PUCKED is LIVE
I'm so pucking excited to share this with you!
With a famous NHL player for a stepbrother, Violet Hall is well acquainted with the playboy reputation of many a hockey star. She isn’t interested in legendary team captain, Alex Waters, or his pretty, beat-up face and rock-hard six-pack abs. When Alex inadvertently obliterates Violet’s misapprehension regarding the inferior intellect of hockey players, he becomes much more than just a hot body with the face to match.Suffering from a complete lapse in judgment, Violet discovers just how good Alex is with the hockey stick in his pants. Violet believes her night of orgasmic magic with Alex is just that: one night. But Alex starts to call. And text. And email and send extravagant—and quirky—gifts. Suddenly, he's too difficult to ignore, and nearly impossible not to like.
The problem is, the media portrays Alex as a total player, and Violet doesn’t want to be part of the game.
“What you said about your beaver, is it true?”
It sounds so ridiculous; I laugh uncontrollably.
“F$#k me,” Alex mutters.
I stop laughing. First off because I think it’s an actual request. Secondly, I have this fantastic image of me underneath him.
“It’s true.” My voice is all breathy and soft, courtesy of the porno running through my head.
“Seriously?” He sounds excited. Like really, really excited.
“About stroking my beaver? No. Beavers are dangerous. They shouldn’t be stroked.”
“Can you stop saying 'beaver'? Look, what are you doing right now?”
“Drinking beer and watching porn, why?” Tomorrow I’m sure I’ll be appropriately ashamed of the content of this conversation. For now, I’m thoroughly entertained.
“Because I’m standing outside your suite. Do you want company?”
I sit up so fast, the room spins. “You are not.”
“I am. Suite six-oh-nine. Want me to knock?”
“No! Don’t! Hold on.”
I sprint across the room and yank the bedroom door open. The common living room is empty. I consider a tuck and roll across the floor for fun, but I’m uncoordinated, so I settle for running. Throwing open the door, I find Alex with his jacket slung over one arm and his phone to his ear.
I step out into the hall. “You weren’t kidding.”
I follow his gaze. Oh yes, now I remember. I’m wearing Spiderman jammies designed to fit pre-pubescent boys. It’s cold in the hallway and I’m braless, which draws attention to my chest. My nipples are clearly saluting him through the threadbare fabric.
“I forgot my lace teddies at home.” I almost wish I owned one, except lace is uncomfortable and impractical. “What are you doing here?” I cup my boobs to protect my nipples from further visual molestation.
His eyes drop for a split second, as if my nipples have their own force field, and then return to my face. “I, uh . . . do you want to hang out?”
I cringe. “I’m staying with my parents.”
“You could come up to my suite.”
“I was going to bed.” So lame.
And there’s the smile again. He rocks those damn dimples. The banged-up face and the bruises seem to elevate the level of pretty.
“I’m not having sex with you.” Dear Lord, my mouth needs a censor.
He doesn’t even flinch. “That’s cool. I wasn’t expecting sex.”
“Really?” I assumed by hang out he clearly meant get naked.
“Really. Promise.” He puts his hand over his heart, his eyes softening as his cheeks flush. He’s blushing. It’s kind of cute.
“Oh. Well, then. I guess—I’ll get changed.” There I am, agreeing to go up to a hot-as-hell hockey player’s room in the middle of the night for not-sex.
As always, I could never do this without all the input, love, and support of the people who helped make this book possible.
The list is virtually endless, but special thanks goes to my husband for allowing me to pursue my dream.
To my team at Write Divas; Lauren and Jen for editing this beast, Marla for being a final set of eagle eyes, especially with all the last minute changes, Shannon Lumetta for the amazing cover art and all my swaggity swag, Mayhem Cover Creations for the awesome interior work--I love all the beavers and the tiny little details.
My author friends: Debra you're one of my best friends and you're always there for me, no matter what, I love the crap out of you (quite literally sometimes). Emma for being so incredibly sweet and kind, Daisy for walking me through a million things, Liv for being a sounding board. SL for bringing me to the 101 girls, Shay and Adam (TST) for all your generosity of time and your amazing support.
To my Filets for having had my back through this entire journey, the HH Street Team and the Locker Room ladies for always getting excited about the ridiculousness I write.
To Alex, my dear friend, for having worked with me on so many an MS and my Writers Collective team for being the voice in my head as I edit, the Fandom for giving me a place to figure this whole thing out in the first place.
To Kimberly Brower at RF Literary, and Meire and Flavia at Bookcase Agency for being an amazing team. I'm so excited for whatever comes next!
Nina Bocci; you're incredible. I have no idea what I would do without you, you're made of magic.
To my family, thank you for all your support. I love you.
Now everyone go GET