LATEST NEWS & UPDATE:

Happy new book day, y'all!

I'm here. Kinda sorta.

I survived the British Book Bash last weekend (thanks to everyone who came out to see me, it was a delight!) and today is my Dad's birthday, he would have been 75 years old.

I find days like today conflicted and difficult, but I do know he'd be proud of me and where my author career has gone in the past nearly five years since his passing.

Anyway, if you have a good relationship with them, hug your fathers, friends. And when you're done, I have a quick read hot off the presses for you...

Chapter 3

Justin

 (Six days to Christmas)

My wife is going to kill me.

I might have undersold my sister Sophia’s birthday party to her. I told her it was a llamazing party, two hours hanging with real life llamas. Which sounds super cool, right?

Right.

Who doesn’t want to hang out with llamazing llamas?

Except, what I didn’t tell her, was that it was going to be outside, in the cold, on a fucking farm.

In December.

In fairness, Mom didn’t tell me much about it either. Namaste Farm is less than a thirty minute drive from Cedar Rapids. When we arrived, there was a meet and greet with all the animals. Sophia took in every detail of the one-oh-one class where she learned aaaall about llamas; how to handle them and what they’re used for. She was so freakin’ excited.

Mom decorated the party space with a million twinkly lights and even brought a little pre-lit Christmas tree. The vibe is lit. Literally. The llamas all have cute little Santa hats, the bite in the air is cold enough for mittens and hats, but not too cold that I’m afraid my dick is gonna freeze and fall off.

My poor wife is three hundred and thirty eight weeks pregnant. Okay, fine, she’s thirty eight weeks along, and she’s the size of a fucking house. I’d never say that to her, though, because I value my life. And if anyone could get away with murder, or make it so no one ever even notices I’m gone... it’s my pregnant wife.

We’re having one single baby, but if one more person makes a crack at her about having more than one passenger in there, someone’s going to die. And from how she’s glaring at me across the farmyard right now, it’s going to be me.

“You get your book boo boo sorted?” Mom nudges my elbow.

If only the catastrophic event that tanked my upcoming release on the biggest book retailer on the planet was just a little boo boo. Shaking my head, I take a sip of hot chocolate from a paper cup. Bitches Brew brought a little pop up coffee shop. I guess when a former Raccoon gets it on with the owner of our favorite coffee shop, we get special treatment.

That’s not fair. Taryn is pretty freakin’ cool, she’d also give the shirt off her back to anyone who might need it. In this case, however, the hot chocolate station was a gift from the de la Peña brothers for Sophia’s birthday. Now Sophia wants the hot chocolate cart to go home with her when the party finishes.

That’s actually not a bad idea. That hot chocolate station is the only thing keeping me alive right now. Savannah is on her fourth cup of fully loaded hot cocoa. She has a sliver of whipped cream on the tip of her nose, and she’s got a melted marshmallow sandwiched between her index finger and thumb.

No judgment.

Whatever my darling wife wants, she gets. If she wants to mainline whipped cream straight from the can down her throat, I’ll push the damn button.

If she wants another four cups of molten chocolate, she’ll get them.

I offered her my coat, but she shirked it off. Her stubborn streak is a mile wide, and not even delicious hot chocolate by the gallon will soften it for me. She’s pissed. I bet her calves are sore, her feet ache, probably her back, too, and I know she’s cold from the rosiness in her cheeks and on the tip of her nose.

She puts down her palms on her lower back and stretches. Oh, man. Her center of gravity is all out of whack, and her lower back hurts. I was right.

Fuck. If she leans back much further, she’s going down.

Are llamas murderous creatures? Maybe one of them could kill me so Savannah won’t have to.

Not only are we on a farm in the cold, but there was also a trek, like, kind of a hike as part of the party. Sure, it was a short trek through the trees on the farm where we all got to take llamas for a walk. But neither that, nor meeting their flock of sheep, made her smile. Fake smile, sure, but there wasn’t a trace of warmth in her face. Guess that’s what happens when you freeze your pregnant wife by making her take a hike with farm animals.

If nothing else, I guess at least they’re friendly?

None of this was helped by the fact Howard, the naughty farm goat, chewed on the edge of her brand new scarf leaving a hole in the fabric. Now that I think on it, Savannah is going to use the scarf to kill me. This is it, this is how I die. On a farm outside Cedar Rapids, a few days before Christmas, and the little shit Howard will be her accomplice, he’ll make my body disappear.

It’s the nativity story no one knew they needed.

“Justin?”

“Mmm?” Fuck. I forgot Mom was standing next to me.

“Did you fix your release snafu?”

“No, Mom. I lost all my preorders. I’m going to have to go with a live release.”

Her face is blank. She doesn’t understand the indie author world, even though she tries.

“It’ll be okay. Eventually. I just need to hope my social media team shares it far and wide so it gets the attention it deserves, and we can raise money for a worthwhile charity.”

“You’re raising money for MORE for Caregivers, aren’t you?”

It warms my heart that even though she doesn’t understand, she’s invested, cares, and remembers.

“I am. Such a worthwhile charity who could use every penny they can get.” I take another drink. “And Artemis is matching me buck for buck raised.”

“How those boys are so kind and generous, considering their asshole father, is anyone’s guess.”

My jaw drops open. “Mom.”

She doesn’t mind cussing, but she doesn’t generally speak ill of anyone else.

She shrugs, sipping her own hot chocolate. “They’re good boys. That’s all I’m saying.”

It’s not all she’s saying, but it’s all she’s willing to talk about here and now. The conversation is closed. There’s only so much she’ll trash talk a person without them being present to defend themselves.

“You know even if you made nothing, Artemis would still donate to the charity, right?”

Her desire to shoulder my burden, to reduce my responsibility, and to make things seem not as messed up as they are, is admirable. But the biggest sales platform on the face of the earth cancelling my thousands of preorders right before launch is sickening. Thousands. It was my biggest launch to date. I’d put months and months of marketing and advertising into making this book soar, and now, well, now it’s probably going to sink.

“Thanks, Mom. I know.” I pat her hand as she gives me a side hug.

“You should get that woman of yours home, Justin. She looks kind of murderous. And freezing.” She shivers. “I don’t blame her, it’s cold out here.”

“I’m staying until the party’s over, and I can help you tear down these decorations. We need to leave it the same way we found it. That’s going to take all hands.”

She laughs. “If you don’t leave soon, Savannah might tear your hands from your body. Then you won’t be of any use to anyone during clean up. You’d be too busy bleeding out.” She’s not wrong. “Or worse, she’ll give birth right here on the farm.”

I can’t help but laugh. “There’s stables over there, wonder if they have a manger.”

Mom laughs. “I don’t recall llamas being at the nativity, Justin.” She looks around. “And I don’t count three wise men here either.”

I shake my head. “True. They have a goat here, though. He could fake it as a sheep no problem. And we could dress the llamas up as cows. I’m sure they’d be fine with dressing in animal drag for the sake of a nativity reboot.”

She throws me an eye roll. “And our gifts aren’t gold, frankincense, and myrrh. I think if we’d given your sister Frankincense she’d have thrown it at us.”

I find my gorgeous wife in the small crowd and take her in. Even four thousand months pregnant she’s a glorious goddess. I’m getting a semi just staring at her. “And definitely no Immaculate Conception.”

“Ew. Justin. I don’t need to think about my son’s sex life thank you very much.”

She gives me a quick hug. “Go rescue your wife before we have to put your face on milk cartons.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I finally find my balls, steel myself, and cross the farmyard. I slip an arm around her waist, pulling her to me so I can kiss her cheek while rubbing her round belly with my free hand. “Let’s get you home.”

“But the party isn’t over.” Her teeth are chattering but I can still hear the sarcasm in her words.

“Just come home. I’ll rub your feet, Toots.”

She folds her arms. “It’s not enough.”

“I’ll do that thing you like me doing with my tongue.”

She arches an eye brow. “You’ll do that anyway.”

Taking her hand, I lead her toward the car. “You’re right, I will. But if you freeze to death, I can’t do anything to you. And if you kill me, you’ll have even less chance of that happening.”

She doesn’t fight me as I tuck her into the car, help her buckle her seatbelt, and turn on the heated seats so she has a warm booty on the way back to the house.

When we pull into the driveway, she unbuckles, gets out of the car, and waits for me at the front door, hand outstretched. “Alright, hot shot, come fuck me.”

Please note: tnovella will NOT be available in Kindle Unlimited so preorder Snowflakes and Slapshots now so you don't miss out!

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!

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!