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Howdy, y'all,

Happy March! I'm a shit poet, and I know it (see also: subject line and preview text of this newsletter!)

My birthday month is over, and my son's birthday month is upon us. Do you know how expensive it gets when we have Christmas, Col's January birthday, my February birthday, and then the kid's March birthday?

The answer is very my friends. Very expensive.

March is also the month you fiiiiinally get to meet Athena and Scott in their story. After my last newsletter, I did have a couple of you reach out upset with me about the content warnings and what's to come in this book.

All I can say is that as an inclusive, diverse, and openly queer author, sometimes my books aren't going to be for your liking. But I like to think that even if I write one that you may not be down for, there's every chance the next one may be.

I will also write the 100% authentic stories that my characters tell me to write (hence taking a beat on Artemis to write the story he needs me to write, versus the story I had already planned out for him...)

There is always the risk with your favorite characters from the series that you're not going to enjoy their book for whatever reason. And often, no matter what the author does, or doesn't do, they can't live up to the story you've written about them in your mind.

There's nothing I can do about that, other than just keep trying.

Like I've said a number of times, this book almost didn't happen at all, so when it did, I absolutely took it how it came out, because the alternative was their story never got told. And that's something I won't apologise for.

On that note, here's my content warning, my timeline warning, and chapters one and two of the book to try to tempt you into hitting the preorder button.

To preorder Athena and Scott, go here

Link to copy: https://books2read.com/rtp

Content Warning

This book contains certain subjects that some readers may be sensitive to, including but not limited to:

Chronically slow burn

Pining. Soooooo. Much. Freakin. Pining.

Underage drinking

Premature ejaculation – our hero just can’t help himself and on at least one occasion blows his load in his pants

Extreme feminist and ‘woke’ views

Period sex *GASP* Yes, they bang while Aunt Flo is in town.

Breeding Kink

Rape – on page

Ethical non-monogamy: One or both of the main characters will bang someone who isn’t the other main character. It’s an FFM scene.

As with every book with content warnings or potentially sensitive subjects, please be cautious when undertaking this story and take care of your mental health.

Timeline Warning

Dearest really, really nice reader who won’t flay me for a little hand-wavery on my timeline...

I tried with this series, I really did. I learned from the Snow Pirates that I needed to improve my timeline with the Raccoons, and I did. I was doing better. I swear! But this year took a severe nosedive personally, and I wrote Penelope and Tate during a high-stress, high-cortisol, low spoons point in my life and I wasn’t as careful with their details as I should have been.

Therefore, their book shunted my timeline off the rails a bit (translation: a lot). I accidentally aged up SOME of my characters. (Apollo, Artemis, Scott, and Ares by one year but not anyone else). 

Can we just collectively agree to roll with it, and not come for me... Please? Pretend that it’s all a very nice and tidy timeline, and that it’s not a hot mess? Please?

Cool. I appreciate it. Because it’s been giving me sleepless nights, and I just can’t go back and un-fuck myself, because I need to keep moving forward.

SO, in effect, here’s who’s who and what’s what (my glamorous assistant Alyssa will check this over before I send it out to make sure I didn’t fuck it up again!)

Athena and Scott’s story happens after Lighting the Lamp (Raffi and Tori’s story) and Dropping the Mitts (Tate and Penelope’s story) and will (theoretically because I’m human and created a god-awful mess of this timeline and will strive to do better in my next series!!!) have Raffi (not playing) and Athena in their 4th year of college, and Apollo, Artemis, and Scott in their 3rd year, and Ares in his 2nd year.

I appreciate your understanding during this difficult time ;-)

Lasairiona x

Now, for those of you who like to be teased and worked up into a fervor... here's a chapter 1 teaser just for you:

Chapter 1

[Author Note: Please excuse my intrusion, but in case your Kindle opened at Chapter 1 and not at the content warnings, please be advised that this book contains an on-page rape as well as ethical non-monogamy (one of the main characters sleeps with someone who isn’t the other main character with their partner’s permission) in later chapters.]

Athena

(Seventeen years old)

November 2019: The Meet Cute

I hate people.

Generally speaking, I’m not the kind of person who’ll stop for a broken down car at the side of the highway. Stranger danger and all that jazz.

But it’s cold as balls, and that dilapidated Camry with a rusty, discolored trunk lid and a UCR Raccoons bumper sticker next to an annoyingly flickering tail light, has been parked outside my house more than once lately.

And the well-wrapped up guy—Scott, if memory serves and assuming he’s the one driving—seems to be struggling to change a tire. I haven’t met him, but I’ve seen the back of his head as he walked toward his vehicle a couple weeks ago.

Crouched next to his car, he blows into his clutched hands, steam pluming into the air before he flexes his fingers then presses down on the end of a tire iron with both hands.

Having three younger brothers has its perks, they’ve taught me well. If it were left to our parents, I’d be hopeless. “Just call the tow truck, mija. Let someone else fix it.” Story of my fucking life.

That seems to be the family motto: Let someone else fix it. Papá in particular. Not one to get his hands dirty. If he can outsource it, he will, especially if it’s cheap to do so.

I, on the other hand, don’t like to be reliant on other people, not anyone, not for anything. Especially not my three younger brothers. Despite the easily accessible wealth I was born into, throwing money at things to make them go away isn’t really my thing. I like to get my hands dirty, and I fucking love cars.

I don’t really have time to change someone else’s tire, though, and I’d rather not get frost bitten nips in the sub-zero Iowan temperatures. But, this guy is on my brothers’ high school hockey team. If he’s late for the same game I’m on my way to, he’ll undoubtedly earn laps for everyone on the team. That asshole of a coach thinks he’s putting NHL players through basic military training rather than high school kids trying to win the national championship crown.

Plus, I’m going to the game anyway. It’s not like it’s out of my way.

“Need a hand?” I’m speaking as soon as I crack the door open, my words landing in the frigid air on a puff of steam. Fuck, it’s cold.

He doesn’t look my direction, but shakes his head. “Think I’ve got it.” He presses down with both hands, but the tire iron doesn’t budge. Certainly doesn’t look like he’s got it.

“Are you sure?” I inch closer to him, his cheeks and nose are bright red. It’s a colder than average Iowan November, and he’s bundled up like the Michelin man with an oversized puffy jacket shrinking his body.

He turns to answer me, nose scrunched up. “I can figure it out.” When his eyes meet mine, his face softens, and surprise flits across his features. “You can change a tire?”

I huff out a sigh. “Anything you can do, I can do better.” I snort. I’ve spent my entire life living in the shadow of a penis, lots of penises, in fact. First, my father, billionaire, aeronautics mogul, and all-around asshole, and then, once my brothers were born, the enormous peen-shadow grew.

They’re not particularly dickish, and when they are, I remind them of their inordinate privilege for being the superior gender which is apparently determined just by having a cock and balls dangling between their legs.

If only life was so clear cut.

Nothing raises my competitive hackles more than a dude telling me I can’t do something, or questioning my ability.

This guy’s lucky I haven’t ripped the tire iron from his trembling hands and knocked some sense into him.

He smirks, amusement lighting up his eyes as his brow twitches. “Is that so?”

I nod, folding my arms and hoping they’ll keep the quickly dwindling heat supply from escaping my body. “Seems like you’re struggling to figure it out yourself. Did you try reading the instructions?”

He snickers, pushing down on the bar once again. “Cars don’t come with instructions on how to change the tires. And I don’t need instructions, I know the how. The lug nut is stuck.”

“A likely excuse. And for your information, they do come with instructions, it’s called an owner’s manual.” I nudge him out of the way with my knee. “Let me try.”

He inches back, pursing his lips like he’s fighting a grin and waves an open hand at the conundrum in front of him. “Be my guest.”

I don’t get nervous under someone’s watchful stare, in fact, I tend to excel under pressure. So the expectant look on his face doesn’t make me waver. I press down on the bar and... Nothing. It doesn’t move.

I try again, the damn thing isn’t budging.

To his credit, he doesn’t so much as smirk in my direction. Instead, his brows furrow even deeper, like he’d secretly hoped I’d be able to make it work. He pulls his phone out from his pocket and sneaks a glance at the screen.

“In a hurry?”

He gnaws on the inside of his cheek. “You could say that.” 

With a nod, I put my Ugg-boot-clad foot on top of the bar and lift my other foot from the road. It’s not recommended, and given the frosty conditions it’s probably stupid, but sometimes you need your whole body weight and a helping hand from gravity to loosen the nuts when they’re stiff.

And I’ve never really been one to half-ass anything. I’m a whole-ass kind of girl.

It sounded like a good idea at the time, but when my feet both slip, go out from under me, and I’m somehow falling in slow motion onto my brothers’ teammate, I instantly regret my decision.

Not even into his arms, nope, I’m not that lucky. My fall catches us both off-guard, and instead of a graceful, dainty fall into the open arms of an attractive hockey player, I splat on top of him like a fucking cartoon character.

“Oof.” A puff of breath-vapor meets the air as he takes the weight of my fall.

“Shit.”

I’m on my back, lying on his chest like an upended freakin’ turtle, legs and arms flailing. My frozen brain seems unable to figure out how to get back up on my feet, so I simply flap harder.

He bands an arm around my waist and flips us like a double-yolked egg.

Except now, he’s the big spoon to my little spoon, and his crotch is perfectly aligned with my—

“Whoa, whoa, whoaaaaa.”

I turn just in time to see his hands, which were on my hips—and dangerously close to my ass cheeks—a fraction of a second ago, fluttering in the air as he tries to find his balance. He backs away from me. “I didn’t mean to... I wasn’t trying to... I...” His hands are crossing back and forward in front of him like he’s trying to wave off a goal.

At the same time I make a dismissive wave with my hand, he jerks his body, and my glove-covered hand brushes against his crotch.

This isn’t quite what I expected to happen at the side of the highway, and if anyone is watching us they’re going to think we’re doing some kind of fully-clothed fornication dance. I’ve known this guy for less than five minutes, and already he’s had his cock pressed against my ass. And I’ve touched his junk.

Shit. Pretty sure I’ve just gone to second base with my brothers’ friend, and now we have to endure an hour-long car ride to Waterloo together.

Well, shit. This is awkward.

Chapter 2

Scott

(Sixteen years old)

We’ve been sitting in awkward silence in my rescuer’s car for ten minutes. I don’t know her name yet—I’m working myself up to asking. But, between the fact my teeth are chattering too loudly, and the fact I had my hands, like, right there on her butt, I’m really not quite sure how to move forward.

Specifically from the part where my hands were on her ass. I’d absolutely, definitely like them to be on her ass again. And other parts of her, too.

Fuck. I’ve developed an instant and all-consuming crush on the girl wrapped in a blood-red bubble jacket with a matching red beanie hat pulled down over her ears and forehead.

The radiator is blasting heat out at our toes and into our faces. My hockey bag is in the trunk of her car, and I’ve texted my cousin to go pick up my vehicle. Maybe he can get the damn tire off, or find someone else who can.

I blow into my hands before rubbing them together, risking another sideways glance at the beautiful girl who rescued me. Now her hat is off, I can see her a little more clearly. She’s got long-flowing black hair, partially stuck to her forehead and face, red splotches on her cheeks, and a Rudolph-red nose lighting up the way to Waterloo.

I’m going to be in so much shit for being late and missing the team bus, but the silver lining is that I get to spend an hour in the car with someone too pretty for words, so I’ll suck it up and endure the laps Coach inflicts upon me.

“Eh... do you like hockey?” I’m not sure if she offered to give me a ride to the Waterloo game because neither of us could get my tire off and she was afraid I’d freeze to death at the side of the road, or if she’s actually going to the game.

She nods, humming absently as she narrowly makes it through an amber light on the cusp of turning red.

Daredevil.

I want to get her talking again. Her voice is soothing, addictive, and the accent that curls its way around her words warms my cold extremities. She seems older than me, I’m not sure by how much, I just turned sixteen last week, and she seems at least seventeen, maybe even eighteen. 

And I know for sure my friends think dating an older girl is hot. At least one of them has already had sex, too. Is my mystery driver already in college? That would be so fucking cool. 

I know girls don’t tend to date younger guys, but I like to think I have a certain level of intelligence, a charm, or maybe it’s stupidity, which makes me shoot my shit, no matter how tall the odds are stacked against me.

That’s it, I’ve made up my mind, I’m determined to ask this pretty girl out.

There’s a new Marvel movie playing at the theater, it came out last week. Black Widow. I bet my driver is a Marvel girl, and even if she isn’t, or she’s some kind of weirdo who doesn’t like Scarlett Johansson, I wouldn’t mind making out with her in the back seat instead.

“Do you play hockey?” The more I stare at her with not-so-subtle glances, the more she looks familiar, but I can’t tell if that’s because I want her to be, or if I’ve seen her somewhere before.

When she turns her face toward me, my breath catches. She’s literally taking my breath away just by looking at me. My heart gallops in my chest, and my pulse flutters wildly in my neck and wrists.

That’s it, I want to marry her. I’m going to marry her. It’s decided. She’s everything I could ask for in a wife... beautiful, knows how to change a tire... and did I mention she’s hot as fuck? Because she totally is. She’s just... wow. There are no real words to describe how pretty she is.

But when her green or brown eyes, I can’t really tell from this distance without making it weird and staring for far too long—and in no small part because I’m afraid making eye contact with her will turn me to stone—pin me with what seems to be contempt, my chest withers under her stare.

The pink and red love hearts that sprung from the side of my head in adoration now pop and shrivel like burst balloons. And my wedding plans come to a full and complete halt in my brain.

Uh oh.

She’s looking at me like I’m a complete idiot, and a faint alarm bell starts to ring at the back of my mind growing louder and louder by the second. “I leave the hockey playing to my younger brothers.” She clicks her tongue like that shouldn’t have even been a question, like that was information I should already have known, like she knows who I am.

Oh no.

Something connects in my thawing brain.

Oh noooooooooo.

I’ve been on the receiving end of that look before, or at least one very like the one this chick just threw my way. My mouth dries up, because I know the answer to the question I need to ask without even asking it.

I can live in denial for the next forty miles, pretend I haven’t made the link between the three guys I play hockey with who—now that I think about it—look very like the girl I’m sitting next to, only she has long hair, shiny red lips, and some kind of eye makeup that the guys don’t wear.

The accent, the dark hair, the flawless skin.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

In September, three guys transferred to our hockey team at Riverbend High School from some preppy out-of-state private school their parents sent them to. When I’d asked the twins who joined my class—Apollo and Artemis— why they came down to our lowly human school, they said their mom wanted them to have a public school education.

They said it had taken over a year for her to convince their dad to send them to a local school, to let them have a normal teenage experience, not some spoiled-little-rich-kid life.

They also told me that they had a sister. An older sister.

I’m pretty sure I’m sitting in a car with Athena de la Peña, legendary big sister to the recent additions to not only the hockey team, and Riverbend, but my friendship circle. Which now comes in at a pathetic total of three.

All de la Peñas.

My bride-to-be’s brothers play hockey with me. And as beautiful as she is, and as sure as I am that we’d make a perfect match, I’m not willing to get my ass handed to me by the de la Peña brothers.

“I’m Scott, by the way.”

She stares at my outstretched hand like she’s never seen someone offer a handshake before, which I know is bullshit because her dad’s a famous businessman.

She purses her lips before dropping a hand off the wheel to give mine a shake. “I know. You’ve been at my house a bit. My brothers are on the team, which is why I’m driving to Waterloo to watch them play.” She’s talking like I’m an absolute dumbass, and she can’t believe she needs to spell it out for me.

Just as she finishes shaking my hand, she offers me a blinding smile that has me back on the ropes and planning our wedding. “Athena de la Peña. The bash brothers and the hot-shot goalie are my brothers.”

My chest tightens. It’s true. It’s out there between us, and now there’s no more hiding in ignorance. I can’t try to make out with her then claim I didn’t know who she was.

I take a deep sigh, shift my weight in the chair in a bid to convince my dick to settle down, and erase any previous plans I had to marry the girl who rescued me from the side of the road.

It might be tempting to make her love me regardless, but Bro Code is crystal clear: no crushing on your friends’ siblings.

It’ll be fine. I’ll squeeze this stupid, school-boy crush back into the box it sprung from, and won’t think about Athena de la Peña as anything other than my teammate’s sister.

She’s officially friend-zoned.

No biggie.

Preorder Riding the Pine

Until next time, don't do anything I wouldn't do,

Have you joined my reader group yet? If not, then head over to: Margaritas, Men and Mischief with Lasairiona. As the name suggests, it's a place for my readers to chat about all things romance - with a healthy dose of sarcasm, sharp wit, conversations comprised entirely of GIFs, sneak peeks, giveaways and a plethora of memes. It's one of my absolute favorite places on the internet and I'm really enjoying getting to know readers that bit better over there. Don't be shy - we don't bite... much! Come on over!

Thor:

Protocol. Routine. Control.

Not anymore.

My life turned on a dime in the blink of an eye. From making pancakes for the curvy redhead I met at the club, to being the single dad of an autistic, eleven-year-old boy.

I need help.

She needs a job.

I’m usually a one-and-done kind of guy, but she draws me in, holding me hostage with her green eyes and sass.

I’m playing with fire. But maybe this time, I want to burn.

Addison:

Things I expect after a one night stand: breakfast, small talk, maybe even another O before the awkward walk of shame in last night’s clothes.

I don’t expect to open the door to his house and find a kid surrounded by all his earthly possessions.

Fired from my job, homeless, and the perpetual screw-up of my family... How can I even think about caring for someone else’s child when I’m incapable of looking after myself?

**Please note** This book contains one pseudo-MMF scene where one M acts as a mentor to another though it is not a full MMF/doing-the-deed scene.

Read Control, today!

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.

Read Freezing the Puck, today!

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.

Read Two for Interference, today!