LATEST NEWS & UPDATE:

Y'all! I have a new release that I wanted to share with you guys!

FREE HOLIDAYHOCKEY ANTHOLOGY!

LIMITED TIME DOWNLOAD 

Download on BookFunnel: 

https://BookHip.com/VKCMFXT

Making your holiday season HOT with hockey heroes who will melt the ice and your hearts.

Hockey romance is always in season, but it’s even better when you can read it while sipping spiked eggnog next to a roaring fire where these steamy holiday hockey stories will melt the ice.

Melting the Ice (A Holiday Hockey Anthology) includes 14 holiday hockey stories from your favorite romance authors meant to deck your halls and make your season bright! Check out these fun and festive stories from:

• Andi Burns
• Cathryn Fox
• Evey Lyon
• Jennifer Sucevic
• Kimberly Readnour
• Kim Findlay
• Lasairiona McMaster
• Laura Marquez Diamond
• Lisa Lang Blakeney
• Mari Carr
• RC Stephens
• Sierra Hill

Here's the one line blurb for my story in this gorgeous hockey romance anthology: When Taryn's cheater ex boyfriend won't give her stuff back, hockey player Cooper Duke takes matters into his own hands.

Grab the anthology now!

And here's a little Chapter One teaser:

Chapter 1

Taryn

I’ve never been homeless before.

I guess there’s a first time for everything.

After Brad, I said I’d never cry over another guy again. Yet here I am, sitting like a pathetic loser, in a house that isn’t mine, two days before Christmas, because another jackass broke my heart.

Fucking Kyle.

What is it about me that screams “fuck me up, fuck me over, shred my heart and leave me broken”? I need to figure it out because I’m done. I’m so done. I’m so fucking done that I’m fighting every urge deep inside my body to torch this house.

That’s not fair. There’s nothing wrong with the house. It’s a perfectly nice house. I’m told it has plenty of bedrooms, it’s surprisingly clean, and it’s currently empty because all the hockey gods who live here are away for Christmas vacation. Wait, I take it back, this foyer space I’m loitering in is surprisingly clean. I haven’t wandered into the belly of the hockey house yet. I’m just kind of... sitting here.

It does have a faint smell of sweat lingering in the air. I wonder if one of the hockey gods left their equipment here by accident, or if it’s just a permanent fixture.

Eau de Stink.

Savannah—one of my favorite regulars at my coffee shop, Bitches Brew, told me I could come here to hide out. She dropped me off, gave me her boyfriend’s key—captain Justin Ashe—and told me she’d be back in an hour to help get me settled for a few days.

I’m kind of afraid to move, or touch anything, and I’m half expecting a drunk straggler to stumble down the stairs and scare the shit out of me.

I’ve been here for about fifteen minutes, and I’m oscillating between nuclear level rage and soul deep despair. I can’t find level ground.

Fucking Kyle.

I wonder if any of the hockey hot shots left their stick around. I’ve seen a hockey game before, I know that those sticks they play with can be dangerous as fuck.

It would be the perfect weapon to beat Kyle-the-cheater Baker over the head with a few dozen times.

We’d been together for three years, lived together for two. When I got back from my shift this morning and found him fucking my now former best friend in the ass, I knew I had to leave. I didn’t take any of my things, and now he’s refusing to give them to me until we talk.

I know what talk means to Kyle, he doesn’t want to talk. He wants to gaslight me into thinking I have the wrong idea about his cock being buried in my friend’s poop-shoot and to make me feel like I have no other options but to take him back.

I stomped my ass back to the coffee shop and just kinda sat there waiting for a solution to tap me on the shoulder. Savannah was that solution, an angel of mercy who must have noticed from all the irritated muttering I was doing to myself, that something was wrong.

I couldn’t go home. Not only do my parents not live in Iowa, but I’m pretty sure I’d lose the will to live with their told-you-so attitude. They hated Kyle from the get-go and never bothered keeping their opinion about him to themselves. I don’t need to hear how they’ve known all along that he’s a snake. Nor do I want to admit they were right.

I do a slow turn, taking in my new surroundings. I know I have permission to be here, but it feels... awkward. I’ve heard about these sports team houses on campus. I bet every surface of this place is covered with bodily fluids of some kind. Maybe it’s a sex-sweat smell I’m getting, and not a hockey boy smell.

Either way, this isn’t how anything is supposed to be. I thought he was going to propose to me.

A choked sob escapes me as I collapse into another wave of despair. We were supposed to be end-game. My former best friend was going to be my bridesmaid. I feel like such a fucking idiot. How long were they together? Were they laughing about me behind my back?

Poor, pathetic, clueless Taryn.

Maybe these hockey gods have ice cream. Ice cream will help this sharp, stabbing pain in my chest, right?

Right.

I tiptoe my way into the kitchen. There are a few dishes left in the sink. If no one’s coming back to clean them until after the Christmas break, they’re going to smell worse than the boy funk. I roll up my sleeves and angry wash the dishes, doing my best not to smash them as I rant out loud to myself about fucking Kyle.

Well, not fucking him, fucking him. Sigh. If I’m honest with myself, and I often try not to be because nothing good ever comes of that, he really didn’t know how to use his micro dick. Okay, that’s cruel. Kyle doesn’t have a micro dick, but he also wasn’t furnished with a ginormocock either.

People say size matters. I don’t believe that to be true. I think dudes can have perfectly adorable little packages as long as they know what to do with them. I don’t think Kyle cared enough about my pleasure to give a shit what he did with his dick. If he did, he wouldn’t have stuck it in my best friend.

He is really fucking good with his fingers, though. When he made the effort.

Picking up a pointed knife the length of my forearm, I pause for just a second and wonder how Kyle would feel if I severed his peen. I’m not generally a violent person, but the level of betrayal is, well, it warrants at least the thought of physical violence.

He slept with my best friend, and he’s now holding all my earthly possessions hostage.

Yeah. Fuck the dishes, I need that ice cream, STAT. I grab a clean spoon from the drawer and stalk toward the oversized fridge-freezer. I can’t help but snort at the giant, wall-mounted wine rack that isn’t filled with wine at all. Each of the criss cross wooden slots are filled with cylindrical tubs of potato chips instead of glass bottles of alcohol. This place isn’t furnished like regular student accommodation. From the shiny black double doors, to the fancy ice dispenser, this place reeks of money.

I know the de la Peñas are the hockey cash cows of the group. It’s hard not to know that they’re sons of a billionaire when their father’s face is plastered all over Cedar Rapids. But I also know they don’t live here at the hockey house.

Did they inject this place with money to make their teammates’ lives a little nicer?

Huh. That’s kind of nice. I rub at my chest, the spoon clenched in a balled fist. Maybe not all guys are assholes after all. I close my eyes for just a second, and the image of Kyle drilling Leah’s ass like he was trying to nail her to the wall assaults me.

Why do I always have to choose the assholes?

I really need ice cream. I can’t face more flashbacks without some cold delicious treat melting on my tongue and giving me a hit of serotonin. I open the freezer, half expecting to find it empty. But there’s a gallon tub of Blue Bell rocky road staring back at me from the shelf. I’d prefer butter pecan, but this is a dairy emergency, and I don’t have the luxury of being picky.

There’s a label pasted across the front of it with the name Duke written across it in chicken scratch handwriting, and I have to wonder just how effective labeling your groceries is in a house full of hungry athletes. Sorry, Duke, I’ll have to owe you a new tub of rocky road, because I’m about to get up close and personal with this entire gallon.

I rip off the lid like some kind of animal before closing the freezer door. Instead of gliding through the ice cream, my spoon kind of thunks off it. It’s too hard—that’s what she said—but I don’t have the patience, or the emotional stability to wait for it to soften before I take a bite.

I stab at the frozen dessert, pleading with it for a second before grunting and muttering cuss words instead. Maybe it prefers dirty talk to begging nicely. I'm not sure if I'm swearing at the ice cream for being like concrete, or the fact that I would rather be jamming my spoon into my cheating scumbag ex’s jugular.

It’s possibly both.

Fine, it’s definitely both.

I finally get a suitable spoonful of ice cream and as it melts on my tongue, I tip my head back and moan. Break up ice cream is the best. It’s not curing my emotional damage by any means, but it sure does taste fucking good. I manage another scoop before I decide to take my stolen cream delight back into the foyer where I’ll wait for Savannah to come back and make me adult again.

I tuck the spoon in my mouth, hug the extra-large tub of ice cream against my chest, and turn to go back the way I came.

Oh no.

There’s a near-naked wet dude leaning against the door frame, a towel wrapped around his waist, arms folded across his shiny, broad chest, his eyes sparkling as he watches me.

My jaw drops open, the spoon hits the deck with a clang, and a piece of something hits the back of my throat as I suck in a gasp.

He has floppy brown hair, warm green eyes that are a little mischievous, and he’s built like a brick shithouse.

Water sluices down his chest, and I can’t help but follow the trail it leaves down his six pack with my eyes. On closer inspection, it’s more like a twelve pack. A really delicious, firm looking twelve pack.

His hand moves, guiding my gaze back to his face. His lazy, lopsided smile makes me want to smack his smug face. “My eyes are up here.” He points to the tub in my arms. “And that’s my ice cream.”

Grab it here, y'all - and grab it FAST! Cooper Duke might be my favorite hero to date!! Who wants their short story turned into a full length novel? Because I DO!!

Until next time,

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Justin

I thought I’d left my past in Minnesota when I moved to Iowa, but it was right there waiting for me.

Long blonde hair, curves in all the right places, and a death glare that hits harder than a slap shot to the solar plexus. On the ice, I’m a pro at blocking shots, but Savannah Bowen has slipped behind all my defenses and made a home in my heart.

I had no intention of revisiting the past, but when she’s damn near everywhere I go, I’m a goner.

Savannah

Hell freakin’ no.

It doesn’t matter that Justin Ashe is seven feet tall and sexy as sin, or that I’ve had a crush on him for years. He cheated on my best friend in high school, and that makes him off limits.

I can’t be with him, but damn, it’s impossible to stay away from him. Girl Code says uteruses before duderuses.

He’s supposed to be my enemy, but the more I see of him, the blurrier the lines get.

Welcome to UCR hockey, where fierce AF heroines and hot as puck heroes find their hockey ever afters. If you pucking love college hockey romance series, you’ll adore UCR Raccoons hockey.

FREEZING THE PUCK is a delicious slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, ovaries before brovaries sports romance. This interconnected full-length stand-alone is the first in a new series with no cheating or cliffhangers and has a guaranteed happily-ever-after.

Bookish. Bold. Beautiful. And entirely out of his league.

On paper, all-American boy next door, Lincoln Scott, has it all. But behind his slap shots, straight-A report card, and easy going charm, Linc hides a secret only his best friend knows.

When he attempts to return a misplaced bra, a wrong number gets him way more than the hook-up he bargained for. No one has ever looked beyond the star hockey player, until the mysterious woman he can’t stop texting sees him for who he really is.

Does Linc have the skills off the ice to keep up with her? Will he follow in his father’s footsteps? Or will he step out from the shadows and chase his dreams?

If you’re pucking obsessed with Helena Hunting, Pippa Grant, and Elle Kennedy, you’ll love this hilarious, hot-as-puck, secret identity, opposites attract, curvy girl sports romance. Two for Interference is a full length standalone with no cheating, cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Welcome to the Minnesota Snow Pirates, where skilled and sexy mother puckers’ lives get turned upside down by strong and badass heroines. Curl up with your next book boyfriend today.