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Seduced by the Game--Hockey Anthology to Benefit Cancer

It’s almost here! Seduced by the Game 2014 will release sometime in mid-to-late April, 2014.

I am thrilled to be a part of this wonderful collection of original hockey romances, penned by several bestselling sports romance authors. You`ll not only be getting eight novellas for the price of one book, but every penny made on the sales from this book for a year go right to Hockey Fights Cancer.

This is planned to be an annual event, with all proceeds going to the charity. All of the authors involved donated our novellas for the anthology, but it didn`t stop there. Cover art, logo design, proofreading, editing, marketing support: it has all been donated. What a great team effort for a truly worthwhile cause!

I’ll keep you updated as the news becomes available, but for now, here’s a teaser from my contribution titled Crashing the Boards, part of my new Seattle Sockeyes hockey series.

BLURB:

Can a party crasher melt the icy heart of a reluctant party guest or will she crash and burn along with her fledgling business?

Professional party crasher, Izzy Maxwell, has been hired to ensure the Seattle Sockeyes team party is a rousing success, while team captain Cooper Black is determined that it will be anything but. Armed with killer heels, a provocative dress, and loads of confidence, Izzy is determined to win over the ruggedly handsome hockey player and save the party and her business.

Seattle Sockeyes team captain Cooper Black can’t get beyond his anger over the new owners moving his team to Seattle, the one place on earth he swore he’d never live. Izzy hijacks Cooper, posing as his girlfriend, and his best buddy plays along despite Cooper’s protests, but Izzy’s persuasive talents, their undeniable chemistry, and a couple of intimate liaisons destroy Cooper’s resistance.

But when Cooper finds out Izzy had been hired to crash the party, and he’s been played a fool, the beginning of something special ends before it starts. Can Izzy convince Cooper to take another chance on her or will they both crash into the boards?

* * * *

EXCERPT:

Party crashing was an art—if done right.

Isabella Maxwell should know. She’d been crashing parties for years, at first to get a decent meal and later—much later—as a part-time profession with her three younger sisters. She’d never crashed a party she didn’t take from dud to memorable in minutes.

Tonight she might have met her match.

She’d done her research and knew the obstacles and challenges, but nothing prepared her for the scene awaiting her on the party deck of the Washington Queen, a local tour boat rented by the Seattle Sockeyes hockey team for an evening dinner cruise around Elliott Bay.

As security checked invitations at the door, Izzy snuck past them and peeked in the doorway, scoping out the scene inside—DJ in the corner, empty dance floor complete with mirror ball and flashing lights, not a dancer anywhere. Hockey players were slouched in chairs clumped around tables, reminding her of pimply faced preteens at a junior high dance. Only these boys weren’t preteens or pimply faced. They were a formidable wall of broad chests, bulging thighs, and determined expressions. Each one mirroring the other, but she’d done her research. There was one man she needed to win over to salvage this party, and he hadn’t arrived yet.

Her sisters had already boarded the boat, managing to sneak past security, every one of them dressed to kill or at least to charm a professional hockey team, Bethany in her plunging Vera Wang gown and deadly high heels. Emma and Avery, the youngest at twenty-one and identical twins, looked every bit like giddy hockey groupies who’d managed to snag an invite to the party. Standing near the buffet table, they giggled and whispered as they stole glances at the players. Several players stared right back. Nearby, Bethany engaged the team play-by-play announcer in conversation, while he stared at her boobs, but men always stared at Bethany’s boobs.

The stage was set.

Time to get this party started. The Sockeyes were going to have the time of their lives if she had to threaten bodily harm with their own hockey sticks. 

“Ma’am, I need to see your invitation.” A security guard with a receding hairline, the waist of his polyester pants pulled up to his armpits, and a determined set to his skinny jaw, stepped in front of her before she could enter through the double doors.

“Oh, that.” Izzy made a show of digging through her saddlebag of a purse, not exactly in keeping with her little black sheath, but it served its purpose. “I know it’s in here somewhere.”

The security guard wasn’t the least bit impressed. He tapped his toe on the floor and took a ready stance as if he expected her to run any moment. Just what she needed, a SWAT team wannabe. She batted her eyes at him and continued to dig in her purse.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s here somewhere.”

“Ma’am, you’ll need to leave the boat until you can find it.”

She laughed and tapped on his name tag with one perfectly manicured finger. “Now, Carl, you just hold on one teensy bit. We’ll get this straightened out.” Izzy slipped into her fake Southern drawl; it brought most men to their knees.

Not Carl. In fact, not one hair quivered on his mustache. “My orders are strict. No one, not even the governor, gets in without an invite.” He wrapped scrawny fingers around her arm and pulled her none too gently from the doorway. He might look like a wimp but the guy was surprisingly strong.

No matter. She’d switch to Plan B.

“My boyfriend will be here any moment. He must have the tickets.”

As if on cue, her target for the night walked up the ramp and onto the boat. Cooper Black. The captain of the newly christened Seattle Sockeyes, and the most outspoken man on the team against the team’s move and current situation, which he hated—the very man Izzy needed to tame tonight for this situation to turn around.

Judging by the stubborn set of his jaw and those steely blue eyes, this wasn’t going to be easy.

 

 

 

Contemporary Nights--New Release and Giveaway

AVAILABLE NOW: Contemporary Nights, Volume 1 (The Night Series)

C.J. Ellisson, Allie K. Adams, Hildie McQueen, Jami Davenport, Lila Dubois

 

USA Today and New York Times bestselling author, C.J. Ellisson, along with four other bestselling authors, have put together their hottest contemporary romances guaranteed to heat up your e-readers. Over 700 pages of international lovers, college geeks, sexy number crunchers, and playboy bachelors sweep you away to island hideaways, hot nights in Vegas, haunted Irish castles, and secret trysts. 

Avoiding Mr. Right by C.J. Ellisson: Carla Johnson thinks issuing orders to a lover will keep her heart safe and leave her in charge of her own destiny. Andy Shea refuses to become another lover the feisty blonde dumps. It’ll take a patient man with a strong hand to unlock Carla’s sexual awareness and win her heart—he’s very eager to prove this number cruncher won’t make a boring bedmate.

** New Release! One Night in Vegas by Hildie McQueen: The morning after Amy Leigh Paisley, is left behind in Las Vegas, she wakes up with not only a huge hangover, but married to Trent Mulherin, who happens to be Charleston’s most eligible bachelor. Who can blame a girl when she decides to keep her hot husband?
 

The Irish Lover by Lila Dubois: Mary Callahan doesn’t remember Glenncailty, or the handsome Michael Baker, yet she’s connected to both by a dark, dangerous past. Wary of her feelings for Michael, and the shadows within Glenncailty Castle, Mary must decide if she’s willing to risk her heart for a chance at love and a place to call home.
 

Grooming the Player by Allie K. Adams: Emma Rae hates players. When the king of the nerds asks her to turn him into one, she wants to say no, but he makes her an offer she can’t refuse. It’s not like she’ll turn him into anything she wants. He could be her greatest creation…or her ultimate downfall.

Save the Last Dance for Me by Jami Davenport: What’s a girl to do after her former fiancé declares that she’s frigid? Mariah Baker decides to take a jaunt on her wild side…if she can find it. The scruffy Puerto Rican leasing the waterfront house next door appears to be just the man for the mission. After all, what better way to defrost than with a sexy Latin lover? Only Rico isn’t who she thinks he is, and time is her enemy.

Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ICB1PMQ/

a Rafflecopter giveaway  

SEAHAWKS WIN---Sports Romance Blog Hop, February 3-5

As a life-long 12th woman, I am beyond excited. My Seahawks are the Super Bowl 48 champions!!! This graphic from Nike pretty much says it all:

 

 



 

 

The Super Bowl and all it's hype is over. What to do now? How about a blog hop featuring sports romance writers?

If you don't know me, I write the Seattle Lumberjacks football romance series. What you probably don't know about is that I am starting a hockey series also set in Seattle.

COMING THIS SUMMER:

The Seattle Sockeyes Hockey Series

New team, new owner, new coach, new location. Hockey in Seattle.

Seattle has a major league hockey team for the first time since 1924. Leaving sunny Florida for cold, rainy Seattle, the newly christened Sockeyes aren’t happy about their predicament at all. They’ve been forced to leave behind their fan base, their friends, and in some cases, their families. Their beloved coach has been fired along with his staff, and the team isn’t buying into the new coach’s philosophy or the new owner’s requirements.

Will this team grow as a unit or fall apart under the pressure? Will they find love and romance under cloudy skies and towering firs?

Enter to win a digital copy of one of my books (your choice) by leaving a comment. Click the links below to visit the other awesome sports romance authors on this blog hop:

1. Cassandra Carr

2. Jami Davenport

3. N Kuhn

4. Liz Matis

5. VL Locey

6. Laurie Peterson writing as Laurie Terson

7. Michel Prince

8. Jean Joachim

9. Kate Willoughby

10. Lily Harlem

11. Donna Gallagher

12. Normandie Alleman

13. Keira Andrews

14. Melanie Ting

15. Raw Talent Series

16. Bianca Sommerland

17. Suzan Butler

18. Megan Linden

Super Mojo Giveaway--January 26 to February 1

Calling all Seahawks fans, football fans, and romance readers, help Allie K. Adams break her bad Seahawks mojo so she can watch the game on Sunday. The more people who enter, the better our chances of lifting the curse.

Enter for your chance to win:

$25 gift certificate to Amazon from Allie K. Adams

$25 gift certificate to Amazon from Jami Davenport

Seattle Lumberjacks book of your choice (3) by JamiDavenport

Rescue Me by Allie K. Adams

Delectable by Adrianne Lee

Delicious by Adrianne Lee

Playing for Keeps by Liz Matis

A Groom for Christmas (ebook or print) by Cari Marsi

The Group Seduction by Wendy S. Marcus

Dragonstone by Paula Millhouse

Read what Allie has to say:

Seahawks vs. Broncos

Who's your team for the big game?  

If you say the Broncos, we may have to have a serious talk. The Seahawks have been my boys for as long as I can remember. I grew up in Seattle and, although I now live in Montana, I will always be a 12th [wo]man.

For those of you friends with me on Facebook, you know of my "bad mojo" when it comes to watching the Hawks. I only watched them three times in the regular season and guess what? That's right--they lost all three games. I started to watch the NFC championship game and our QB fumbles the ball on the first play. I don't know why I'm bad mojo to my boys, but the facts speak for themselves. I've been cursed. Unless we find someway to lift this curse, I'm banned from watching the Superbowl, which displeases me greatly.

That's where you come in! I've teamed up with bestselling authors Jami Davenport and Adrianne Lee to help me break this curse. We are doing massive giveaways in the hopes the good mojo from the prizes, and from both Jami and Adrianne, will be enough to free me from my bad mojo so I can watch the big game! The more entries, the better.

Here's my take if we don't get enough entries:
1. Distraught that she can't watch the game, Allie takes to the streets, looking for something to do;
2. She stumbles upon four men with questionable morals playing quarters in the back of a shady bar. There's no TV, so she's safe and joins the game;
3. She starts winning and requires the men to wear toilet paper rolls on the top of their heads while hollering out, "Ho, Thundercats!" before they drink;
4. The men are now sloppily boogered up (aka drunk--Allie'ism) and all want to marry her and be her love slave;

Don't make these men become love slaves. Save me before this happens! I tried to find a Peyton Manning voodoo doll when I was in New Orleans last week, but I only found beads and a drink called a monsoon. Fair warning--don't have more than one monsoon or you'll forget your name. But I digress...

Help me lift this curse so I can watch the game on Sunday by entering the contest. It doesn't cost you a thing and may be the difference between me watching the game and being forced to come up with something else to occupy my time. Review the list above if you think that's a good idea.

You just may be the difference between me being allowed to watch the big game and four random men becoming my love slaves.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Merry Christmas--Unedited Excerpt and Cover Revel for "Roughing the Passer"

Merry Christmas to everyone out there. I hope you're staying warm and enjoying yourself with friends, family, and once the craziness dies down, a good book. Just to get you jump-started for 2014, I'm revealing the cover the "Roughing the Passer" along with an unedited excerpt for this novella due out in spring of 2014.

 

Roughing the Passer

(Unedited excerpt)

(Contains adult language)

Tyler Harris, star NFL quarterback, not-so reformed bad-boy, and dedicated boyfriend staggered into the bar and bounced off a couple tables. Steadying himself with a hand on a stranger’s shoulder, he pushed off and let momentum carry him the rest of the way. His buddies and fellow teammates looked up at him in unison. Tyler shoved one of them over in the booth and collapsed onto the cushion.

The men swam in front of his eyes, blurring and moving in ways that made his head dizzy. Why the fuck didn’t they just sit still?

“You didn’t drive in that condition, did you?” Asked his cousin, Derek Ramsey, in his usual tight-ass, follow-the-rules manner.

Tyler sneered at him. “I took a taxi.”

“What has you so fucked up tonight?” Zach Murphy studied him, as if he couldn’t quite decipher Tyler’s problem.

“She left me.” The words caught in his throat and came out sounding pathetic and strangled.

Silence as the guys looked at each other in turn, telegraphing silent messages via their eyes and body language, born of thousands of hours on the football field together. Tyler understood because he’d been there, too. Except usually those secret messages included him. Today they shut him out, and he didn’t like it one damn bit. In fact, he hated it, hated being left out in the cold, but even that didn’t compare to the pain stabbing his heart with a relentless ruthlessness, as it drove him to his knees. Figuratively speaking.

Zach, the rat bastard spoke first. “Lavender finally got a brain to go with that beauty and kicked your ass to the curb?”

Tyler tightened his jaw and ground his teeth together, refusing to respond to the insult. Murphy had gotten a little too big for his britches after he’d retired from football a month ago and accepted a position as the Jacks’ linebackers coach. In fact, he’d become an insufferable ass.

Derek shook his head in shock and muttered, “I’m sorry, man, but you had it coming.”

Fuck that, a guy couldn’t even get a little respect and sympathy from his own cousin.

Bruiser Mackey snorted his drink through his nose—he’d been hanging out with no-manners-Murphy too long. “I saw this coming a year ago. You should’ve given the woman a ring, you fuckhead.”

Tyler fisted his hands, fantasizing about how good it would feel to slam his fists into Bruiser’s smug face. Just because the asshole pretended to be happily married didn’t mean the rest of the world was that stupid. Or were they?

Looking at each one of his buddies—his partners in crime—the guys who stood by him on and off the field, Tyler got the distinct feeling they thought he was the dumbshit. Tyler didn’t like being the dumbshit. After all, he’d grown beyond that—thanks to she-who-would-not-be-named. Hell, he’d embraced his sensitive side as much as he fucking could with her insistence. He’d even given her free rein to do damage to his extensive credit limit.

What more could she want?

Like he didn’t know that answer to that question.

She wanted the one thing he just flatout could not give.



"Time of Possession" Teaser

An early Christmas present for all of you out there. Here's an unedited version of the first few pages of Time of Possession:

 

Brett Gunnels had an intimate relationship with his clipboard.

After all, that clipboard was where he played his game, not out on the football field. Every Sunday during the season he could be found standing on the sideline, clutching his worn clipboard and making notes.

Today, like any day, Brett held his clipboard and roamed the sidelines, calling out to the Seattle Lumberjacks starting quarterback when he saw something. Not that Tyler Harris would hear him or listen if he did. A couple penalties set them back to the 49ers’ forty-yard-line on third and twenty-five, fifteen seconds on the clock and out of field-goal range.

Harris took the ball from center and stepped back, staying in the pocket with the coolness and finesse of the elite quarterback he was. A second later, the pocket collapsed around him, he scrambled, running for his life while looking for an open receiver, only every one of them was covered. He never saw the guy coming from his blindside.

Brett cringed, as a 49ers’ linebacker put a vicious hit on Harris. The Seattle Lumberjacks quarterback was known for his toughness, but from Brett’s point of view, knees didn’t bend like that.

As his teammates returned to the huddle, a couple of them looked toward Harris, as if expecting him to bounce to his feet because he always did. Sprawled on his back, the two-time championship quarterback didn’t move. Not even an eyelash.

A hush came over the crowd, eerie in its silence, while a cold wind of fear blew through the stadium. Harris’s cousin and the Jacks number one wide receiver, Derek Ramsey, knelt beside him, as the coaches and trainers hurried onto the field. The offensive line huddled nearby, pretending not to stare but doing so anyway, worried etched on the big guys’ faces.

Brett might not like Harris much—not many guys did—but his grudging respect for the guy’s talent and try overrode any personal issues he might have. Besides, no one wanted to see a teammate laid out on the field like that. An icy shiver radiated up Brett’s spine as his brain transported him to another time, sand stretching as far as the eye could see, another body not moving. Nothing. Not even an eyelash. Just like Harris was now. Brett shook his head, forcing those memories back into the compartment they’d briefly escaped from.

This wasn’t a war zone—well, not exactly—and his teammate was known for his dramatics. He was probably taking a two-minute fiesta at the expense of everyone’s nerves. He’d hop to his feet in a moment and chastise them for being such dumbasses.

Only Harris didn’t. Brett couldn’t stand on the sidelines and do nothing. He ran onto the field to join his teammates. Harris’s chalky face looked like death. Brett swallowed back the fear and bolstered his courage. He’d be okay. He had to be.

After several tense minutes, Harris sat up and shook his head. The team breathed a collective sigh of relief. Groggily, he accepted assistance to his feet, only to have his knees buckle. He went down again, clutching his leg, pain carved into his usually stoic face as he rolled back and forth on the turf. A few seconds later, two linemen helped him onto a cart, and they zipped him off the field and down the tunnel.

Only then did Bret realize the coach was yelling at him. “Get your helmet on.”

Standing on the fifty-yard-line, the guys in the huddle stared at him, their faces expressionless, yet Brett read their minds. They thought he was a fucking idiot. Frantic, he looked for his helmet but couldn’t find it, until Zach Murphy, their all-pro linebacker, shoved it in his hands. Strapping it on as he ran, Brett got to the huddle, only to find the mic in his helmet wasn’t working, and he didn’t have a fucking clue what play to call.

Embarrassed, he signaled for a timeout and jogged back to the sidelines accompanied by a smattering of boos. Great confidence booster for a guy who rarely played a down during the regular season.  

Back in the huddle, he called the play, a quick out-pass to Derek, hoping to catch the defense expecting a run because of the quarterback change.

Brett took the snap, stepped back, and tossed an easy throw to Ramsey only to throw it short. A linebacker picked it off and ran it back for a touchdown. Game over.

Frustrated, Brett slammed his helmet to the turf. He didn’t glance at the crowd or the bench. Avoiding the coaches, he sprinted for the locker room to drown his incompetent ass in the showers.