EXCLUSIVE Excerpt #2 from The One-Timer!

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Hello !

Even while on vacation I've managed to make progress writing THE ONE TIMER and I have an exclusive excerpt to share with you today. Hope you enjoy the peek at the next Whalers hockey rom-com.❤😘

Check out the Exclusive Excerpt below! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Also, today is the last day for your FREE copy of Hot Shot Running Back! Check out the details below! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

In the meantime

You can still sign up and get November's FREE HOCKEY ROMANCE!

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This week's serving of Today's Sizzling Snippet

🔥🔥🔥 'adult audience only' 🔥🔥🔥excerpt from Bad Man on Campus

Check out the 🔥snippet below!⬇️⬇️⬇️

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At SQ's House

Did I say vacation? Yes! I mentioned last week that we were going down to D.C. to visit our son Tom and we did.

He worked hard at playing host and arranging so many things for us to do that we had to slow him down. Here we are at the Jefferson Memorial.➜➜➜➜➜➜

We drew the line at hopping on motorized bikes to get around. He uses them all the time, as do a lot of young professionals around D.C. Guess they can't afford cars because that city is very pricey. Tom doesn't have a car because he lives in a great (expensive) location and luckily walks/bikes most places or Ubers.

You guessed it--we took lots of Ubers.

In the meantime, My voice still insists on mimicking that of an old man with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. I can't wait to hear what the Ear, Nose and Throat specialist says about my voice box in a couple of weeks.

Today, H and I are in Hershey, PA, the motherland of chocolate lovers such as myself. I'll share the deets with you next week.

My diet, you ask? Down the toilet. Tom showed us his favorite restaurants and they were all fabulous! My favorite was the Peruvian place though I never knew Peruvian food was a thing. Go figure. That's the fun of eating out in a cosmopolitan city like D.C.

I haven't stepped on a scale, but I'm not looking forward to it. On the up side, we've been logging serious mileage walking around playing tourist. That counts for something, right?

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My favorite review of the week!

The Do-Over Girl - a hockey rom-com

"I love sport stories and this one was so good! Sara and Quinn story was so real and heartfelt that I couldn’t put it down! Don’t miss this story, you will love it."

--Bonnie, Amazon reviewer

I truly appreciate everyone who takes the time to leave reviews.💜

Get The Do-Over Girl Here!

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Exclusive Excerpt #2: THE ONE TIMER

Chase

Coach Nash motions to Sabien to replace me in the media hot spot. I move aside, bumping his shoulder on my way past him. A solid gut roll signals my excitement as I slip past the press and others. Circling around, I move to the wall where my mystery woman stands. Sliding against the wall, I move closer until I stand within a foot of her, then lean casually, watching her unaware of me, while my heart raps against my chest wall, fast and loud. 

Shit. Calm down. I take a deep silent breath to get my cool back. She’s thumbing her phone and glances up to where Coach Nash and Sabien are talking to the press. When she realizes I’m not standing there with Coach, she frowns, then her face falls, and she heaves a disappointed sigh. She thinks I bailed on her. Shit.

“I’m right here,” I say, keeping my voice low. Am I a dick for enjoying her obvious disappointment that she might have missed me? 

She jumps and turns to me, dropping her phone. “Oh shit. I mean, hello.” She bends to pick up the phone, but I beat her to it, holding her arm as we both stand.

I hand her the phone. “Sorry for surprising you.” I’m not sorry at all, not the way she looks at me as if I’m the second coming of Bobby Orr, or maybe the new Brad Pitt. I’m more than juiced that she wants to meet me as much as I want to meet her.

 “I’m Chase Whittier.”

She smiles like I’m a circus clown and I wonder who her dentist is because her teeth look more like pearls. She’s too young to have fake teeth, right? I shake my head.

“ And you are?”

Her smile disappears faster than a tray of steaks at a hockey barbeque. But I wait her out, watching the crazy workings of her mind play out on her face. Worry, hope, longing, more worry.

I finally say, “Look--”

At the same time, she blurts out, “Emery.” Then stops. 

I wait for more. We stare at each other. I’m staring like I’m in a deep hypnotic state, rendered mute by her gorgeous face. I’ve never seen skin so smooth and perfect, eyes so expressive, the color of molten gold and she… looks worried. Like she’s holding her breath waiting for me to slap the cuffs on her for some kind of crime.

My mind latches onto the cuffs—and then I drag myself back to reality. There will be no handcuffs. Since when am I into BDSM anyway? Fuck. Maybe it’s the overwhelming sensuality of this woman leading my mind—and other body parts—all kinds of places.

“Who are you?” I murmur the words as they surface to the top of the trashy heap that comprises my filthy thoughts. They’re the only words that can be said aloud and not get me slapped.

She replies in a rush, like she’s been waiting to tell me and can’t hold back. “I’m a banker. I mean, I work in a bank and my boss had these tickets he wasn’t using and so, because it’s my birthday, I took them and it was last minute so my best friend couldn’t come with me but she got me this shirt to wear because she’s a wildly generous and thoughtful friend and here I am.” She heaves a breath and I watch her breasts rise and fall, straining the birthday t-shirt to within a thread of its capacity. Then I realize she’s wearing my fucking number.

Shit. I have trouble tearing my eyes away from number eighteen spread across her chest, taunting me until I want to take an actual fucking bite out of—

“Are you alright?” 

I snap my eyes to her face. The concern in her expression transforms her from gorgeous to… something more. Whatever the hell that is. My heart goes into what has to be unhealthy palpitations as if I’m looking at a fucking vision. As if I should be afraid.

Maybe I am afraid. Or, correction, everything except my dick is afraid.

“Um. Happy birthday. I didn’t mean to stare. Sorry.”

She smiles, a soft gracious, forgiving smile so generous I want to fall to her feet here and now. Fuck. Now I’m really and truly afraid. Pull yourself together, man. She’s just an ordinary beautiful young woman.

I almost laugh out loud at my ridiculous thought. Because I know beyond reasoning or conscious thought, that there’s nothing ordinary about Emery, or her beauty.

“I’m the one who should apologize—”

“You’re the birthday girl. No apologies. In fact, I should be buying you dinner and drinks.”

She laughs. “You’re kinder than—I mean, of course you shouldn’t feel obligated—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer—unless you don’t…” Shit. What the hell is wrong with me? I catch Sabien out of the corner of my eye and wish to hell he was a legit wing man. If he were, I’d be motioning him to haul his ass over here in a blink.

But Sabien Dumas is no kind of wing man—unless you want a wing man who’s more apt to flirt away whatever girl you’re into.

“I would love to. It’s just that I’m…” She looks down as if there’s something wrong with her and for the life of me I don’t get what she’s seeing because what I see is flawless. Right down to the scuffed canvas sneakers.

“You’re perfect,” I say before sanity can save me from whatever mind-blowing illness has taken me over. A vision of cupid with a nasty grin and a smoking bow and arrow flashes to mind. Fuck. I wish I could blame my response to her on a bang to my head, but I managed to escape the game without anything more than the usual minor scrapes and bruises.

My shin throbs to life telling me the puck that hit me there may have been a shade past the usual, but it’s not like I’m limping. Or I’d better not limp. That’s the last look I want tonight.

“How about if we go to—”

“And who do we have here?” Sabien Dumars says over my shoulder as he comes to a stop on my right wing. His eyes are on my mystery girl and glinting in a way that forces me to shove my elbow in his gut in a subtle move that would escape even the sharpest referee if we were on the ice.

“This is Emery and we were about to leave.”

“Hello Emery. I’m Sabien Dumars.”

She shines her big eyes on him and I resist the temptation to shove my best friend out of her field of vision. I take her elbow instead, grabbing her attention and all the sparkle from her eyes.

“Nice to meet you Sabien,” she says over her shoulder as I walk her away from his flirtatious intentions.

He laughs and gives me a salute, acknowledging my possession, at least temporarily, of Emery’s attention. My mission for the night looms up loud and clear because suddenly it’s become the most important thing in the world to make my promise real, for this birthday to be the most special and memorable she’s ever had.

“You never said where you were taking me,” she says as we slip past the lingering crowd of media, friends and fans toward the exit at the end of the hallway. The corridor suddenly seems longer than I remember, endless.

“I’m taking you to a place to make your birthday special. The kind of place you’ll remember. A place people go to have their photos taken for posterity and to dine like royalty.”

“I don’t know if I’m dressed for a place like that.” Her laugh is uneasy.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Emery. Who would turn away a beautiful woman like you?”

She blushes. And fuck, my dick comes to life. Because when was the last time I met a gorgeous woman who didn’t know very well how hot she was and own it like a crown? We reach the door and I slide my hand to the small of her back as I push it open. The slope where her back meets the swell of her rear taunts my fingers with its perfection.

“You’re so sweet. But we both know it’s you they wouldn’t turn away.” She looks up at me with frank admiration, the kind of authentic emotion that can’t be mistaken for politeness or good manners or lip service. The kind that slams me in the gut with a power I don’t remember feeling from any woman I’ve ever met. Shit. 

Fear burns through my pleasure like Cupid has turned into the devil. What the hell is this? I can’t be this into her after fifteen minutes. But my hammering heart and the sweat breaking out on my brow say otherwise.

Fuck.

Time to shift gears. Emery isn’t the kind of woman I can have a casual fling with because there’s nothing casual about whatever the heck is going on here. Nothing like I’ve ever felt before. Not even with my high school sweetheart.

Then a one-timer it is. Because even though she’s the kind of woman I need to stay far away from, the kind of woman who would own me if I allowed her any space, I’m not crazy enough to forfeit this one night with her.

If she’ll go for it...

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HOT SHOT RUNNING BACK

FREE! Today is the LAST DAY!

George

I thought I was a hot shit on campus—until I met Jack Hunter.

He was a demi-god, a black hole on campus sucking up every girl in his orbit.

I may as well be invisible when I stand next to him.

In spite of that, he's my best friend and I spend four years making do with his leftovers, consoling girl after girl once he's rejected them. It was a tough job, but I didn't mind doing it. Rich sarcasm here.

But I truly didn't mind—until it came to Izzy. 

She's my achilles heel, the one girl I never let out of my sights no matter if she sees me or not, but she got sucked into Jack's orbit until she was dizzy and he doesn't let go of her easily.

Worse, she doesn't want to let go of him. She clings to his ghost even when it's clear he's with Joni.

I try to console her, but she allows me to be no more than a friend.

I want to be okay with that. I don't want to hate my best friend. I don't want to see Izzy's broken heart heal.

And I abso-fucking-lutely do want to be a helluva lot more than a friend to her.

I need Izzy to choose me over Jack.

But how can I ever be sure I'm nothing more than leftovers to her?

Hot Shot Running Back is set in the Big Men on Campus world and can be read as a stand-alone. George & Izzy's story is a steamy college/new adult football romance where the hot friend finally wins the girl in a sizzling happy ever after ending.

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WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT!

🔥🔥Today's Sizzling Snippet 🔥🔥

from Bad Man on Campus

Glory

He watches me, that smile of his in place, the sadness gone from his eyes replaced by raw lusty need. My pulse jumps to the next level and my center tingles like crazy, so I press down, grinding into his hard on.

“You’re gonna kill me, sunshine, but what a glorious death it’ll be.” His voice is low and rumbly, the way I remember--his aroused voice. But I don’t remember ever being this excited by his mere voice though I sure as hell am now.

Smiling, I lift myself, moving back as my hands trace the trail of hair to that magical vee that disappears into his shorts. Then I slip my hands under his waistband and grab onto his hard smooth cock and close my eyes with the ecstatic pleasure of the seething hot satin-over-steel feel of him in my palm.

“Jesus . . .” He squeezes my thighs in return.

As I pull his shorts down, he lifts his hips and I move aside to tug them all the way down his legs with his boxers and toss them on the floor. Kneeling up on the bed, I move between his legs and take him in.

“You are an eyeful, Kace Jennings. Can I take a picture? I bet I could sell it for really good money.” My grin is wide. It’s an old threat that I’ve never made good on, never mean to. He reaches up and pulls me down to him and I collapse against the warm, smooth, solid muscle of his chest.

“What kind of picture? A pinup? Like a Derek Sanderson glamour shot? Like a big bad Wildbeast—naked?”

I laugh and complain with a light smack to his shoulder, “Not another NHL factoid—a Boston Bruins old-school factoid, no less.” 

“But you know, don’t you? You know who Derek Sanderson is because you’ve been paying attention to my history lessons.”

“Is that what you call it?” I lean in close. “I know good old Sandy Sanderson was the playboy of the team. You’re not telling me you’re the playboy of the Wildbeasts, are you?”

“My playboy days are over.” His smile is mischievous and I give him my mock indignation, excitement stirring me, so that the room could be on fire, the whole world ablaze, and I wouldn’t know because all I know right now is him, the feel of him under me, hard and solid and mouthwatering. 

“As if,” I say, not knowing if it’s true that he’s been a playboy for the last three years, and in this minute in his arms, with my body covering his so perfectly, I don’t care, couldn’t possibly give a shit less. I sit up and graze my way down his body with my eyes until I reach his bold stiff cock, upright and waving at me. I’m sitting almost on top of him and if I squirm a little—but not yet.

“How about a taste?” I say, needing it. His eyes go glassy and his pupils dilate as I skim my hands down his body over the taut muscles and the smooth skin to the small dark trail of hair below his navel.

“I’m all yours, Glory Sunshine Rose.” He pulls my face to his for a kiss, matching his lips against mine so that the seams line up. He runs his tongue along mine and I feel the skitter of nerves all the way through my body down to the center of my thighs.

Pulling away from his kiss is hard, but I'm anticipating more and I'm impatient. “As much as I love your kisses, I need more from you, baby.” I stare into his eyes because I love to see the effect of my words on him. His responsiveness is legendary. I move my body down his, leaving a trail of kisses, feeling his muscles tighten and twitch as I go, as I play my hands along his skin, raising goose bumps.

“You’re unbelievably sexy, Glory. I don’t know how I’ve existed all this time without you.” He rasps the words, sending tiny vibrations skittering along my nerve endings. But I don’t stop to answer him. Flicking a glance up at him, I see his lids are half closed and his expression on edge. His breathing is shallow and I haven’t even taken him into my mouth. But my hands slip down to cup his balls and tighten on the base of his shaft. A low moan escapes his throat and he puts his hands on my shoulders, the tremor of anticipation sending a shot of lust through me.

Without another breath of encouragement, I lower my mouth onto his tip, kissing the smooth, glossy skin, oozing with...

Read the rest now...

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Coming in 2024!

Two Pucks: Portsmouth Whalers series

a fake relationship billionaire accidental pregnancy hockey rom-com

Sabien

What does a billionaire hockey player and a clueless dog walker have in common?

Besides my dog, we both enjoyed spending one hot night burning up the sheets.

And we both need something desperately enough to strike a deal.

Possibly the stupidest deal ever imagined according to my lawyer.

But once it's done, we're in bed together--literally--for the duration of the season.

The one rule is that we agree to part ways cleanly at the end of the contract. My lawyer insists.

No contact allowed.

No matter what...

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Coming in 2024

Tricky Puck - a fake fiancee hockey rom-com

I'd never heard of a real life matchmaker before, but grandma insists on introducing me to one and makes sure it's really real when she tells me I'm her matchmaker's new client...

Normally, I'd do anything for grandma, but this is a big ask.

I'm not ready to settle down. Not even close. I'm only twenty-six and a rising star in the NHL - otherwise known as a chick-magnet.

After all the hard work and focus I've put in to get to this point, I've barely begun to have fun. No way am I going along with the matchmaking plan.

Sure.

Fast forward when my attitude changes real fast after grandma informs me her clock is ticking and her time's almost up.

And her dying wish is to see me settled down with a nice young woman.

Shit.

She goes on about babies, but my mind is spinning with the knowledge that I have no choice. I need to go along with this matchmaking deal for grandma.

Unless I can come up with a way to give her the comfort she wants, the illusion that I'm settled down--without actually settling down...

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Hope you're enjoying the full fall experience--especially football--or romance books--or both. What's your favorite fun fall thing?

I'd love to know what you think of the excerpt from The One Timer. Drop me a line and let me know! 💜

Warmest Regards,