google-site-verification: googleac360fc8074aac27.html google-site-verification: google6040e131018c9d7f.html GIVEAWAY: $25.00 AMAZON GIFT CARD & SIGNED PAPERBACK - Pucked Off by Helena Hunting! -
Thursday, February 16, 2017

GIVEAWAY: $25.00 AMAZON GIFT CARD & SIGNED PAPERBACK - Pucked Off by Helena Hunting!

Enter for a chance to win a signed copy of Pucked Off and a $25.00 Amazon gift card!  Pucked Off, an all-new STANDALONE romantic comedy from Helena Hunting is coming February 21st! Read an excerpt below.

Pucked Off by Helena Hunting
Publication Date: February 21, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance

***A Standalone novel in The Pucked Series***

I’m NHL defenseman Lance Romero, AKA Lance “Romance."

I’m notorious for parties and excess. I have the most penalty minutes in the league. I get into the most fights. I take the most hits. I’m a player on and off the ice. I’m the one women with no inhibitions want.

Not because I like the notoriety, but because I don’t know how to be any other way.

I have secrets. Ones I shared with the wrong person, and she used them against me. Sometimes she still does. I should cut ties. But she makes it difficult, because she’s the kind of bad I deserve.

At least that’s what I believed until someone from my past gets caught up in my present. She’s all the good things in this world. She lights up my dark.

I shouldn’t want her.

But I do.

I should leave her alone.

But I won’t. 


Lance is sitting in the exact same place he was earlier today. He’s wearing a pair of jeans now instead of sweats, and a T-shirt with his team logo instead of a hoodie. His hair looks like his hand has been in it. He proves my theory correct when he looks up from his lap and runs his fingers through it again. No man should have the right to look this good, especially as beat up as he is. 
“Hi.” Wow, my brain is on point right now. 
“Hey.” His knee bobs a couple of times. 
“Holy Jesus,” says Debbie. She grabs my arm and does this swoony thing, falling into me for a second before she pushes away and flaps her hands in front of her face. “Oh my God! You’re Lance Romero! You play for Chicago!” 
I suddenly feel far less ridiculous about my reaction to this man.  
She takes three steps toward him and then two steps back. “I’m so sorry. I just—can I please have your autograph? I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t be this close to you and not ask.” The whole time she talks, her hands are flapping. She looks to me. “That’s Lance Romero. I’m in love with him.” I think she means to whisper the last part, but she doesn’t. 
The side of his mouth quirks up. “I’d be happy to sign anything ya want.” That hint of Scot drops. 
Once she’s done fawning over him, and talking to him about how much of a team player he is, and blah, blah, blah, she thanks him half a dozen more times for being so nice.  
As soon as she’s gone, Lance exhales a deep breath and taps on the counter. And I’m alone with him, again. For the second time today.   
“I’m so sorry, and thank you. You really didn’t need to do that, but I’m pretty sure you made her entire year.” 
“It’s cool. I’m used to it.” More desk tapping. 
I try not to fidget or touch too many of Bernadette’s things. “I’m sure you are.” 
“I didn’t mean for that to sound cocky.” 
“It doesn’t. I assume you’re here about your phone?” 
“Aye. The receptionist lady said you had it.” 
“Yes, I meant to leave it with her, but I forgot.” The lie feels thick on my tongue. Despite the awkwardness of this entire situation, I still wanted to be the one to give it back. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long.” 
“I would’ve waited to see you either way, so it doesn’t really matter.” The last part comes out heavily accented, sounding more like It does nae reee-lly mah-ter. 
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say to that. I don’t understand why he’d wait to see me, unless he wanted to make sure I didn’t jailbreak his phone. 
He looks down and smoothes his hand across the counter. His knuckles look sore, and his nails are bitten to the quick, a bad habit I used to share, but have worked hard to curb. There’s nothing quite like wearing your worry on your hands for everyone to see. He makes a fist when he notices me looking and drops his hands to his sides. 
When he doesn’t say anything else, I shut down the computer and push up from the chair. “Well, I’ll just go get your phone for you.” 
I beeline for my massage room and try not to freak out on the way there. His phone sits where I left it: on top of my pile of towels, where I could see every message come in while I massaged my other clients.  
Lance is standing in the same place when I return with his phone. He has thirty-seven new messages, six missed calls, and two voicemails from DO NOT FUCKING REPLY. I only know because the tally appears every time the phone lights up again. 
I pass it over to him. “You missed a lot of calls.” 
At the quirk of his brow, I rush to explain. “I wasn’t snooping. It just went off a lot.” 
The phone buzzes again. His grin drops and his eyes go wide as he scans the screen and does some scrolling.  
“Fuckin’ell.” He jams the device in his pocket and shakes his head. “I, uh—thanks for holding on to my phone for me.” 
“Of course.” I’m anxious now. His proximity does things to me that I don’t know how to handle. And he’s staring. “Did you forget anything else?” 
I blink a couple of times, certain I’m misunderstanding. My heart does this stupid fluttery thing. “I’m sorry. Pardon?” 
Lance shakes his head. “My teammate Miller says I know you, but I don’t remember, and I should.” 
“I don’t—” 
“I should remember someone as beautiful as you.” It sounds very much like a line, but he taps the desk again. He’s agitated, his frustration obvious. “I want to remember you.” 

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About the Author:
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NYT and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

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GIVEAWAY - $25.00 AMAZON GIFT CARD & SIGNED PAPERBACK of Pucked Off by Helena Hunting!   2/21 release.

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