now on kindle unlimited, also a sneak peak
A very, very brief post to note that, for the moment at least, the first three books of my series are available on Kindle Unlimited (sorry. I know. I know). So if you are a KU type of person, and you have not read the books but would like to, now is your chance.
If for some reason you are subscribed to my newsletter and have not read them, perhaps I can convince you. In the series you will find: enemies to lovers! friends to lovers! one sided enemies to lovers and one sided who are you again to lovers! a lot of under-negotiated kink! some very sad hockey men and some less sad hockey men! a scene involving dirty talk about the department of player safety and other thought experiments that my editor did not make me remove! maybe not always 100% accurate to life play by play hockey but exhaustively researched culturally accurate hockey!
For those of you who are not KU subscribers, and I get it, there’s still a bunch of free stuff on my website and I have not abandoned the Rémi and Jack story, it’s just been very difficult to find the time or the mental energy to write recently. But, if you are sticking with me, here is a brief excerpt from the veeeeery beginning of that story:
Rémi Cormier’s first mistake was losing his wallet after the game. He didn’t realize until he got home and spent most of the rest of the night frantically ripping apart his car, his apartment, his bag. It wasn’t anywhere to be found.
He took a deep breath and thought, I’ll go back to l’Arène tomorrow morning; it’s probably in the dressing room somewhere still, and forced himself to go to bed and close his eyes. It took him a long time to fall asleep anyway, his brain filling in all of the ways that losing his identification was going to make travel and playing in the fucking playoffs difficult.
Christ.
Rémi Cormier’s second mistake was going back to l’Arène early on a Saturday morning, long before anyone was due to be there for morning skate. He had thought it would be safer, because his teammates wouldn’t be there to make fun of him for the rookie move of not checking his bags before he left the rink. Of failing to have it securely in his pants pocket, at the very least.
He’d gone early enough that he had to swipe himself in with his card, and the equipment staff weren’t even there yet. Nor were the nutritionists and the chefs who prepared post-practice meals for the players in the lounge. He exhaled. Okay. He could get in, he could hopefully find his wallet without too much trouble, and then he could get out again before anyone noticed. Or, if he wanted, he could just stay and get a head start on stretching and the gym.
As Rémi made his way through the back halls that honeycombed the rink, letting the players avoid the general public on tours, he heard a noise. Several noises, actually, muffled and indistinct at first. He stepped forward, frowning. There shouldn’t have been anyone at the arena, let alone in the dressing room.
For a second, Rémi considered leaving. He considered fleeing. But something made him move closer. Call it a death wish, call it the kind of curiosity that had always gotten him in trouble as a kid. And as soon as he did get closer, he realized two things.
One, he could still feel it whenever he blushed, a hot flush that started at his ears and radiated outward until it felt like his head was going to explore from pressure and heat. Two, the noises were…sex noises.
As always, thanks for reading!
— Ari 🧡