Page 2 of Knot Your Pucking Mate
Flipping my grilled cheese in the pan, I hit dial, calling Vae. If I want to pull this off, honor my characters and the stories they’ve entrusted me with, then I need a hockey education.
Who better to teach me than Vae? The girl practically lives and breathes this stuff.
“Finally!” she exclaims, answering my call. “I thought you’d never get your ass up out of that dirty old beanbag.”
“Hey!” I scold, feigning offence. “It’s old, but it’s not dirty. It’s well—”
“Well-loved. I know. I know. Still think you should upgrade. Anyway, that’s not the point. How did it go? Where did the hockey butts lead you?”
“Down a rabbit hole,” I say with a laugh. “You were right, Vae. Hockey romance is definitely hot right now. The characters appeared, and their story is ready to be told. But I don’t have any experience or understanding of hockey as a sport. I can’t write what I don’t know.”
“Then you just need to know it,” Vae replies, like that’s all there is to it. “Come with me to watch the guys practice tomorrow. I’ll talk you through it, get you started on the knowing.”
“Are you sure? Will that be okay?”
“Of course! They’re pretty used to my ass hanging around. You’ll be some fresh eye candy, though,” she snorts.
“They’ll be too busy chasing the puck to notice me,” I scoff. “You’re on, though. Sounds like just what I need to wrap my head around the game and learn the terminology and stuff.”
“Meet me at Pinnacle Arena at seven a.m.? Bring coffee. And Mandy?”
“Yeah?”
“Wear your scent-blocking panties. You’ll need them.”
“They just glide over the ice, don’t they?” I ask in awe as I watch the Scented Scorpions at their morning practice. The alphas’ movements are mesmerizing, each of the players moving with a grace that seems to defy their size.
“Yeah, sometimes. Games can get pretty rough, though. So far, it’s been a pretty shit season.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, my gaze locked on the team as they run their drills, tracking one alpha in particular across the ice. It’s hard totell from where we’re seated in the stands, but he looks a fraction smaller than some others, faster too. He turns, and I catch sight of the number on his jersey. Number 3.
“The team is full of alphas, dear,” a woman’s voice sounds from behind, and I twist to see who has joined us. A professional, older-looking woman stands on the stairs to the left, her blazer pressed perfectly and her skirt sitting just below her knees. “They’ve taken to competing against one another, and not the opposition. I’m working on fixing that.”
“Hi Marilyn,” Vae greets, offering the woman a smile. “Mandy, this is Marilyn. She heads up the team's PR. Hell of a job if you ask me. Marilyn, this is Mandy Paine. She’s a romance author looking to break into sports romance. We thought watching the team would give her an edge in writing about hockey players.”
“Nice to meet you, Mandy,” Marilyn says, holding out her hand. Everything about her is prim and proper, with not a strand of her perfectly styled, short blonde hair out of place.
Rising from my seat, I take her hand and shake it, surprised by the firmness of her grip. Her fabric softener scent marks her as an alpha but is somehow soothing, despite her ‘take no shit’ appearance.
“Hmmm. I’m not sure I’m familiar with your work. Do you write under a pen name?” She drops my hand, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me in question, her eyes creasing a little at the edges like she’s trying to figure something out.
“Yes, but there’s only a single-letter difference. I publish under the name Mandy Paige.”
Her eyes widen and a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, like she’s made the connection and is quite pleased about it. “Ah, that’s right. Your most recent release was Purrfect Strangers, wasn’t it?” Marilyn doesn’t seem like the type to read romance books, but then again, you should never judge a book by its cover.
“It is. The second in the duet should be out in the next few weeks.” I say with a smile. “Final round of editing is in the works, and the formatter is scheduled.”
“You do it all yourself?” Marilyn asks. Vae’s eyes dart between us, her expression a mix of confusion and delight. What is going on?
“I hire others for some parts, like editing and formatting, but I’m self-published. I like the control I have that way. I’m not sure I’d be able to give it up, even if I were offered the right contract.”
“Yes, yes. I think I’d feel the same. Control is an advantage. Holding on to it can give us an edge we’d lack otherwise.” Her gaze darts down to the ice, where the players have finished their practice and are heading for the locker rooms. “How would you feel about working together? Our goals seem well aligned. I’m working on more positive press for the team, and I think having a successful romance author shadow a couple of our team members—perhaps even posting about the experience on her socials—could help us both. You’d get the exposure to the sportthat you need, as well as some advertising opportunities. And the Scented Scorpions might be able to tap into a new audience. What do you say?”
Vae laughs with delight as I try to let my mouth catch up to my racing thoughts. It sounds like a beneficial arrangement for both of us. It will definitely help my understanding of the game. To have that kind of access to some of the players will be invaluable. Plus, the pre-emptive marketing of my book by blogging about the experience? This could work.
“Yes. Yes. Thank you. That sounds incredible. When can we start?”
“Right away. Follow me. I have the perfect pair in mind.”
