Title
Lincoln (A Los Angeles Quakes Hockey Series – Book 1)
Author
Alisa Jean
Genre
Romance, hockey romance
Book Blurb
L.A. Quakes’ fans stomped their feet to cheers of “Caveman!” when I made incredible saves in the crease, leading the team to two Stanley Cup victories. I thought I could go on forever, but at thirty-six, the clock’s counting down even for Lincoln Cavanaugh. Social media and fan sites are filled with rumors of me being traded. Or worse. My future looks as uncertain as a loose puck on the ice.
My fate rests in the hands of Catherine Bishop, daughter of the team’s owner and a power to be reckoned with. And what fine hands they are, along with everything else about her. A chance encounter leads to sparks between us, but is falling in love with this incredible woman worth the risk?
Because with her by my side, I’m once again an unstoppable force between the pipes, and victories pile up like never before. However, our love is a ticking time bomb because Catherine has dreams of making history as the first female and person of color to own an NHL team. Sleeping with a player would make that all go up in smoke. I fear when the truth comes out, it will be the final buzzer for us.
Excerpt
I take his tiny gloved hand in my large one and start skating to where the Tremblers are standing in lines in front of the coaches. My friends are right behind me when we stop next to the staff, and I give the boy a gentle push. “Go get back in formation.”
Coach Greer holds out a hand, which I shake. “Thanks for doing this, it means the world to the kids.”
“It’s our pleasure.” My teammates nod along in agreement.
Greer introduces us to the tiny players and as I gaze over the group, I’m happy to see a lot of girls. This isn’t always the case at this age, so I’m glad their numbers are growing. Usually, they’d rather be figure skating. We’re about to break into groups for drills when I hear another pair of skates hit the ice. Turning, I’m stunned to see Catherine gliding toward us.
I spin and whisper-shout, “Who the hell invited her?” while glaring at my friends.
“Um,” Ribi raises a hand. “I thought since she was interested, she could tag along.”
My lips thin into a frown. All three of them bust out laughing. Oh shit, this is a setup.
“Hey. Sorry, I’m late. Traffic coming over the hill was murder.” She murmurs to us, then smiles and gives a wave at the kids. “Hi everyone, I think I missed the intros. I’m Catherine Bishop. My father, Robert Bishop, is the owner of the Los Angeles Quakes. I’m not the best hockey player, so I hope you’ll teach me.”
Which is bullshit. I know she played in college. They weren’t champs or anything, but she knows her way around the ice. I smile, knowing she’s fibbing for the kids’ sake.
And she’s adorable. She threaded her ponytail through the back of her Quakes’ baseball cap. Her hair swishes back and forth every time she moves. She must have gotten the memo, because she’s dressed identically to us, from hockey skates, black snow pants, and a Quakes’ sweater, though hers isn’t numbered. It’s a blank. The hockey gloves swallow her hands, but she holds her stick like she knows how to use it.
Since the introductions are finished, the kids break into groups for drills and my teammates spread out to help. The time flies and my cheeks hurt from the constant smiling.
Then Sonny yells over in that commanding captain's voice, “Caveman, little help in the right circle.” I snap to it, instinctively following his orders because, on the ice, he’s the leader. We all follow and would do anything for him. Then I realize he’s sending me over to Catherine, who is having trouble teaching a little girl how to skate backward. Ribi and Bri are both closer, so his master plan isn’t exactly subtle. If there weren’t kids around, I’d tell him where to shove it, but we’re here for them, so I skate over to help.
“There seems to be a bit of a balance problem over here.”
“I’m a good skater,” Catherine states. “But apparently not the best instructor.”
“No worries,” I crouch in front of the little skater. “What’s your name?”
“Lacey.”
“Nice to meet you, Lacey. Can I show you something?”
She nods her head frantically, and my smile turns into a grin. I stand and hold my stick across my body and lower it to her height. “Grab on with both hands.” She does. Next, I bend my knees a little and lean a tiny bit forward at my waist. “Okay, copy me.” Lacey does, and I start skating forward. She’s pushed along with her grip on my stick. “Good. Keep moving your skates. Excellent. Now take one hand off.” Her balance wobbles, but she recovers. “Great job. Now, without losing your position, I want you to let go and keep skating.”
She looks a little nervous but follows through. She remains upright and skates backward.
“Awesome, Lacey. Look at you go.”
“I’m doing it! I’ve got this.” Her voice filled with pride and smiles.
“Yes, you do. Keep going.” I encourage her and step to the side, watching her skate away.
Catherine skates over. “You’re pretty amazing yourself. It’s like you have this magical touch. I spent almost twenty minutes with Lacey and got nowhere. You skate by and in less than a minute, she can skate backward on her own.”
Before I can reply, I’m slammed from behind, cut off at the knees. I fall forward into Catherine and we both go down. A little boy does a victory circle around us before skating off. I hear my friends laughing, those fuckers. I’ve got to be crushing her, so I move my weight to my arms and look down. “Are you all right? Did you hit your head?” We aren’t wearing helmets. I don’t want her to move if she’s hurt. It’s when I’m staring at her I realize how incredible she feels beneath me, all soft and curvy. I need to banish those thoughts before my cock gets ideas. There’s no way she wouldn’t notice in this position.
“I think I’m good.”
“Okay, let’s take it slow.” I get to my feet and hold out a hand, pulling her up. She’s standing close, so it’s easy to touch the back of her head. “Any pain or tenderness?”
“N-no, I-I’m fine.”
I stare into her eyes. They’re an amazing combination of brown and green. This woman. There’s so much more to her than anyone knows. Screw it. I’m going for it.
“Catherine,” I whisper.
“Y-yes?”
I lean a little closer, our noses almost touching. “Have dinner with me? Sunday.” This close, I can see her eyes dilate with my question. She’s attracted to me. “Come on, say yes.”
“It’s a bad idea,” she whispers back.
“Probably, but let’s do it anyway,” I smirk because I can’t help myself.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” I smile and skate backward, away from her. This is either the best decision ever or the worst mistake of my life.
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Author Biography
Alisa Jean is the pseudonym for award-winning authors Marla A. White and C J Bahr. They first teamed up over thirty years ago over a bottle of Zima (don’t ask) while polishing their gear for a horse show. They’ve since moved on to better beverages and writing novels. Separately, Marla prefers to murder characters in the usual way while C J uses paranormal means. The long-time best friends joined together as a writing team through their mutual love of hockey. Wonder twin powers activated! Their hockey romances examine flawed characters with heart, humor, and sexy sizzle.
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