Saturday, February 25, 2017

*~Blog Tour: Hot On Ice Anthology~*


Coming March 21!

Learn more about Home for Our Troops here: https://www.hfotusa.org/ 

About Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology…
The New Orleans Cajun Rage professional hockey team just won the Cup. No one thought they’d do it. They were a team of shoulda beens, never coulda beens and a star or two. They’d only been in the Crescent City for three years before this year’s Cinderella run that had them skating off the ice with the championship. Over the following summer, each player gets to keep the Cup for a day. Nobody knows why, but whoever has the Cup falls in love. USA Today bestsellers Robin Covington, Desiree Holt, Kimberly Kincaid, Nana Malone, and Virginia Nelson, Publisher’s Weekly bestseller Angi Morgan, along with Xio Axelrod, Christi Barth, Andie J. Christopher, Avery Flynn, Kim Golden, Lena Hart, Robin Kaye, Katie Kenyhercz, Heather Long, Kate Meader, Susan Scott Shelley, and Misty D. Waters bring you 18 romances with smoking hot heroes—both on and off the ice.



Pre-order now on…

Read more about the stories in Hot on Ice: http://bit.ly/2h6k2cH
Add us to your Goodreads shelf: http://bit.ly/2ggRF8e
Like us on our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/HotOnIce/ 



Excerpt:


"Mariam?" 
Saying her name again after all these years took Jonas Magnussen back to those desperate days of longing. Would she even remember him? 
"Just a second." She reached for her suitcase without looking over her shoulder to see who'd addressed her. She gave it a tug, but it was too heavy for her to budge. Jonas rushed forward then, ignoring the quizzical looks of his minders who were only interested in making sure the Cup made it to its destination without any incident, or the star struck fans lingering by the baggage belt. He grabbed hold of the handle before the bag got too far and lugged it off the belt. Wow, it was heavy. How much had she packed? He extended the handle and set the bag on its wheels, then brought it over to her. His shoulder complained at the exertion, but he ignored it. He waited for her to look up now from her handbag...
Anything for a few moments with her. 
Ten years may have gone by since the last time he'd seen her, but he was certain it was her. It had to be her. Why else would just a glimpse of her jolt him so much? And the voice...it hadn't changed. He missed how she pronounced his name...a little of her Eritrean accent still tinging some of her words even after so many years of living in Sweden. All those years ago, when she'd sleepily whisper his name as though she were still caught between dreams. He'd dated so many women since then and none of them had made him feel so...undone.
Around them, other passengers streamed into the reclaim area. Some took stole looks at Jonas. He was used to it now, but sometimes he longed for the old days when he was just another hockey player and not the Iceman. 
He shielded her too from the photographers waiting to get shots of him and shushed Edwin Motz, the Keeper of the Cup who was rattling off a list of things for Jonas to remember. None of that mattered--not if this really was Mariam Kidane standing before him. 
She finally stopped searching her leather handbag and looked up, already thanking him without really seeing him. He smiled at her and she stopped mid-sentence. He said her name again, this time using her full name. She flicked a glance at him and then he heard it--the quick gasp of recognition. 
"Oh my God—it's you! Oh my God, Jonas..." Mariam's voice trailed off and she pressed herfull lips together. The sleek mane of dark hair was new to him. Jonas always remembered her with her wild, natural curls spiraling in every direction and her constant exasperation that her hair never did what she wanted it to do. Mariam Zadik Kidane hadn't changed. 
No, that wasn't really true. Mariam had changed, but he would have recognized her anywhere. His heart was already beating much too fast, anxiously waiting for her to make the next move. She took a step forward, then hesitated. Jonas too hesitated--should they hug? Shake hands? What was the protocol now for meeting the woman you'd always loved but who left you to pursue her own dreams? 
They both took the easy, more Swedish route: they nodded and smiled without saying anything. But there was something more. Jonas felt the charge in the air between them. Anyone watching them had to know that this was no ordinary meeting. 
Mariam's lips still looked as kissable as he remembered and those impossibly dark brown eyes that sometimes looked more like ebony... oh, she was still so out of his league, how had he ever held onto her before? Jonas muttered a swear word and shook his head. Here he was--all 6'1" and 195 pounds of pure muscle--and a look and a smile from Mariam still left him as tongue-tied as he'd been that first time he saw her when he was nothing but a sixteen-year-old with major league hockey dreams.
"Are you bringing the Cup home?" Mariam adjusted her bag on her shoulder. The blouse she wore left 
He nodded. "It's part of the tour. I get it for one day, and then we deliver it to the next playerin line.
"You really did it."
"Yeah, I guess I did." He still wasn't used to talking about the big win. It still felt unreal--that the Cajuns were the reigning champs now, that he even played a part in helping to bring the cup to New Orleans. "Never really thought it would happen."
Behind them, the baggage reclaim area was beginning to fill. Passengers from the Oslo and Göteborg flights wandered into the hall, searching for their baggage belt. Someone shouted "Iceman!" Jonas kept his cool. It wasn't before smart phones were raised, snapping pictures of him that he knew would end up on Facebook and Instagram. 
"It's great to see you again." 
"You too... we should catch up." The words tumbled out before he could stop them. It was what he wanted to say, but saying them felt so clichéd. He'd heard his teammates say it too often to people they weren't interested in. But he wanted to catch up with her. It had been too long, and they'd both been too young, too headstrong.

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