Page 1 of Knot Your Pucking Mate
Chapter One
Mandy
Plopping down on my oversized bean bag, I balance my laptop across my thighs and lift the lid. I bite into my strawberry Twizzler, savoring the sweet flavor while waiting for the computer to boot up.
My phone buzzes, and I see a message come through from Vae. She started off as an enthusiastic ARC reader, one who devoured every single word I wrote. But the more we talked, the more we hit it off, and she quickly became one of my closest friends and biggest cheerleaders.
Vae
Hockey Butts. Trust me. ;-)
I snort a laugh. My dear friend has an agenda.
Vae recently read a couple of hockey romances and is now convinced that’s what my next book should be. She thinks it’ll be my big break, the thing that’ll take me from where I am now—a fairly successful indie author—to mega stardom. She is an expert, really. Not only is she a voracious reader, but she’s also surrounded by real-life hockey players all day, every day.
Mandy
Let the research commence!
Vae
Work your magic.
Tossing my phone away with a chuckle, I navigate to the search engine on my laptop and do as she says. She isn’t wrong about hockey butts. The glutes on these guys are phenomenal. If I were her, I’d probably spend all day staring and drooling. Likely coating the stadium in my scent: sweet roasted marshmallows and melted chocolate. It’s been compared to how s’mores taste when you get that perfect bite.
I’m a seasoned omega—unlike Vae, who is new to this designation—but even I have zero control over when it happens.
The more I scroll, the more inspired I feel. The story comes to me in bits and pieces until an outline forms in my mind faster than my fingers can type. This kind of inspiration hasn’t hit me for the longest time, and I savor the freefall into this new world and the story waiting to be told. That feeling of getting lost, of learning my characters, their wants, needs and desires, and of watching their journey form overtakes me.
It's hours before I come up for air, the rumbling of my stomach too insistent to ignore any longer and the light outside my window dimming in an early evening glow.
Somehow, I’ve managed to form a chapter-by-chapter summary of the overarching plot, as well as complete character profiles and explanations of their individual journeys in one session. Normally this takes me a week or more to conceptualize.
There’s only one thing bothering me. One thing that doesn’t sit right and makes me question if this is a story I should be writing. And that’s my lack of knowledge about the game of hockey. I’ve never watched a game. Never set foot inside a stadium. Hell, I’ve never even read a hockey romance.
I’m a successful indie author. My writing makes me enough money to support myself comfortably, and I’m confident in my ability to write a great romance novel. But this? A sports romance? I’m a little out of my depth.
Placing my laptop on the floor beside my beanbag chair, I stand up and stretch, working out the kinks from sitting in the same position for so long. There’s an argument that I should set up a proper office, complete with a desk and ergonomic chair—you know, with writing being my career and everything—but my omega nature is soothed when I work from my bed or nest.
I collect my phone from where I tossed it aside earlier and wander toward the kitchen. As I gather the ingredients to put together a quick grilled cheese, I scroll through my messages.
There’s a couple in my family group chat from Mom reminding me about dinner tomorrow night and my dad’s teasing her about how excited she gets for our dinner dates. It’s cute and puts a smile on my face. My family means the world to me; as much as they tease Mom, I know my dad’s love our weekly dinners too. I send off a quick reply letting them know I’ll bring dessert and check the remaining messages.
There’s one from my editor letting me know she’ll have my latest manuscript returned to me by the weekend, and another from my formatter confirming our booking.
The rest are from Vae, who seems to be not so patiently awaiting an update.
Vae
How’s it going?
Have the butts inspired you yet?
Mandy?
If I know you, you’re currently lost in your planning phase and there’ll be no update for hours. But I know the butts won. Which means I won, and Mandy Paige’s next release will be a wildly popular hockey romance
Mandy Paige is my pen name. Cliché, right? But it works. My in-real-life surname, Paine, might have worked if I were inclined towrite dark romance. But light and fluffy romantic comedy holds my heart, so Paige it is.
