Blogging From the Heart: A Romance Novella by Mona Ingram
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NOTE: this book was previously released as Between a Jock and a Hard Place.
Even
though she's surrounded by hockey-crazed family and friends, Claire
doesn't follow the Vancouver Canucks. Her brother has played hockey all
of his life and has a promising career in the minors, but that's as far
as her interest goes. So when she meets a large, handsome man with a
broken nose she doesn't recognize him as a key player for the Canucks.
Jack
is intrigued with the notion of getting to know a woman who doesn't
know who he is; someone who isn't attracted to him because of his fame.
When
Claire's brother Cam is injured in a hockey game, she offers to blog
anonymously for a local newspaper about the hot-button topic violence in
hockey, unaware that Jack will be presenting the opposing view.
Meanwhile,
the attraction grows between Claire and Jack, but can they survive the
inevitable clash as they discover each other's true identity?
Blogging From the Heart is a novella-length Sweet Romance, at slightly over 25,000 words.
Excerpt
from Blogging From the Heart
Set-up:
Claire’s twin brother, a hockey player, has been injured in a game
and she has agreed to blog about violence in hockey for a local
Vancouver newspaper.
Her
opening salvo was critical. She may not be an experienced writer, but
she knew that she had to grab the reader’s attention with her first
sentence. With a groan of frustration she got up and walked to the
window. The sun had burned off the morning mist and the ocean
glittered with reflected sunshine. Maybe what she needed was a walk
to clear her head. Just a short walk along the seawall and then she’d
come back inspired and make a fresh start.
It
was sunny but cool. She pulled on a turtle neck sweater, a pair of
sweats and a fleece jacket. Her oldest, most comfortable walkers
completed the outfit.
It
seemed as though half the population of the West End had decided on a
walk, but that didn’t surprise her. Vancouverites knew enough to
take advantage of days like this. Who knew when the next one would
come around? The constant hum of traffic faded into the background as
she made her way along the seawall, past the yacht basin. Seagulls
swirled overhead, their cries blending with the clink of rigging
against metal masts. She smiled and walked closer to the railing. If
Zoey were here, she’d be on her case for checking out the boats
instead of the men jogging past. She glanced out of the corner of her
eye. Especially
that one.
She couldn’t see his face very well, hidden as it was by a hoodie,
but he was tall, broad-shouldered, and moved like an athlete.
Forget
it,
she told herself as he jogged past. I’m
not interested in him or any other man.
So
why had her heart ratcheted up at the sight of him?
You’re
pathetic
she told herself and pushed away from the railing to continue her
walk.
She
didn’t see it coming...literally. One moment she was walking along,
trying to focus on the blog and the next she was sprawled on the
pavement.
The
biker stopped, but remained on his bike. “Hey, you should watch
where you’re going,” he said angrily.
“Me?
Look who’s talking. You’re not supposed to be riding a bike along
here.” She pulled herself up into a sitting position. “There are
bike lanes for people like you.”
“Get
a life, bitch.” He pushed off and rode away.
Claire
shook her head in disbelief. “Stupid ass,” she muttered.
“May
I offer you a hand, or would that make me a stupid ass too?”
She
looked up to see the man in the black hoodie. He had his hand out but
it was his face she was drawn to. How could someone be so appealing
when their nose had obviously been broken? His smile was dazzling.
“Come on” he said, wiggling his fingers. “At least let me help
you up.”
She
placed her hand in his and a jolt of electricity zinged through her
body. The sensation was so unexpected she didn’t even notice the
pain in her ankle. That is, until she put her weight on it and almost
collapsed. He caught her in his arms and looked down into her eyes,
his expression a mixture of surprise and concern.
“You’re
hurt,” he said, still holding her.
Claire
wanted to tell him that if he kissed her, she was pretty sure the
pain would disappear. Instead, she pulled back and put her weight on
her good foot. “I must have fallen on it” she said, somewhat
breathlessly, “but it’s not all that bad.” She looked back
toward her apartment building; she could see a slice of it between
the other buildings. “I can put my weight on it if I try.”
“Let
me take you home,” he said, supporting her easily. “My car is
over there in the parking lot.”
She
frowned. “Isn’t that a private lot?”
He
grinned. “Yes. Lucky for us, huh?” He kept an arm around her
waist and they made their way to his SUV, where he fussed over her,
settling her in the passenger seat.
He’d
pushed back the hood of his sweatshirt and when he walked in front of
the vehicle, the sun caught his hair. So black it was almost blue, it
covered his head in curls and her fingers tensed as she imagined
herself touching it. He looked up as though he knew she’d been
studying him and their gazes met though the windshield. Rough stubble
covered his cheeks and she discovered that his eyes, which she’d
originally thought were black, were a dark blue. She didn’t think
she’d ever seen anyone with eyes that colour.
He
got into the vehicle and turned to her. “Do you have to go right
home?”
“No,
I thought I’d go dancing.” The words were out before she could
stop them. What was the matter with her? “Sorry,” she muttered.
“I don’t know what made me say that.”
He
didn’t seem to mind. “I’m just relieved that we don’t have to
go dancing,” he said with a wry smile. “But if your ankle really
isn’t too bad I thought maybe we could go for a coffee.” He
looked into her eyes and her stomach did a little flip. “Or a tea,
perhaps. We could drive up to Prospect Point and grab some takeout
then continue around the park.”
Was
he crazy to think she’d go off with him? She couldn’t possibly.
“Okay,”
she said. “I’d like that.”
He
smiled and pulled out. Traffic through the park was busy as usual and
they were swept along. A few minutes later he pulled into the parking
lot at Prospect Point. “What can I get you?” he asked.
“A
tea, I think. Two milk, no sugar. And something to nibble on if they
have anything small. Chocolate chip cookie or something like that.”
She dug in her purse. “I’d like to pay, if you don’t mind.”
He
gave her an odd look. “No way.”
She
gave in gracefully. “Shall I limp over to one of those tables?”
He
glanced at the outdoor tables. “I’d rather stop farther along.
There are a couple of picnic tables overlooking the water.” He
lifted his shoulders. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
“I
guess that’s okay.” She studied him as he made his way to the
counter. The line-up moved quickly, and she noticed him chatting to
several people as he waited. One woman seemed to be taking his
picture with her husband, and then he took their picture. And then
another couple got in on the act. Pictures were being taken all
around. He came back bearing a cardboard tray with two cups and a
couple of snacks.
“Were
those people taking your picture?” she asked.
He
coloured. “You saw that, did you? I offered to take one of them
together and then everybody was taking everyone else. They were
Swedes, I think. They’re polite people.” He handed her the tray.
“No cookies, I’m afraid. But I got you a Rice Krispie square and
a package of Twinkies.”
“My
favourites,” she said. “Do I have to share?”
“Not
really” he said, “although I am rather partial to Twinkies and
there are two in the package.”
Claire
fell silent as they drove around the knob of land that was Stanley
Park. His actions were vaguely reminiscent of Harrison’s. He’d
never wanted to go where there were crowds of people. It wasn’t
until later that she’d realized that he didn’t want to be seen by
anyone who knew his wife.
“Penny
for your thoughts.”
Startled
out of her reverie, she turned to face him. She couldn’t ask him
point blank...could she?
“I
was just wondering if you’re married.” Might as well get it over
with.
“Me?”
A horrified look spread over his face. “Definitely not!”
The
reply was so emphatic it had to be the truth. She smiled to herself.
“I apologize for asking such a personal question, but when you said
you didn’t want to stay at Prospect Point it reminded me of
someone.” She lowered her head. “Wow, I’ve really dug myself a
hole, haven’t I?”
She
could feel him looking at her but he remained silent.
“I
had a bad experience with a married man. He never wanted to go
anywhere if he thought he might run into people.” She looked out
the window. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”
He
nodded. “I can see how something like that would make you cautious,
but no, I can assure you I’m not married.” He pulled off into a
small parking lot. “See that picnic table over there?” He pointed
to a table sheltered by a thick hedge, but with a view of the ocean.
“Do you think you can make it that far? I’ll carry the drinks
over and come back for you.” He didn’t wait for her reply but
took the tray from her and walked it over to the table.
“Okay
now, we’ll take this part nice and easy.” He helped her from the
vehicle and they made their way to the table. “Sit sideways and put
your leg up on the bench,” he commanded. “I want to take a look
at that ankle.”
Claire
was mortified by the condition of her old shoes, but she raised her
leg.
“Can’t
see much,” he muttered. “Do you mind if I take off your shoe?”
She
went to pull back, but he had a firm hold on her calf. “I really
should have a look.”
She
watched his hands as he rotated her foot gently back and forth. They
were large as befitted a man of his size. And yet they were gentle as
he prodded around her ankle. “Sore?”
“A
bit, but not as bad as it was.”
He
slipped her shoe back on, pulled up her sock and tied her shoe laces.
His hair shone in the sunshine and she wanted to reach out and touch
it.
His
hand lingered for a moment. “Do you have to stand up when you
work?”
“No,
I’m a graphic designer. I work from home.”
His
eyes lit up. “My kid sister’s a graphic designer. She works for a
magazine in Toronto.” He got up from the bench and moved around to
the other side of the table. “My name’s John, by the way.” He
popped the lid on his tea and took a sip, watching her over the rim.
“I’m
Claire.”
He’d
positioned her so that she looked out over the ocean. Container ships
dotted the horizon. “I don’t know what it is about the ocean, but
I love it.”
“Me,
too.” He turned and looked out, then turned back to her. “I grew
up in Saskatchewan, so living out here is a real treat.”
“The
way you were talking with all those people at the coffee place I
thought maybe you’d grown up around here.”
He
retreated into himself for a moment and then shrugged. “Just
friendly chit chat.”
There
was something about the way he spoke, but she couldn’t quite put
her finger on it. “Here,” she said, pushing the Twinkies across
the table. “You have the Twinkies and I’ll have the Rice Krispie
square. That is unless you’d like to share.”
His
eyes danced. “Sharing’s good.”
She
tore the sticky treat in half and accepted one of the Twinkies. “So,
John. What made you move from Saskatchewan to Vancouver?”
“Work.”
He took a large bite of Twinkie.
“What
kind of work?”
He
swallowed, and washed it down with a gulp of tea. “I sell sporting
equipment.”
“Do
you like it?”
“I
do, except for all the travel.”
“So
you travel a lot?” She stopped abruptly. “You know, I’m
beginning to sound like I’m at one of those speed dating things.”
“Is
that what this is?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “A date?”
“No,
not at all.” Now she was getting flustered. “Listen, I’m not
usually this nosy, trust me. Do you think I could blame it on the
ankle?”
There
was that smile again. “You could try.” He raised his cup and took
a smaller sip this time. “How about you? Are you from around here?”
“Oh
yeah. I’m a Vancouver girl. Grew up in West Vancouver.”
“Family?”
“I
have a twin brother.” Her thoughts turned to Cam, who’d been
discharged from hospital yesterday. He’d agreed to spend a week
with their parents but she knew he wouldn’t last much longer than
that. He’d been living on his own too long and was set in his
bachelor ways.
“A
twin. Wow. Is it true what they say? Do you like the same things?”
She
thought for a moment before replying. “We have the same quirky
sense of humour, and we’re both a little stubborn, but I don’t
share his main passion.”
“And
what’s that?”
“Hockey.”
He
pulled back as though personally offended. “You don’t like
hockey?”
“You
see?” She edged forward on the bench. “That’s exactly what I’ve
been up against my whole life. My brother was skating as soon as he
could walk and my Dad was one of those hockey parents who supported
him every inch of the way. He loves the sport. It’s the main topic
of conversation in our house all year round.”
She
was coming dangerously close to spilling the beans about Cam, and his
injury. But she couldn’t risk anyone connecting her with the
blog...not if she was to maintain her anonymity.
“So
you hate the game? Do you ever watch?”
“I
didn’t say I hate it. I’m just up to here with it.” She tapped
herself under the chin. “Although I have been known to go to sports
bars once in a while. With my girlfriend and her fiancé, not on my
own.” She paused. “But even then, I don’t watch. Do you ever go
to sports bars?”
He
looked amused. “No.” It came out slowly.
She
leaned forward again. “Did you know that even the women dress up in
those ridiculous Canucks shirts? As a matter of fact I’ve heard
that they sell as many to women as they do to the men.”
He
seemed to be trying not to smile. “Yes, I’ve heard that too.”
They
were both silent for a few moments. It felt comfortable, sitting here
with him in the sunshine. She wished it could go on forever.
Claire
was the first to break the silence. “Could I ask you something?”
He
nodded. She liked the fact that he didn’t always need to speak.
“Do
you think there’s too much violence in hockey?”
Something
shifted behind his eyes. “That’s a hot topic right now.” He
looked into his cup, tossed out the remaining liquid and crumpled it
in one large hand. “Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s one
clear-cut answer. To lump every situation together under the umbrella
of violence doesn’t do justice to the individual cases.”
She
snorted. “That sounds like some sort of a slick, prepared
statement.”
Was
that a flash of anger in his eyes? He placed both forearms on the
table. “I will admit I’ve thought a lot about it. After all, I am
closely connected with the industry.” His gaze held hers. “I’ll
tell you what’s violent. A little over a week ago, a young player
from the minor leagues suffered a late hit. The latest news is that
he’ll be out for the rest of the year. Now I call that violent.”
Claire
sucked in a breath of air but he didn’t seem to notice. He was on a
roll.
“Hockey
is a physical game; that’s all there is to it. There are body
checks, and there is fighting. The players egg each other on with
what they call ‘trash talk’ and fights are inevitable, sometimes
even planned. If you’d watch a game you’d see the fans come alive
when there’s a fight. Even the players seem to approve. During a
fight you’ll see both teams standing up pounding their sticks
against the boards.” He sat back, seemed to deflate a little.
“That’s the reality of the game. I’m not saying I approve, but
that’s the way it is.”
“But
not all of the players fight. Tony was saying the other night that
Daniel and Henrik hardly ever fight. Why is that?”
He
looked exasperated. “Because the Sedins are too valuable. We... The
Canucks, that is, can’t afford to have them out of the line-up.
That’s why teams hire defencemen with muscle. There’s always at
least one ‘enforcer’ on a hockey team. Hit our top scorers, we’ll
hit you back harder. That sort of thing.”
Claire
considered his words. “I suppose I knew that, but it’s never been
explained to me quite that well. Not that you’ve changed my mind
about the fighting. I still don’t like that part of the game.”
“Who’s
Tony?” He was toying with the scrunched-up cup.
“Huh?”
the abrupt change of topic startled her. “Oh, Tony. That’s Zoey’s
fiancé.”
He
nodded. “And Zoey is your friend?” One side of his mouth hiked
up. “I like to keep the line-up straight in my head.”
“Yes,
she’s my friend.” Claire was relieved to see him smile. “So how
did you get that broken nose?”
He
fingered the break. “You’re going to love this. Hockey.” He
held up a hand before she could say anything. “I ran into my best
buddy’s stick.” He touched it again and he smiled, reliving the
moment. “I can still hear the sound it made. Anyway, my parents
were away and I insisted that it wasn’t too bad, that I could tape
it up myself.” He grinned. “Well, you can see what a great job I
did.”
Claire
tilted her head to one side. “I dunno. I kind of like it.”
“Sure
you do.”
“Yeah,
I do,” she said, suddenly breathless. She made a show of looking at
her watch. “Guess I’d better get home. I have work to do. I just
went out for a quick walk to clear my head.” She was babbling, but
couldn’t seem to stop.
“Before
we leave could I ask you a question?” He grinned. “Since we’re
telling our life stories.”
“Is
that what we’re doing?” She wished he wasn’t so damned good
looking; he had her at a disadvantage. “You can ask. I’m not sure
if I’ll answer.”
He
acknowledged by raising his eyebrows. “I was wondering about that
married man.”
She
looked at him for a long time before she decided to answer. She’d
brought it up, after all.
“It’s
embarrassing.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I didn’t know he
was married when I first met him. He told me a couple of weeks later,
but he also told me a pack of lies.”
“Seems
to me he’s the one who should be embarrassed, not you.”
She
shot him a quick glance, and then looked away again. “No, I’m
embarrassed because I believed him when he told me he was getting a
divorce. It’s only the oldest line in the world, but I swallowed
it.” She ran her fingernail up and down the Styrofoam cup, making a
pattern of ridges. “When I saw him with his wife and realized that
they were still very much together I thought I’d never be able to
trust a man again.” She looked into his eyes. “It’s been hard.”
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