Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion
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Puzzler: 22 November 2021
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Hello everyone! Sorry I have been missing in action! Had Family illness and work was hectic! Finally able to return and actually read! Now...I don't think I know this one. Sounds interesting!
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Fun excerpt! Looking forward to finding out the names of R-Team and K-Team.
the book is Mama's Boy by Avery Flynn and it is book 1 in a new trilogy where three cousins make a bet and the last man standing not in love wins the present their grandma left them.... they are fun! Book 1 and 2 are out and book 3 comes out soon.
I really enjoyed this book which is the first in a trilogy!
This scene made me giggle!
xxx
Heroine walked through the door and into one of the season-ticket-holder suites. She should have realized that Hero wouldn’t be the type to sit among the regular fans, yelling about bad calls and illegal hits. Too common for him, no doubt. The fact that his suite was behind an unmarked door was an added layer of weird rich dude, though.
Straight ahead as she walked in was an area of ten cushioned seats bearing the Ice K-Team logo. Technically, the seats were smack dab in the middle of the regular arena seats, but they were cordoned off behind a waist-high plexiglass fence so the only access to them was from the suite.
To the right of the door was a bar with a bartender, a buffet table filled with a ton of delicious-looking food, and an ice sculpture of—
“Oh, good. I was beginning to worry,” Hero said as he poured an ungodly fabulous amount of nacho cheese over his tortilla chips. That wasn’t what stopped her dead in her tracks, though; made her press her palm to her chest; and forced a gasp of horror from her lungs.
No.
This couldn’t be.
But it was. It really, really was.
She looked closer at her surroundings, her stomach feeling worse with each heartbeat. The ice sculpture in the middle of the buffet table surrounded by pigs in a blanket, oversize German pretzels, and sliders was of a hockey puck with Go R-Team etched into the center and the final score of the last rivalry game they’d played when the R-Team had swept the ice with the K-Team. Obviously that was because of shitty call after shitty call. That was bad.
Even worse (as if that were possible?), Hero was wearing head-to-toe maroon and gold.
“What in the hell are you wearing?” she asked.
Hero shot her a shit-eating grin. “My Player name jersey.”
“On purpose?” The horror of it all. “To a K-Team game?”
“In this suite”—he popped a nacho into his mouth and crunched it—“it’s a CR-Team game, and I only attend when I can watch my R-Team destroy the K-Team.”
She was going to puke. It was just too awful. “I can’t do this.”
“I don’t blame you,” Hero said. “Wearing that symbol of mediocrity has got to be painful.”
Oh no he didn’t. He. Did. Not. Her back up and fire just about to shoot out of her fingertips—all aimed at one obnoxious R-Team fan in particular—she squared her shoulders. No one did the K-Team like that, especially not in their own house.
“Take it back,” she said through gritted teeth. He let loose with a snarky chuckle that managed to be patronizing and defiant at the same time.
“Not on your life.”
Oooohhhhhhh! She fisted and loosened her hands a million times. The security guard’s warning sat on one of her shoulders and her Surname temper on the other. This man was the worst. The absolute, without-a-doubt, couldn’t-be-worser (yeah, she was a teacher and knew that wasn’t a word, but these were trying times) human being of all time. And he had a lot of competition for that title!
But still, violence—as she told her third graders—was never the solution. The truth of it was that she was here, not because of the man in a hideous jersey that he actually almost made look good—broad shoulders really were a sight to behold in a hockey sweater—but for her nana.
She was on a mission, and this piece of work was not going to dissuade her from helping Nana realize her dreams. She let out a cleansing breath, counted to a bazillion, and made her way over to the buffet table, ready to utilize melted cheese and potato skins for their medicinal properties.
“I’m beginning to understand why you had to find a date as an experiment,” she grumbled.
He held up a platter of wings. “Mild or burn the roof of your mouth off?” As the fifth of seven kids, she knew a challenge when one was offered. Well, she wasn’t about to back down—no pretending to be Fallon needed.
“I like it hot.”
“You sure?” He turned the platter so that the bright-red wings were facing her. “These aren’t made for the timid.”
She grabbed a wing, sent up a quick prayer for her tongue, and took a bite. They were sweet chili pepper and wouldn’t have made a baby cry. Hero winked at her. “Gotcha.”
That. Loathsome. Man. UGH. She couldn’t wait to watch him lose it when the K-Team pounded the R-Team into oblivion while his stupid ice puck melted.