Penalty Play
Penalty Play
By Lynda Aicher
Minnesota Glaciers’ starting defenseman Henrik Grenick is good at two things: hockey and sex. He’s got it all—the career, the biceps, the babes. But the steady parade of women through his bedroom just leaves him wanting more, hunting for the next distraction. Until he meets Jacqui, who awakens a hunger he never knew he craved.
Fiercely independent Jacqui Polson has no time for the seductive hockey player demanding her attention. More band geek than bimbo, she’s in an entirely different league, and growing up with four hockey-crazed brothers left her with no interest in that world. But damn, Henrik’s hot. And when it comes to sex, Jacqui knows exactly what she wants.
As their relationship moves beyond games, Henrik needs more—not just of Jacqui’s touch, but of her. Jacqui discovers there’s more to Henrik than just the gruff facade. But after a lifetime of fighting their own battles, neither has ever let anyone get so close. As they soon find out, needing someone isn’t a weakness, it’s the only thing that matters…
Book three of the Power Play series
95,160 words
Dear Reader,
This month, Julie Anne Lindsey kicks off a new cozy mystery series with A Geek Girl’s Guide to Murder. When a geek girl finds a friend’s body in her office, she puts her high IQ to work uncovering the killer. Check out this first book of The Geek Girl Mysteries!
Contemporary romance author Caitlin Sinead has a beautiful cover (seriously, go check it out) and a fantastic new story in Red Blooded. Peyton Arthur should be helping her mom become the next vice president of the United States, not investigating damaging rumors about her deceased father. And Dylan Torres, a campaign worker, should be keeping Peyton out of trouble, not falling for her.
Also in contemporary romance, Finding Center is Katherine Locke’s story of Zed and Aly. Ballet and Zed are two of Aly’s greatest loves, but it will take all of her strength to keep them both in her life. Check out the free online prequel Turning Pointe, as well as book one in the District Ballet Company series, Second Position.
Marine Sergeant Blaze Johnson kept his promise but Layna Blair couldn’t escape her past—now that Blaze is wounded, it’s up to Layna to save them both in Sybil Bartel’s Impossible Choice, the follow-up to her contemporary romance Impossible Promise.
We’re pleased to welcome Jill Sorenson to our contemporary romance lineup. This month we’re reissuing her ultra-sexy romance that gives us a peek into the world of motorcycle clubs, Riding Dirty. Psychologist Mia Richards wants revenge. Her new client, tattooed Cole “Shank” Shepherd, provides the perfect means. She just has to manipulate the felon-turned-informant into eliminating her husband’s killers—members of a rival motorcycle club. The first step, seducing Cole, is simple. As for walking away before she falls hard—it’s already too late… Riding Dirty will be available at a bargain price to lead into her September new release, Shooting Dirty.
2015 RITA® Award-nominated author Lynda Aicher’s Penalty Play is the third book in the erotic sports romance Power Play trilogy. Starting defenseman Henrik Grenick has almost convinced himself he’s happy—until he meets unassuming Jacqui Polson. Fiercely independent with no need for hockey or the men who play it, Jacqui is the more Henrik wants, except sex is the only thing she seems to want from him. Can he change her mind or will the one girl he finally loves be the one who breaks his heart?
We have two fantastic male/male romances to share with you this month. Back with one of her popular erotic historical male/male novels, Ava March’s Viscount’s Wager, the third book in her Gambling on Love series, will have you turning the pages and then going back for the stories you missed. When a viscount’s teenage crush returns to London, can the men grab their second chance at love or will the secrets they hide tear them apart once again?
What’s life without a little risk? Or a lot of risk, if you’re Sebastian Carlisle. He’ll never live up to the legacy of his dead brother, so why try? Being the wild child in a family of stuck-up rich snobs suits him just fine. Until he meets Micah Burke and everything changes. Pick up Reckless Hope, the next title in the Letting Go series by j. leigh bailey, this August!
Last, what begins as a normal rescue mission turns deadly in Sharon Calvin’s Jayhawk Down, book two of romantic suspense series Gulf Coast Rescue. ER doctor and army reserve Black Hawk pilot Stillman Gray has nothing but respect for Coast Guard lieutenant Caitlyn Stone, but he’s not the only one who’s noticed her—a terrorist is looking to hijack a helicopter, and he’s decided Caitlyn is the perfect target.
Looking for more great beach reads to cap off your summer? Be sure to check out our backlist of fun summer reading, including Slow Summer Kisses by Shannon Stacey, Monster in My Closet by RL Naquin, Sharing Hailey by Samantha Ann King, No One Lives Twice by Julie Moffett, High and Tight by Vanessa North and Deadly Descent by Kaylea Cross.
Until next time, here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.
Happy reading!
Angela James
Editorial Director, Carina Press
Dedication
To Chris, because I love you. And to Rhonda, because you haven’t killed me yet.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Also by Lynda Aicher
About the Author
Chapter One
“So that’s it?” Henrik Grenick stared at the retreating back of his latest girlfriend. Probably ex-girlfriend now. “We’re done?”
Patricia—don’t you dare call me Patty—flung her wavy blond hair over her shoulder to level an icy glare at him. Her perfectly outlined and colored lip curled up in what he assumed was supposed to be a sophisticated sneer. The sophisticated part didn’t work so well for her, not that he’d say anything. There was no sense in poking the already angry cat.
“If I have to tell you the answer to that—” she scanned him with a disgusted flick of her eyes, “—then you really are dumber than I thought.”
Was that barb supposed to hurt? It barely fluttered over his skin as it sailed past. “I’m just making sure.” Experience had taught him it was always best to clarify when it came to women. With the hockey season starting next week, he didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with an ex-girlfriend versus new-girlfriend fight.
And there would be a new girlfriend.
She huffed out an exasperated snarl then whipped back around. The handle on her designer roller bag snapped up with a soft click that contradicted the applied force. He quickly covered his mouth to hold in his chuckle. He definitely didn’t want to antagonize her and draw out this latest breakup.
The faster she was out the door, the smoother it would go for him.
“I can’t believe I put up with your stu
pid ass for so long.” The pointed heels on her leather boots fired parting shots of disdain on the hardwood floor as she stormed to the front door, the bag adding a low purr of pending departure. With her designer handbag—one he’d bought her along with the roller bag and leather coat and, hell, her entire outfit—hooked on the crook of her elbow, she flung out the door, pausing long enough to send one last scathing look his way. “You were a lousy lay, too.”
The slam of the door echoed through the vaulted ceilings and bounced around the open floor plan. The artwork on the hallway walls shook but held strong. He’d had them remounted with secured hangings after one crashed to the floor following a similar exit from a similar girlfriend three years back. Maybe four.
Her last remark was just another in a long list of complaints filed against him by an equally long list of people. Whatever.
“So that’s a yes then?” he asked the silent house. He’d have to take Patricia’s non-verbal reply as an affirmative. They were over.
His heavy sigh rattled through his lungs and dragged his shoulders down, along with his head. In relief or resignation? Both probably. Discerning the truth would take a level of self-analysis he was too tired to go into.
He reached for a beer in the cold depths of his beverage fridge, only to switch his choice at the last second. The bottle of water wouldn’t be nearly as mentally satisfying, but he was in full-on training mode, and a breakup wasn’t going to shove him off that path.
Hell. He could have a new girl attached to his arm this weekend, if not earlier. The Minnesota Glaciers had a big promo event scheduled for Saturday night, and there would be plenty of women there looking for a hockey player boyfriend just in time for the start of the season. He’d have his fucking pick of women.
If one didn’t find him first.
That was how it usually worked, and he was completely fine with that. It was less effort for him and had the same end-result. A woman on his arm to absorb the echoes around him.
He slugged down a gulp of water and wandered out to the balcony. The late September breeze held a bite of cooler air from the Northerly flow, but the sun warmed his skin and kept the temperature almost perfect.
His house was built on a slope with the lower floor hidden from the front and surrounded by three acres of woodland. It’d been the floor-to-ceiling windows on both levels that opened to the view of the trees that he’d fallen in love with. He marked the seasons by the changing state of the forest and enjoyed every phase. The orange and yellow blasts of color were a sure sign winter was coming.
He lifted his face to the sun and let it soak away the remnants of Patricia’s wrath. All that angst because he’d neglected to buy the diamond necklace she’d wanted. Or was it because he’d snapped at her for setting her drink on his grand piano? Whatever. But he’d never understand why some women had to be so bitchy and cutting when they left.
He snorted out a harsh breath, head shaking. It was his choice of girlfriends more than women in general.
Shit. He jammed the empty bottle into the trash can and yanked his cell phone out of the pocket of his cargo shorts. There had to be someone around who’d want to hang out for a bit. Get a bite to eat or, he checked the time, maybe a late workout or a game of tennis or something.
His legs were still sore from the morning practice and the drills from his personal trainer. That was after the two-hour workout with the Glaciers’ trainer. He could handle more though, if it got him out of the house.
He scrolled through his contacts, flashing past his go-to friends. Walters had fucking bailed the state to move in with his girlfriend in Atlanta. It’d been a fantastic move for the man, but left Henrik without his best friend. Hauke and Rylie were often tied up with their women, and he didn’t need to be reminded of his newly single status. A state he always tried to remedy before it was generally known.
He settled on Isaac Sparks and pressed call. He didn’t hang out with his defensive partner as a rule, primarily because he never thought about it.
“Roller?”
Henrik had become Roller in college, the nickname morphing from Steamroller after his aggressive style of play.
He blew past the confused note in Sparks’s voice. “Hey, Sparky. How’s it going?”
There was a pause before a hesitant “Fine.”
“Cool.” Henrik scratched at the scruff on his cheek and plowed on. “Are you up to anything this evening? I was thinking of hitting a movie or playing some tennis. You free?”
“Shit, Roller.” A loud sigh came over the line. “I’m beat. I was planning on staying in and hitting the sack early.”
“Sure.” His disappointment rushed out in a gush of air. “Be lame.”
“Come on,” Sparks groaned. “You’ve seen how Coach has been riding me since practice started. And with Rylie back, I’m only one mistake away from being bumped to second pair.”
Yeah. The writing was clear now that Rylie was playing even better than before his season-ending injury last February.
“You think so?” he asked, playing the obtuse role that kept him out of conflict. “Maybe it’ll be me who’s bumped.”
The disgusted cut of a laugh said exactly how much Sparks believed that. “Nice try.”
And that put an abrupt end to the conversation. What did Henrik say to that? It wasn’t like he wasn’t working his ass off to save his own spot. “I’ll see you at practice.”
“Sure.”
The line went dead before he could press end. He and Sparks had been the first pair defensemen for the last two seasons. Henrik had worked his way into that starting spot four years ago and based on cycles, age and attrition, he could be bumped—or yanked—back out of it pretty damn soon.
But not this year. He wasn’t that old yet.
He flew over a dozen other names to call before abandoning the idea with a harsh curse. A bird squawked an irritated response, which was followed by an equally annoyed reply. His chuckle was dry and bitter. Even the birds had someone to bitch at. Great.
Excess energy prickled over his skin to crawl across his nape. He rolled his head and bolted inside, paced through the kitchen, circled around to his formal living room and ended up back at the picture windows staring at the view he’d just left. He shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched forward, the emptiness closing in faster than he could push it back.
He jerked up, mind scrambling for an errand to do. The groceries were stocked by his maid, who’d already left for the day. The lawn crew took care of the landscaping. The Glaciers managed his hockey equipment, and his personal chef had a stack of meals waiting in his refrigerator. His stylist had left a rack of clothing for him to go through, but that was in his closet and wouldn’t get him out of the house.
Did his car need gas? He bounced on his toes. New shoes? Yeah. The ones he had on were two months old. Was it time for a new pair?
Did it matter?
Absolutely not.
He made a quick dive into his bedroom to change his shirt and grab a baseball hat. He didn’t feel like being recognized, not now. His six-five frame made it impossible for him to hide, but he could sometimes blend in. It was his best—only—option.
He was halfway to the front door when his gaze landed on the grand piano tucked into the far corner of the room. Sun streamed through the bank of windows to cast its rays near but not on the gleaming lacquer finish. Dust motes floated past the polished surface, as if they didn’t dare land on the imposing instrument.
He slowed then stopped, pulse racing with want and refusal. His fingers curled in then flexed on their own, automatically stretching in preparation to play. He could lose himself behind the keys, fill the house with a shifting sonata or quick waltz.
Ten years wasn’t long enough for his muscle memory to forget the fifteen years of training that’d been piled into him before he’d abandoned the instrument.
The guitar was safer. Easier to handle—mentally.
He jerked his gaze to the four guitars hanging
on the wall half hidden behind the piano. Patricia had turned her nose up the time she’d walked in on him playing, so he hadn’t picked one up in over four months. He’d need new strings—right?
He ran his thumb over the faded calluses on his fingertips. Maybe it was time to add another guitar to his collection. Something to commemorate playing again. That sounded good.
And when he got back, he’d play every damn guitar until the exhaustion allowed him to sleep.
Chapter Two
Jacqui Polson wiped the dust cloth over the counter, head bobbing to the music coming from the store speakers. A couple of guys were picking out chords on the floor guitars in the back, their random twangs pinging over the piped-in notes in a rhythm that came through as normal to her.
Six years of working at Falcon Music store had tuned her brain to either ignore the haphazard jumble of sound or to home in on a specific instrument and follow only it. Or maybe that ability came from her twenty-plus years of music training. Either way, she silently ticked off each note coming from the acoustic guitar—D, C#, F—the mental exercise happening automatically.
Bells jingled as the front door swung open, a girl and her mother entering. Jacqui tucked the dust cloth under the counter and headed around to greet the new customers.
“Can I help you find anything?” She didn’t recognize them and sizing up the age of the child—middle school—she’d bet money on the girl needing an instrument for a band class.
The mother offered a relieved smile. “We need to rent a clarinet if you still have any. Hailey made a late election into band.”