Playing to win means playing dirty...
Holly Evans is intelligent, educated and crazy about sports—so how did she end up prancing about in a miniskirt and teasing her hair like some broadcasting bimbo? Of course, since she’s already iced her journalistic integrity, Holly might as well indulge in a little fangirl lust for the ripped captain of Portland’s hockey team.
Luke Maguire sees right through Holly’s bunny disguise, and he’s ready to pull her into the locker room and strip it all off. Then Holly discovers someone on the team is profiting from a little over/under betting. Suddenly her lusting for Luke is going head-to-head with her reporting instincts. And if she’s caught offside, there’s no telling what the penalty will be...
“I’m sure you know more than you’re letting on...
“I’m going to figure out what you’re doing here and I’m going to expose you.”
Jeez. Everything sounded sexual when he was standing this close. She upped the ante and took a half step closer to him. She definitely wasn’t going to let him intimidate her in this sexy game of cat and mouse.
“You can try, but there’s nothing to expose. What you see is what you get.”
“Oh, I very much doubt that, Ms. Evans. The truth is hiding somewhere behind that big hair and tiny suit.”
“Look at me, Mr. Maguire. You honestly think there’s room to hide anything under this?”
Her breath stuttered at the sudden fierceness in his eyes, the predatory gleam that pinned her in place. Were their lips getting closer because he was leaning in, or had she swayed toward him?
She was drawn to his body, hard as iron and just as magnetic. Her fingers brushed his biceps as his hands made first contact with her waist and his lips moved closer, then closer still...
I usually don’t remember how ideas get from my brain to the page, but this novel’s origin story can be traced back to a cold, snowy evening while watching Hockey Night in Canada. (What? A Canadian who likes hockey? It’s true. I’m also a woman with way too many pairs of shoes. Embracing clichés is good for the soul, eh?)
At one point in the game, the TV announcer was talking about a defenseman and actually said, I kid you not, “He’s a big, strong farm boy with good hands.”
Um...yes please! I’ll take one of those.
And the Women’s Hockey Network was born. My friend and I joked endlessly about Sexy Sports Coverage for Her, complete with play-off beard analysis (“As you can see from this graph, peak attractiveness was reached here, when he was sporting six days’ worth of stubble in game three of the first series.”), and some risqué, double-entendre commentating (“I really admire the way he keeps such a firm grip on his stick. That kind of control is going to result in some great scoring opportunities.”).
Our inside joke was a romance novel waiting to happen, and Luke and Holly were the perfect duo for the job. They’re both incredibly career-focused, and it was a blast to bodycheck them out of their comfort zones and into each other’s arms.
By the way, do you like the internet? I hang out there sometimes at tarynleightaylor.com, facebook.com/tarynltaylor1 and on Twitter @tarynltaylor. You should totally swing by if you’re in the neighborhood.
Keep on dreaming out loud,
Taryn Leigh Taylor
Playing to Win
Taryn Leigh Taylor
TARYN LEIGH TAYLOR likes dinosaurs, bridges and space, both personal and of the final-frontier variety. She shamelessly indulges in clichés, most notably her Starbucks addiction (grande six-pump whole-milk no-water chai tea latte, aka: the usual), her shoe hoard (I can stop anytime I... Ooh! These are pretty!) and her penchant for falling in lust with fictional men with great abs. She also really loves books, which is what sent her down the crazy path of writing one in the first place.
Want to be virtual friends? Check out tarynleightaylor.com, facebook.com/tarynltaylor1 and twitter.com/tarynltaylor.
This one’s for my Women’s Hockey Network cohost, and the best amanuensis in the business. Cool Crystal, I owe you a slab of cake with a cupcake on top.
To Adrienne, who always makes my stories better. I don’t have the words to thank you enough. (But editors like irony, right?)
My love forever to Uncle Don and Auntie Shirl for keeping it real and staying true to the home team amidst a sea of red.
Mimsy, Dadoo and the man behind Grammataco—I’m so lucky to have you guys in my corner. High fives and secret handshakes all around.
And to my Palisades Crew: Michele, Michelle, Lori, Carolyne, Marilyn and Laura. The kind of women, and writers, who inspire me even now.
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