BLURB
It only takes one bad apple to ruin the bunch. When life hands me reformed hockey star Noah Beaumont, AGAIN, am I supposed to make cider or is there a sweeter surprise in store?
Willa: I never wanted to see Noah Beaumont again. EVER. When I kicked him off my set after he showed up intoxicated, his PR team tried to blacklist me. I made it over that hurdle, made a name for myself, and I’m heading to Maple Falls to cover a charity ice hockey team that’s making headlines…only to find out I have to work with HIM.
But this Noah seems different. He’s reformed and seems to be determined to show me he’s changed. Can I trust him, or will he be the same disaster I remember?
Noah: I’ve spent years trying to make amends for my past mistakes, questioning if I still belong in the world of hockey or if it’s time to step back, be ‘normal’. But seeing Willa again brings everything into sharp focus. She’s the woman who’s haunted my thoughts since the day I met her.
Now, she’s here in Maple Falls, and I’m determined to prove I’m not the same man she remembers. I want her to see the real me, the man I’ve worked so hard to become. Can I convince her to give me a second chance?
Penalties and Proposals is part of the Love on Thin Ice sweet small town hockey romcom series. It’s a second chance enemies to lovers story with forced proximity in this small town romance with all the sizzle and chemistry, but none of the spice.
Content warning: This IS a lighthearted and fun romantic comedy, but there are subjects mentioned in this book like parents passing away and former substance abuse.
EXCERPT:
“Is this the only table you have available?”
My eyes cannot be deceiving me. I’m standing in a restaurant with no one else in it, save another couple at the opposite end of the room. Surely the only table they have for me to sit at is not the one that happens to be directly beside Noah? Not to mention the fact the place is small enough I’d practically be sitting at his table anyway, the tables are that close to one another.
The young girl looks at me woefully. “I’m really sorry, but we’re full with reservations tonight.” Her tone is apologetic, and she’s young, so I’m not going to debate the situation … but still. The odds. I flex my hands, stretch my fingers, and take a deep breath, trying to fight back my irritation when I see a sliver of my tattoo under my sleeve.
Believe. Ha. I almost snort out loud. How about I believe I’m Harry Potter and I cast a quick spell to time travel to another restaurant in another town altogether?
“What about the bar?” I nod my head toward the old wooden bar where an older woman is busy making drinks and watching me through narrowed eyes. “Looks like there’s space there.”
“Our bartender isn’t on duty for another hour.” When I shoot her a questioning look, obviously confused by the woman pouring herself a soda from the beverage gun, the young girl stammers. “I’ve been asked to not have anyone sit there until his shift begins.”
So this fact leaves me to be seated by the blight that plagues me. Yes, I’m being ridiculously overdramatic, but the thought of chewing my dinner and having to stare at Noah, or work hard to look anywhere in this room besides at Noah, turns me off in the biggest way. Like a light switch after a big night out. I didn’t go to that party tonight because I wanted some time alone, time to myself to plan out the schedule I need to juggle in the days ahead.
“Fine,” I say with a sigh, pulling out my notebook and phone. When I look Noah’s way, he’s watching me, his expression frozen. I can’t read him, but he could be as weirded out that I’m about to be seated beside him as I am. I’ll save us both the trouble. I pick the chair where my back will be facing him and pull it out and settle in.
The hostess hands me the menu and asks for a drink order before she disappears from sight. I make a mental note to apologize to her. Poor thing. It’s not her fault she’s seated me next to the devil.
“Hi, Willa.” Of course his voice is like hot chocolate. The devil’s would be velvety and delicious. My instincts tell me to ignore him, but I’m here to work. I can hear my mom’s voice in the back of my mind telling me to play nice.
I pick up the menu and fake peruse it. Fake because of course I can’t think about anything else right now except that he’s right there.
“Hello, Noah. Fancy running into you at dinner.”
“A man’s gotta eat,” he responds.
“No doubt, but when I heard about the party happening in town tonight, I figured you’d be the first one signed up to be there.” I flip a page of the menu a little more aggressively than intended and manage to rip it a tiny bit. Must. Breathe.
“Contrary to past reports, I’m not the guy who goes to all the parties any longer.”
I want to turn around and face him, see the look on his face, but the stubborn part of me refuses. He’s the one who is engaging me; I can only imagine that eventually my lack of wanting to chat will catch on and he’ll focus on something else.
“So, you’re telling me a leopard can change his spots. That’s nice,” I manage to say, doubt dripping with each word. Holding my menu up in the air for him to see. “But, the jury’s still out as far as I’m concerned. If you’ll excuse me, I need to decide on my meal.”
There’s a pause before he answers. “Of course, sorry. I’ll leave you to it.”
A weight slides off my shoulders. Was it really that easy? I decide it has to be and go about choosing my meal, landing on the lasagna, then turning my attention to my notebook. This was to be a planning session for Noah’s photos amongst other work, and I intend to stay focused, even if he is right behind me and I can hear him breathing.
Author Info
Anne Kemp is a bestselling author of romantic comedies. She loves reading (and she does it ridiculously fast, too!), gluten-free baking (because everyone needs a hobby that makes them crazy), and finding time to binge-watch her favorite shows. She grew up in Maryland but made Los Angeles her home until she encountered her own real-life meet-cute at a friend's wedding where she ended up married to one of the groomsmen. For real.
Anne now lives on the Kapiti Coast in New Zealand, and even though she was married at Mt. Doom, no…she doesn’t have a Hobbit. However, she and her husband do have a terrier named George Clooney and when she’s not writing, she’s usually with them taking a long walk on the river by their home.
You can find Anne on her website - come say hi! She’d love to hear from you: www.annekemp.com
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