiny redhead with fairy-dust freckles.

        Not when I had to prove to myself and everyone else I should be playing in the NHL.

RACHEL

It really shouldn’t have been so hard to concentrate on this interview. Not when I’d become such an old pro at them in recent days. But I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about the man who’d run straight into me a few minutes ago. He’d been huge. I mean, I knew professional athletes were bigger than your everyday sort of man in general, and no one would ever call my five foot two tall, but holy cow.

Talk about an imposing presence. And if I was going to work for an NHL team, I was going to be around guys his size all the time. At least Maddie wouldn’t be around them, though. It wouldn’t be so bad for me, and I needed a job.

I might have been able to stop myself from thinking about him if he hadn’t been so good-looking. Not just everyday good-looking, but like a movie star—a bit like Pierce Brosnan, back in his younger days. I thought all hockey players were supposed to be missing half their teeth and have bent, broken noses and stitches and bruises everywhere. He’d had a long scar on one cheek that had faded to a pinkish hue, but that was pretty much the only flaw I could find on his chiseled cheekbones, perfectly straight nose, and piercing brown eyes.

And that was more than just a little disarming.

“I’m a little curious,” Mr. Sutter said, peering at me over the top of his glasses and jolting me back to the task at hand, “why the employment agency would send you to interview for an administrative position when your prior work experience is all in manufacturing.”

I knew that look he was giving me. The doubt. I’d been to a dozen interviews in the last week, and every single one of them had dismissed even the tiniest little inkling of a thought of hiring me, straight out of hand, for no reason other than I’d never done any administrative work before.

Well, not all of them. The woman at the doctor’s office on Friday hadn’t let that part bother her. Her problem had been the fact that I didn’t have a college education, that I only had a GED instead of a high school diploma.

I just needed someone—anyone—to look past my lack of experience and education, to give me a chance. I could do anything I put my mind to, and I’d prove it, but I could only prove it if someone gave me the opportunity.

I fought back my frustrations and took a breath to clear my head. “I’m looking for a change,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “I don’t have anyone to help me with my kids, so I need something with comparable hours to when they’ll be in school. When I worked in manufacturing, it was always second shift. I was at work when they were at home.”

And that was when all hell had broken loose.

I couldn’t go much longer without work. I had to have something, and I needed it now. There were only so many more nights I could afford the hotel room and to buy meals for my kids, Madison and Tucker. It wouldn’t be long before we’d go completely through the dregs of my cashed-out 401(k), and then what would I do? Sell the car? It wouldn’t be very easy to get to a job without a car. Besides, I doubted it would bring in much, as old as it was.

Mrs. Alvarez leaned closer to me and narrowed her eyes. She intimidated me more than Mr. Sutter did. It was her eyes. It was like she could see through you, see all the bits of yourself that you’d rather keep private.

I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs in the opposite direction.

“But you did have someone to help when you were in Texas?” she asked.

“I did. I don’t anymore.”

He would damn sure never step foot near my kids again. Thinking about Jason now would only make my blood boil, though. Either that or make me cry. One of the two, neither of which would help me get this job.

“Hmm,” Mr. Sutter said.

That was usually what interviewers said right before they thanked me for my time and ushered me out the door. I had no intention of letting that happen again today. I couldn’t stop myself. I was getting to be a bit desperate, or maybe a lot desperate, and desperation made me do stupid things.

“Look,” I said before I thought better of it, definitely more emphatically than I’d said anything since stepping foot in this building. “I’m a hard worker, as hard a worker as you will ever come across. I may not know how to do everything you need me to do yet, but I’ve never faced a challenge I couldn’t meet, and I learn fast. I was an honor student in high school until I got pregnant. I worked in manufacturing because that was the only job I could get without a high school diploma other than working a drive-through window, and manufacturing paid better and gave me benefits that a job in fast food couldn’t.” I finally took a breath and looked to see what sort of reaction my speech had garnered.

Instead of glaring at me like he wanted to kick me out of his office for practically begging for a job, Jim Sutter looked…I don’t know, interested. That shocked me. It shocked me a lot, actually.

“Do you know how to type?” he asked, leaning back in his chair with his hands forming a steeple in front of him. “How to use word processors and spreadsheets, that sort of thing?”

I nodded. “I learned in middle school.”

Mrs. Alvarez stared at me and then scanned the résumé I’d given them. She brought her eyes back up to meet mine. “You don’t have a phone number on here and the address is a hotel. What are you running away from?”

“I…” Okay, so maybe I only thought I was shocked before. I wasn’t prepared to answer questions like this. It seemed too personal. But I needed a job, and this was starting to feel like it might be my only real chance to get one. “Someone hurt my kid. He can’t hurt her anymore. He’s in prison. I wanted to give her a fresh start, a chance to reset and make her life what she wants it to be.” I wanted that for all of us, not just Maddie…but especially for her.

“That’s why you left Texas,” Mrs. Alvarez said while Mr. Sutter just sat back and let her take over the interview. “But why did you come to Portland? Of all the places you could have gone, why here? You said you don’t have anyone to help with the kids, so what brought you?”

My reason sounded stupid, even to me. I let out a half-laugh, but I told them anyway. “When I was a kid, my parents brought us here on a family vacation once. We saw all the sights, did the whole tourist thing. But on our last day, they brought us to Powell’s City of Books, and I thought it was the best thing ever, books upon books upon books. I could get lost in there and never want to be found. I thought maybe something like that would be good for my daughter, a place where she could live in someone else’s world for a while.” A fictional world was a heck of a lot better than her reality, lately.

With that pathetic explanation, I was pretty sure they’d be ending the interview any minute. Who picks up and moves their family halfway across the country because of a freaking bookstore? No one sane.

I probably wasn’t sane anymore. Good grief, how did this interview get so twisted around? Why had I let it? I probably should just end it myself, thank them and then get up and walk out, see what other employers the agency could send me to.

“Have you taken her to Powell’s yet?” Mr. Sutter asked before I could do that.

I nodded. “Over the weekend.”

“And did it help?”

Maddie, Tuck, and I had spent the whole afternoon there on Saturday, visiting each of the many floors, following the map to find where all our favorite types of books would be. When they called it a “city of books,” they weren’t kidding. It was just as magical a place as I remembered it being. Sure enough, Maddie and Tuck had both found a stack of books to explore, and we had holed up in a corner and read for hours.

I’d felt bad that we were spending so much time there and reading so many books, treating it like it was a library and not a store. So when we left, I’d given in and bought each of them a book. That just meant I’d be eating ramen noodles for my lunches instead of something more filling, at least for a while. It was worth it to be able to buy books for my kids, though. Maddie had already finished her book and had started reading it again, and today was only Monday.

“Yeah,” I finally said. “It’s helping.”

He nodded, but then he stared at me for so long that it made me squirm.

Mrs. Alvarez straightened the stack of papers in front of her and then said to him, “She’s the one.”

The one what?

“She is,” Mr. Sutter said without explaining. He got up from behind his desk and came around it, then sat down in an empty chair between me and Mrs. Alvarez. He took off his glasses and stared at me. “If you’re going to be my new assistant and learn how to replace Martha, I can’t have you living in a hotel with your kids. Why are you?”

If it hadn’t already been too personal, now it really was, but I felt oddly comfortable talking to him. To both of them. “I can’t sign a lease until I have a job, a source of income. Until I have enough money for a deposit and rent.”

“We’re more of a family than a company here,” he said, “the Portland Storm organization. It’s not just a team. We take care of our own.”

        I didn’t have the first clue what he meant by that.