I’m excited to introduce Verona Wolves, my September release! Fans of Black Kat begged me for another hockey novel, so here it is!
Verona Wolves is a Sport’s Comedy, so it’s nothing heavy like my horror/romance series like CK and Nightwalkers. Below are the blurb and specs for the book. There’s a sequel, but we’ll throw that one’s name out there after this wolf gets its claws in.
Verona Wolves: Firebird Series Book #1
- Release Date: September 1st, 2020
- Genre: Sports (hockey), Comedy
- Word Count: 68 K
- Book Blurb: When an accident takes the lives of her mother and step-father, Sophie moves to Verona to care for her brother, Christopher. Sophie struggles to connect with him, but can’t find common ground. Obsessed with anything hockey, its Christopher’s greatest passion and will help her get closer to him. She finds an ally in Firebird Callahan, the loud-mouthed center for the Verona Wolves. Not only does Callahan school her on hockey, he gives her the cringe-worthy nickname, Mistletoe.
In the beginning, I referred to this project as “Mistletoe”, and it was supposed to be a novella. I changed the storyline in the spring and rewrote it into a series. The temporary title didn’t fit, so I went with Callahan’s team name, the Verona Wolves. FYI: Mistletoe is the nickname Callahan gives Sophie after she falls for his mistletoe prank. The other Wolves call her that, though they shorten it to “Missy”.
“Just so you know,” he gave his answer with a chuckle. “All the city stuff is at the rink across the street.” He pointed to his right. “This is the Wolves arena, so technically, you’re not supposed to be in here. I don’t even know how you got in here without a key.”
-Hunter “Firebird” Callahan
Verona Wolves Ice Arena
When Sophie opened the door to the main arena, she peeked inside. They dimmed the lights, and a Zamboni made runs over the ice.
Massive, the stands held thousands, and they covered the walls with screens and advertisements.
Sighing, she realized this wasn’t the place. This was the arena for the Verona Wolves, a team part of World League Hockey.
Annoyed with herself, she backtracked.
There must be a hallway leading to the public rink. The ramp’s directions led her here and there wasn’t another rink on the street, so it was close.
Frustrated and fretting about not getting to Christopher in time, she trotted through the halls searching for it.
Weighted down, she toted a bag with her tablet and work materials in it, a zip-up hoodie over her arm, and Christopher’s hockey stick. She wore Christopher’s Pup’s T-shirt, but it was tighter than she predicted, and her amble breasts stretched the logo.
The long necklaces and bangles she wore didn’t match her casual shirt, and either did her black jeggings and tall boots.
When she fled the house, she took off her blouse and forced the tee over her tank. It was a splendid idea to cheer him on, but now she wished she didn’t do it. She looked silly.
Her phone sounded off with a text.
Sophie tucked the stick under her arm to read the note from her boss. Distracted, her attention glued to her cell as she typed and walked to her destination. She banged into the wall a few times, and paused near an intersection to complete it.
Sophie tried to finish fast and concentrate on finding Christopher. She didn’t have time for this, and it showed in her stiff jaw and thinned lips.
A man dashed around the corner and knocked into her. The impact slammed her into the concrete wall.
Shrieking when she landed on her brother’s stick, Sophie’s back burned. She gritted her teeth as she hissed, pain running down her spine.
She dropped the stick, and it fell to the floor.
The man startled and ripped off his headphones. He held a phone, and it appeared to be an accident.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” Apologetic, he spoke with a quick tongue.
He slung a duffle bag over his shoulder and wore a tight black long-sleeved shirt and loose track pants.
“You all right?” He shoved his earphones and cell into his sack.
“What are you composed of? Concrete?” Sophie pressed her lips together, her jaw rigid as she groaned and rubbed her back.
She spoke under her breath in Italian, “Hard as rock.”
As she readjusted the strap on her bag over her shoulder, she checked the floor for the stick.
“Shit, I’m told.” He smoothed his wet reddish-blond hair as he sought to make a joke.
When she went for the stick, he swept it up before she did.
“Must be coprolite, because it really hurt,” she replied in a whiney tone as she ripped the hockey stick from him with a swift hand.
“Corpro what?” Still in a stupor, he gawked at her with a vacant expression.