The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(101)

A voice crackled over the loudspeakers. “Attention all flyers, Canada West, flight 335 to Vancouver has been delayed. Your new departure time is 12:50 PM. We apologize for this inconvenience.”

I refrained from groaning. I hated flying.

“Another one, sweetheart?”

“Yes please, make it another double.”

“Sure thing.”

The hot guy sat at the bar, a few seats away from me. Out of my peripheral, I noted that he checked his watch when the announcement sounded. Then, he motioned for the bartender to bring him a drink.

During my four years in New York, I preferred to date artists. Most of my ex-boyfriends were brilliant painters with sweet souls. What they lacked in physique they more than made up with their intellect and sensitivity. This guy appeared to be the typical guy who avoided talking about his feelings, preferring to watch sports and drink with his buddies.

He was also built to fuck.

The thought rushed through my brain like a bad buzz. I sat frozen, my drink halfway to my lips. Where had that thought come from? I studied him with discretion. The sports television above the bar held his undivided attention.

The Baby Men, as my father had coined my boyfriends, had one major flaw. They all sucked in the sack. Maybe it was their lanky, thin frames or the fact they were more cerebral than physical, but my sex life, to date, had been lackluster.

Hot guy had massive shoulders, and an athletic body. To be honest, his power scared me. Like a dark angel who could crush a woman’s heart without even trying. He’d take charge in and out of the bedroom.

I learned early in life that I don’t want to give anyone power or control over me. My entire life I suffered in a power struggle with my dad. Why would I date someone who wanted to dominate? This guy was pure alpha male. An exciting prospect in the sack, but the rest of your life promised to be a living hell.

A voice crackled over the loudspeakers. “Attention, please. This is the first boarding call for Canada West, flight 335 to Vancouver. Departing passengers should proceed to gate number 23 immediately.”

I downed my drink so that I felt buzzed enough to manage take off. I headed to the washroom. My long black hair hung straight down to my waist. I could nothing about my bleary blue eyes, but I touched up my lip gloss and squared my shoulders.

Fake it, till you make it.

I walked to the boarding area and sat down on one of the hard, blue seats. Despite the alcohol coursing through my veins, I felt panicky.

I can do this!

The boarding line diminished until only the airline staff remained at the gate. I could not seem to get off my chair. My churning gut told me not to get on that flight.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Canada West, flight 335 to Vancouver is closing its doors in one minute. Ticketed passengers must board immediately. I repeat, this is the final boarding call for Canada West, flight 335 to Vancouver.”

Did it matter if I took a later flight? My parents wouldn’t care. They were at a function tonight. I could get a hotel, or even better, return to NYC.

Above me, the overhead speaker crackled. “Rory Ashford, please report to gate 23 immediately. Rory Ashford. Please report to gate 23.”

With heavy, reluctant limbs, I walked up to the gate. The attendant glared at me as she took my passport and my boarding pass.

“Didn’t you hear the announcement?”

I tried to speak, but no words came out.

She snapped my papers back at me. “Have a nice flight.”

Puck Me Secretly, is now available on Amazon and KU.





Excerpt from: Home Game





A Vancouver Wolves Hockey Romance





Chapter One: Ryan


“Shit,” I said under my breath, looking in dismay at the screen of my laptop. I was in a cafe trying to get my receipts submitted to Frank, my accountant, who had threatened to disown me if I didn’t get him an accurate account of my expenses. I had been doing good but now the screen I had been working on had disappeared and there was nothing. I leaned back in my seat and rubbed my face with frustration. Wasn’t the point of having an accountant was so he could do all this shit?

“You accidentally minimized your screen. That’s all,” a soft voice spoke from my left.

I looked beside me. A tiny punk rocker chick was looking at my screen. Messy black short hair tucked behind her ear that was lined with multiple piercings. She had a tiny silver ring on the side of her petite nose. The biggest blue eyes, lined with heavy black make-up avoided my gaze.

“You know how to get it back?” I asked. She didn’t look like she knew her way around a computer, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

She leaned across me, punched a couple keys and my program was back.

I stared at the screen in amazement and then looked back at her. “Thanks.”

Her head was already bent over a beat-up paperback. Her thin, plaid-covered shoulders gave a slight shrug but other than that, she didn’t acknowledge me.

I took a deep breath. Only in Vancouver. People in this city all seemed to walk to the beat of their own drummer. Here, it seemed like anything went when it came to personal style. I started to work again.

God, I hated working on the computer. This was my fault. Krista, my agent, had been bugging me for months to hire a PA but my life had been stupidly busy. First, it had been playoffs. Then when the season ended, they had drafted me to the NHL Vancouver Wolves. It had felt like chaos packing up my life, saying goodbye to my old team and finding a new place to live. I got the keys to my apartment and my boxes the same day I needed to show up for my first practice with my new team. Between off season conditioning and training, trying to get to know my new teammates, and sorting out everything from HR paperwork to changing my bank accounts, there had been no time for anything but what was necessary.