Meet-cute Match-ups Hockey Romcom Bundle

Stand-alone, hockey romcom novellas that will have you laughing from beginning to end as you root for the main characters to find their happily ever afters!

Excerpt from "Sugar, Ice, and Everything Nice."

My day-three hair was piled on top of my head in a gigantic messy bun that looked suspiciously like I’d slept in it the night before. If anyone had bothered to ask as I marched down the sidewalk, I’d have simply replied, “No comment.”


I was on a mini-vacation, and I guess my idea of living it up was letting myself go. Man, did it ever feel nice to walk around in a city I had zero connection to and not care what anyone thought. It was worlds apart from the buttoned-up life I lived at home. I was as free as a bird here and flying just as high in my yoga pants and oversized sweater—bonus points for the boujee way it fell off my shoulder, exposing my cute tank beneath. 


Okay, so maybe I cared a little bit about my appearance.


“Come along, Lord Percival,” I said to all one hundred and fifty pounds of furry Newfoundland love plodding along beside me, “I could use a drink after that drive.”


Percy panted in reply and followed me into Sweet ‘N’ Smooth. The pictures in the windows promised all the smoothie goodness I could handle and enough treats to satisfy even my elephant-sized dog.


The place was hopping and packed to the gills with customers taking too long to order their specialty smoothies with extra this, none of that, and just a hint of the other. Fancy drinks weren’t my speed. Wren Penrose was a simple woman with simple needs. One glance at the menu told me everything I needed to know. I was walking out of there with a strawberry banana blast.


Simple.


My heart nearly leapt out of my chest when my bulging eyes landed on the face of a celebrity—well, a man who was a celebrity in the bookish world I called home. My breath hitched in my throat as I fumbled in my bag, feeling around for Daphne Rose Love’s hot new romance novel. 


The man at the front of the line was a dead ringer for Daphne’s go-to cover model, Dash Rapture. Now, I’d never been the silly type of person to go weak in the knees over a pretty face and chiseled jawline, but I’d consider making an exception if I were to ever run into Dash in the flesh. 


My fingers tingled when they found the slick, glossy cover. As nonchalantly as a woman with burning cheeks and a dog drooling enough to create a slipping hazard could manage, I eased the book out just far enough to compare the two mesmerizing faces in front of me.


If only that guy in line would stand still! But how was he supposed to do that with the way my fellow customers fawned all over him? Anyone would think he was royalty or something with the way these people were acting. 


All hail the Smoothie King. I snickered at the poor guy’s expense.


But seriously, I needed these people to back up a little. I couldn’t get a clear view of His Majesty’s face with them catching his attention every five seconds, slapping his back, and telling him they couldn’t wait to see him that night. Were they all going to the same party?


I didn’t know, and I didn’t really care. All I wanted was to figure out if I was looking at the back of Dash Rapture’s head, or that of an imposter. 


Then he did it. The guy turned around and smiled at someone else in line. My shoulders slumped. He was an imposter. I dropped my book back into the deep recesses of my bag without taking my eyes off that Dash-wanna-be, instinctively noting all the differences between the two faces.


Honestly, each difference in this mystery man’s face was an improvement over Dash’s, though I could never admit that to the girls at the indie bookstore where I worked back home. Everything, from his icy-blue eyes to the thick, chocolate-brown waves on the top of his head, was a notch above. And I didn’t think even Dash could fill out a hoodie the way the Smoothie King up there could. 


Satisfied that I was in fact not in the presence of literary nobility, I let my gaze wander around the shop. That’s when I spotted it. A self-serve case just feet away. It was home to the best cupcakes in the city.


I assumed they must have been the best, at least; why else would there only be one left?


Change of plans. I’d be walking out of there with a strawberry banana blast and whatever kind of cupcake that was. I didn’t have to tell Percy twice to step out of line with me to go get that cupcake. His food radar was already on high alert, and he led the way.


I opened the plexiglass door and snatched my sweet vacation treat. 


“Cupcake thief!” A deep voice came through the case and sent a shockwave through me—the kind of shockwave I wouldn’t mind feeling every day.


I bent down and sucked in a sharp breath when I peered into the case and found myself looking into the same icy-blue eyes I’d been admiring not long ago.