by Victoria Denault

Release Date: February 15, 2021

What if Romeo wore hockey skates, and Juliet was raised on a farm next door?

As a life-long Vermonter, there are three beliefs I’ve always held true:

1.     Our family farm is everything
2. Hockey is a close second
3. The Todds next door are our sworn enemies

But this season will test everything I stand for. 

I have an illicit side job that could cost me my hockey scholarship. And now Maggie Todd knows my secret. She’s waiting for the right moment to use it against me. But every time I face off against her, I learn things I shouldn’t want to know. Like how deeply her competitive streak runs, and how sexy that is. And how easy it is to make her blush… everywhere.

An Adler and a Todd cannot be lovers. Breaking that rule is like pulling a pin on a grenade--everything in my life could blow up. Can we surrender to these feelings… or will our families’ feud make us its next casualty?


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“Will you delete the damn picture now? From the Cloud too?” I ask. I want to get that photo deleted and get the hell out of here and go back to pretending she and her pesky little sister don’t exist.

“You’re getting paid for the cleaning. You want the photo gone forever, you gotta pay for that,” Maggie replies coolly as she sits on her bed, leaning back all casual, like she isn’t fucking with my entire life.

“You want your money back? Fine. But I can only pay you what Vickie pays me. She takes a cut, you know. I don’t get to keep it all and I’m broke so I can’t give you anything more than I get,” I explain and grit my teeth because the idea of not being paid for this humiliation makes me pissed off.

I walk over and stand in front of her which I instantly realize isn’t a great idea. She’s now eye level with my junk. Her hazel eyes seem to grow two sizes and that alabaster complexion is changing color again.  And she tries to stand up, but I’m too close and she ricochets off my chest and lands on her back on the bed. I can’t help but laugh, which clearly annoys her so I swallow down the last bit of my chuckle, and take a step back. Pissing her off isn’t going to help me.

“You want the picture, you’re going to have to give us half your booth at the Farmer’s Market,” she announces as she stands up again, this time without calamity.

“I’m sorry, what?” I wasn’t expecting that but as soon as she announces it I realize I should have been. “When? This Sunday?”

“Yep,” she nods firmly and puts her hands on her hips. “And every other Sunday of the season.”

My jaw drops. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“I don’t kid about business, Adler,” she replies, cool as a cucumber again. I angrily grab my feather duster off the floor and point it at her, about to tell her off, but then she pulls the phone from the back pocket of her jeans and snaps another picture. I lunge for it but she’s much more graceful and cat-like than she was a minute ago and she manages to leap onto the bed and off the other side. Her fingers are busy punching things on the screen as I dart across the room to try and grab it again.

Maggie quickly drops it down the front of her shirt, probably tucking it into her bra. I freeze and she smiles. “If you go for it I will punch you square in that pretty face of yours. And also, it won’t do a lick of good. I just emailed it to myself.”

Argh! I hate this woman. 



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