I'm all wrapped up in bittersweet feelings as I share the final cover for the last book in the Venom series. I've loved writing these books and have grown to feel as if every woman on the team is a dear friend. I hope my M/F readers feel the same. This last Venom book is probably my favorite as Helen has grown on me throughout the series. I was so happy to be able to give her a love as pure and honest as Bobby Fovea. She deserved it.
You can preorder Blue Line now to ensure Helen and Bobby are awaiting you on 3/14.
#MF #Hockey #Romance
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Blurb:
If there’s one thing that Helen Parat knows, it’s how
to defend. Whether it’s her goalie or her bruised heart, the Venom’s top D-man
isn’t about to let anyone get too close. While it’s an admirable thing on the
ice, it’s left her alone for far too long in her personal life. Better lonely
than taunted, the stately beauty decided years ago. That philosophy has served
Helen well – until Bobby Fovea entered her defensive zone.
The energetic and handsome Wildcats captain is winning Helen over, one honest
and loving smile at a time. Just when she thinks she’s blocked him out, Bobby
finds a new way to work his way into her heart. As Helen and the Venom make
their push for the championship, it’s going to take every ounce of dedication,
grit, and passion she has to seize not only the cup but the happiness she’s
denied herself for far too long.
Excerpt:
“Okay, so
next week when we have a day off between games, we’ll meet up here and go to
the Mennonite store to get fabric. I’m so excited!” Alicia bounced around her
spacious kitchen as we cleaned up the patterns, coffee mugs, and a sticky honeypot Wren had been sticking her fingers
into.
“I got a
pink lily dress.” Wren informed us then
took off in pursuit of a kitten that had wandered into the house from the goat
barn.
“She
insisted on pink.” Alicia told me when I
joined her at the sink to dry the mugs she was washing by hand.
“She’ll
look precious. And what about you? What’s your bridal gown like?”
She sighed
a bit, as if in a dream, and then shook her head, her soft golden hair framing
her face.
“We try
not to boast about material things but, oh, Helen, it’s going to be so
beautiful!”
I smiled
at her. “He’s a lucky man.”
“We’re
both lucky. The goddess has blessed us both in so many ways. And she’ll bless
you too.” With that, she reached over to
pluck the damp dishcloth from my hand.
The others had filed out to explore the farm. “Why don’t you go outside and
talk to Bobby for a bit.”
I crinkled
my nose.
“He’s got
a good soul, Helen. Even Dale and Sage have commented on that. Sincerity glows
within him. What harm can come from being
nice to him?”
A chicken
began to cackle outside, which made the geese start honking. She had no idea.
Alicia had probably never been laughed at by a drunken frat boy when he took
off her shirt.
“Right,
nothing. I’m off to talk to Bobby.” I left her standing at the sink with soapy
hands and a wistful expression. Might as well just get this over with and talk
to the man. When things went south then they’d all stop nudging me, and I could
go back to my perfectly nice life.
The back
of the farm faced the pastures. Along one fence were some beehives. I spotted
my teammates over at the farm pond, seated along the bank, soaking their feet
in the water by the looks. That looked like fun. But no. I had to go make small
talk with Bobby. Pfft.
Following
the fence, I came to the barn. There were no goats to be seen. One large gate
had been removed from a massive post driven into the fertile ground. I slipped
into the opening, stepped over the gate lying on the ground, and peeked into
the barn. Nothing in there but mangers
filled with hay and dust motes floating in slim streams of the summer sun.
“Hey!”
I spun
around and there he stood. Smiling, as always, with his bare shoulders exposed
to the sun. They were lightly freckled. Slick with sweat. I forbid my eyes to
drop to his bare chest. Eye to eye contact only.
“Hi. I
uh…” I waved a hand at the gate by my feet. “Came inside. Is that okay?”
“Sure,
yeah. We’re around back working on a small pen that they use for the kids when
they’re little.” He motioned me to the eastern side of the barn. I gave him an
awkward smile then went around the old
clapboard barn. Sage was sitting under a tree with his legs in a lotus, sipping
cold tea. He lifted a hand in greeting and I did the same. A gusty wind whipped
past, tugging on Sage’s long gray hair.
I had no
idea what to say to the man. I kept my eyes on the ground. Bobby stepped around
me, leaned his shoulder on the side of the barn and started talking. I slipped
my hands into my pockets and bobbed my head as he chatted about fence staples,
apple trees in the orchard, and how beautiful my eyes were. Wait. What?
“What?” I
asked when the compliment sank in.
He cocked
his head a bit to the left, his big shoulder dropped a little, and he gently
reached out to touch the side of my face with his hand. His finger was rough,
calloused, and gentle. That thick shank of soft red hair fell over his brow.
“You have
beautiful eyes. So green, like the mountains. And skin white like homemade
vanilla ice cream.”
“I’ll be
thirty-four in August.”
“You want
a party?”
“I – you –
what? No. I’m not asking for a party. I’m telling you that because you stroking
my face is stupid.” A bee flew by and landed on the side of the barn. Bobby was
too busy trying to make up silly things to compare my eyes and skin to to take notice of a bug.
“You say
that a lot. About me liking you or thinking that you’re pretty. Why do you
think that?” He never moved closer, if anything he swayed back some. Perhaps he
was worried that I’d bolt which was preposterous. Helen Parat was solid like a
wall. Built like one too…
“Why do I
think it’s stupid for you to have these romantic notions?”
“Yeah.”
A rivulet
of sweat ran down the side of his face, through the bristles of his new beard,
and down the side of his thick neck. Then the stupid thing slithered down his
pectoral, leading my gaze down to a dark pink nipple surrounded by a few dark red hairs. Where would that sweat
droplet go next? Downward over his hard stomach? Maybe. Hopefully. I was happy
to wait here by the barn with the bee and see where it went. I had time. All
day. And his stomach was quite nice with all those rippled muscles and a
treasure trail of dusky red hair that—
“Helen,
are you checking me out?” I heard the humor in his voice. My eyes leaped from
that sinful trail to his twinkling brown eyes.
“I like
coffee with muffins.” Oh, Helen, what
kind of moronic statement was that? Dear God, woman. “I mean…your sister
thinks that – I need coffee. Not muffins. Unless you want muffins then we could
do muffins but they’re empty calories.”
“So, you were checking me out.” Well wasn’t he
suddenly filled with masculine self-satisfaction? “I like coffee with muffins
too.”
When I
said nothing due to my brain literally drowning in estrogen, he flashed a smile
filled with white teeth. His gaze locked with mine, a sultry hum of sexual
attraction riding the wind like the sweet scent of bread baking in Grandma’s
kitchen. He placed a hand on the side of the barn and locked his elbow.
“Blueberry
are good.” I finally manage to reply.
“Yeah,
they are good.” If he kissed me now I would…kiss him back. Slap him. Kiss him back. Slap him. No, kissing is
nicer than slapping. Maybe a dirty look? No, dummy, no dirty looks. Just kiss
him. But…kiss him back. Sigh. Fine. Kiss him back wins. I would. I’d regret
it afterward but not during.
