by Anna Sugden
Harlequin® Superromance brings you four new novels for one great price, available now! Experience powerful relationships that deliver a strong emotional punch and a guaranteed happily ever after.
This Superromance box set includes:
A PERFECT COMPROMISE
The New Jersey Ice Cats
by Anna Sugden
Neither one of them wants a relationship. Issy Brandine is one step away from the safety net of a settled teaching career, and JB Larocque wanted the Stanley Cup so badly, he could taste the disappointment as he missed the winning goal. But a baby, as they say, really does change everything…
ALL I AM
A Farmers’ Market Story
by Nicole Helm
Wes Stone does not do people. The injured ex-soldier is at his best in his cabin and selling dog treats to at the farmers’ market. Cara Pruitt, his unexpected employee, is obnoxious…and completely irresistible.
KAYLA’S COWBOY
Montana Skies
by Callie Endicott
Single dad Jackson McGregor can’t believe Kayla Anderson is back in Schuyler. His high school sweetheart is just as gorgeous as ever, and her teenage son looks…exactly like him?
STRENGTH UNDER FIRE
True Blue
by Dana Nussio
One day lieutenant Ben Peterson is a reluctant hero and the next he’s being investigated for evidence tampering. No-nonsense trooper Delia Morgan is the last person he expects to be on his side, yet there she is, ready to fight for him. However, neither of them is ready for the attraction that only gets hotter the closer they work together and which forces past tragedies to the surface.
Enjoy more story and more romance from Harlequin® Superromance with 4 new novels every month!
Join HarlequinMyRewards.com to earn FREE books and more. Earn points for all your Harlequin purchases from wherever you shop.
Harlequin Superromance February 2016 Box Set
A Perfect Compromise
All I Am
Kayla’s Cowboy
Strength Under Fire
Anna Sugden
Nicole Helm
Callie Endicott
Dana Nussio
Table of Contents
A Perfect Compromise
By Anna Sugden
All I Am
By Nicole Helm
Kayla’s Cowboy
By Callie Endicott
Strength Under Fire
By Dana Nussio
Theirs is a game of give-and-take...
Schoolteacher Issy Brandine has a plan to build a stable, secure future for herself. No settling for second-best. Anything more than a sultry Caribbean fling with hotshot hockey star Jean Baptiste Larocque isn’t part of the plan. A New Jersey Ice Cat with the ultimate hockey trophy in his sights won’t fit into her low-key lifestyle. Except a surprise pregnancy changes everything.
Issy knows her child deserves more than a part-time dad. With JB’s eyes on the championship that will redeem his career, compromise is out of the question. But love—and the baby between them—might prove that nothing is impossible.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
JB’s soft question startled her. Issy’s gaze shot up to meet his. There was nothing but mild curiosity in his dark eyes.
“You’ll be disappointed, trust me.”
“Let me make up my own mind on that.”
Damn it. She should have made something up. He wouldn’t give up until she told him.
“It’s hard to talk about. Personal stuff.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “We shared a lot of personal stuff in Antigua. Why is this any different?”
Her throat ached at his gentle tone and the understanding in his eyes. She had no choice. The time had come to tell him.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to the world of the New Jersey Ice Cats! It’s time for another dedicated and delicious hockey player to face off against a lovely but challenging woman who will turn his world upside down.
There are some characters who steal your heart the minute they appear in a series. Jean Baptiste “JB” Larocque captured mine when he skated onto the page as an arrogant rookie who caused trouble for Jake “Bad Boy” Badoletti in A Perfect Distraction. From what many of you have told me, and the number of requests I’ve received for JB’s book, I’m pleased that he’s one of your favorite characters, too.
I hadn’t planned for JB to redeem himself or to have his own story, but he had other plans! Of course, he had to wait until he’d grown up enough to be ready for love. And for the right woman to appear in his life. For sure, he didn’t expect that woman to be mousy, uptight Isabelle Brandine.
As for Issy, if anyone needed a little detour from the neatly laid-out path she’d created for her life, she did. And who better to provide that unintended detour than JB? All of which goes to show that sometimes the unplanned journey can yield the greatest pleasure and the person you least suspect is the one who makes your heart sing.
I love to hear from readers. Please contact me at [email protected] or via my website (annasugden.com). You can also find me on Facebook and Twitter.
A Perfect Compromise
Anna Sugden
Former marketing executive Anna Sugden loves reading romance novels and watching films with happy endings. She also loves watching hockey and football, where she prefers a happy ending for her teams. When she’s not researching hockey players (for her books, of course), she makes craft projects and collects penguins, autographs and memorabilia, and great shoes. Anna lives in Cambridge, England, with her husband and two bossy black cats. Learn more about Anna, her books and her shoes at annasugden.com.
Books by Anna Sugden
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
A Perfect Distraction
A Perfect Trade
A Perfect Catch
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
DEDICATION
For Laura and Julia, with love.
For Keith, love always xxxxx
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Wanda Ottewell—who helped me become a better writer and without whom there wouldn’t be an Ice Cats series.
Jill Marsal—the best agent!
My gals—Beth Andrews, Terri Garey, Kathleen Long, Janice Lynn and Tawny Weber. I couldn’t do this without you.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
THE HORN BLARED. Game over. Players vaulted over the boards. Helmets, gloves and sticks flew into the air and rained down onto the ice.
As the arena erupted, Jean-Baptiste “J.B.” Larocque stood stock-still—his mind numb—unable to believe it.
The New Jersey Ice Cats had lost. Game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals. In overtime.
So damn close.
They’d put everything on the line but they’d fallen short by one goal. One lousy goal.
He’d had the puck and the game...the Cup...on his stick.
Only, he’d missed. He’d freaking missed.
Worse, in the shocked seconds after, Denver’s defense had
grabbed the puck, streaked up the ice and done what J.B. couldn’t. Just like that, it was all over.
Sudden-death overtime had never lived up to its name so perfectly before.
The aches and pains J.B. had blocked for the past two months came flooding back full-force, making him stagger. Leaning on his stick, he fought to stay upright. As terrible as he felt, he wouldn’t let the watching world see him crumble.
Around him, his dejected teammates leaned listlessly against the boards. His closest friends, Kenny Jelinek and Taylor “Mad Dog” Madden, sat slumped on the ice. Scotty Matthews looked ashen beneath his gray-streaked play-off beard. The captain had stayed on, hoping to win one more Cup. Instead of retiring on a high, he’d hang up his skates as second-best.
J.B.’s throat tightened. Last time the Cats had gone to the Finals, he’d been the conquering hero. That meant nothing now.
He had to get out of here.
A stick tapped his leg “Come on, bro.”
Jake “Bad Boy” Badoletti nodded to where Scotty and the Cats’ veteran goaltender, Ike Jelinek, were skating slowly to center ice to form the traditional handshake line. The rest of the team followed to congratulate the victorious Avalanche players.
Damn, that was the last thing J.B. felt like doing. But he had to man up and show his opponents the respect they’d earned.
“The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get the hell out of here.” Jake laid a hand on J.B.’s shoulder. “Unless you plan to stick around for the Cup presentation.”
“Yeah, like I’m a glutton for punishment.” Each stroke of his skate on the pitted ice jarred his joints.
“Your goal got us to overtime.”
“I should’ve finished the job.”
“Truth is we should’ve put the game away in the second period. Those missed chances came back to bite us in the ass in the third.”
J.B. took off his glove and shook the first hand. He continued down the line, alternating between “good job, man” and “good game.” When he got to Tru Jelinek, J.B. hugged him briefly, congratulating his friend and former teammate.
“Thanks. I’m just sorry it means you guys had to lose.” Empathy shone in Tru’s eyes.
J.B. hitched a shoulder. “Yeah.”
“I’ll catch you guys before you all fly home tomorrow.”
“For sure.”
Never had J.B. been so relieved to get off the ice. Though he felt like crap, he tapped the hands of fans hanging over the glass by the tunnel. But he couldn’t face the disappointment in their eyes, so he looked straight ahead.
The quiet in the locker room was unnerving. Guys stripped off their gear and showered without saying a word. Here and there, pockets of bright light shone as the media carried out their postgame interviews quietly. They understood how devastating this loss was to the players.
J.B. slumped onto the bench at his stall, knowing his turn would come. He took off his skates, then rested his arms on his thighs and stared at his hands, unable to stop replaying those last moments in his head. When the light shone on him, it was almost a welcome relief.
Until the dumb questions started. How did they freaking think he felt?
Fighting his growing irritation, he toed the party line. “It was a tough series. Both teams were evenly matched.” Blah, blah, blah.
“Take us through that last play. What happened?”
Seriously? J.B. glared at the polished TV presenter, barely resisting the urge to shove the idiot’s microphone where the sun didn’t shine.
The jackass stared back at him intently, as if he’d asked the one question that would reveal something earth-shattering the public didn’t know already.
“My. Shot. Went. Wide,” J.B. said through gritted teeth.
“Do you feel responsible...?”
“Enough!” J.B. surged to his feet and pushed the mikes and cameras out of his face. “We lost. It sucks. If you’d ever strapped on a freaking pair of skates and played, you’d know exactly how it freaking feels and what freaking went wrong.”
He stomped to the shower room, ripped off his gear and stood under the pounding water, eyes closed.
“You just blew your Mr. Charming image to hell,” Kenny said beside him.
“Maybe the rest of us will finally get airtime,” Mad Dog added from the other side.
J.B. opened his eyes and swore colorfully. “The jerk deserved it.”
“Definitely.” Mad Dog’s blue eyes were shadowed from the loss. Probably also from the niggling pain in his lower back that he’d been playing through for the past few games. “Dude always asks the dumbest questions.”
“That’s why he got tossed from the Rangers’ locker room last year.” Kenny winced as he worked his jaw. A bruise was forming where he’d been caught by a high stick in the dying seconds. “Man, this blows chunks. I thought for sure the ice tilted our way when you got the equalizer.”
“Yeah.” J.B. leaned his head back against the tiles and let the water stream over his face. He swallowed to ease the tightness in his throat.
The three friends finished their showers in silence, each lost in his own miserable thoughts. By the time they walked back into the locker room, the media vultures had departed to cover the Cup celebrations.
While the players dressed, their equipment was packed away and loaded onto a cart for the journey home. The next time they saw their gear would be in a couple of days, when they cleared out their lockers at the Cats’ arena. The final act of the season.
J.B. pulled on his suit jacket. First he had to get through tonight. Because they were playing in Denver, it was still only 9:00 p.m.
“Ten minutes before the bus leaves,” one of the trainers called out. “You miss it, you walk back to the hotel.”
The good-natured heckling he got was subdued.
Mad Dog hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder. “What’s the plan now?”
“Tru told me about this rock club downtown that’s supposed to be real sweet.” Kenny ran a comb through his wet hair. “Great food and hot babes. You with me?”
“Hell, yeah. What about you, Larocque?”
Part of him wanted to hole up in his hotel room with a bottle of Jack. The other part preferred to drown his sorrows in the company of a sexy woman rather than his long-time roommate, Rick “Ice Man” Kasanski.
“Count me in.”
A few hours later he wondered if he’d made a mistake. His head throbbed from the loud music, his stomach roiled from the fiery nachos and tequila shots, and his entire body felt like it had gone the distance with a heavyweight boxer.
Kenny and Mad Dog were busy with a couple of hockey groupies in town for the game. Hailey, the blonde J.B. had been chatting with, wanted to dance, but he knew if he stepped into that mass of sweaty, gyrating bodies, he’d either pass out or puke. Or both. Kasanski was looking better by the minute.
“Sorry, Hailey. Another time. I’m beat. I’m gonna cut out of here.”
“Stay a little longer. Please.” She trailed a finger down his chest.
“I can’t. I’m dead on my feet.” He smiled wearily. “But I’ll take a rain check. Next time I’m in Denver with a free night, I’ll look you up.”
J.B. turned to let his friends know he was bugging out.
That was his first mistake. His second was underestimating how unsteady his legs were.
Hailey tugged his arm. As J.B. pulled himself free, he felt his feet slide out from under him and went down hard, smacking the back of his head on the floor.
Unfortunately, as he fell, J.B. caught Hailey with his arm and knocked her backward.
All hell broke loose.
“Oh, my God. That jerk hit Hailey,” a woman yelled.
“You drunk ass,” shouted another.
J.B. tried to check if Hailey was all right but couldn’t see her through the gathering crowd. “I didn’t mean to hit her,” he tried to explain but no one was listening.
A male voice joined the rising wave of female outrage.
“We’ll show you how we treat bullies in this town.”
“Bastard,” someone else swore.
J.B. felt the kick but didn’t see it coming. Curling his body to protect himself brought on a wave of nausea. He should get up, get out of there, but he was so woozy he could hardly move.
After that, everything was hazy. J.B. was vaguely aware of Kenny and Mad Dog pulling people off him, dragging him to his feet and out of the club, and shoving him into a cab. They managed to get him back to his room before the nachos and tequila made a violent reappearance in the bathroom.
At some point they must have put him to bed because, when he awoke the following morning, he was facedown on the bed, still fully clothed. His mouth tasted like he’d spent the night licking his hockey gloves.
“Coffee, ibuprofen, juice and dry toast,” Kenny said.
J.B. groaned and gingerly rolled over.
“Do you want the good news or the bad?” Mad Dog’s quiet words triggered memories of what had happened the night before.
J.B. swallowed the pills, then drained the juice before answering. “I’m in a crapload of trouble. History has pretty much repeated itself, only this time no one can bail me out.”
Back in his rookie season J.B. had got into a predicament in a nightclub that could have ended his career before it got going. Not only had his teammates rescued him, but Bad Boy had taken the blame in the media. It had been a rude wake-up call and J.B. had steered clear of situations that could go belly-up ever since.
Until last night.
“Yeah. And the story is all over social media,” Kenny added helpfully.
Damn it! “Coach Macarty will love that. Not.”
“He’s taking it better than expected, but he doesn’t want to see your face until this has died down.”
“How am I supposed to avoid him? We’re taking the same plane back to Jersey.”
Mad Dog looked uncomfortable. “He’s arranged for you to fly home separately so you can keep a low profile. I volunteered to go with you.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Coach is also delaying your end-of-season interview for a week,” Kenny said. “He reckons he’ll have cooled down by then.”
