I’m loving this tradition. “I can’t wait.”
“I love you so fucking much, Harley.”
I don’t deserve him. “I love you with all my heart, Kaz.”
He places a chaste kiss against my lips. “Hold on tight. We’re going for a spin.” Kaz skates around the rink, holding me like I’m a prized trophy.
I’m overcome with joy and elation.
No way am I ever letting go of this man.
My man.
Yesterday’s Born to Wear Blue charity event at the City Ice Pavilion arena has the whole internet buzzing. And it’s not because of the eye-popping donations collected during the event or because Devlyn Frostburg walked the event’s red carpet, hanging from Oskar Lindström’s arm, with her son Chett—and New York Supersonics player—strutting right by her side.
Nope.
It’s because Kazimir Lindström is officially better than a book boyfriend.
The normally emotionally constipated hockey player made a swoony public declaration, letting the whole world know the creative brain behind the charity event has stolen his heart.
Harley Lancaster, you’re a lucky bitch.
As I sign off to the tune of James Arthur's ‘Say You Won’t Let Go’, the song that was playing in the background as Kaz was skating with his swan, I’m manifesting my own dreamy Kazimir Lindström.
#JustSpottedNYC #SpillingTheTea #TheLoveIWant #TheLoveIDeserve #WhenHeLovesYouRight
Epilogue
Harley
A year later
The taxi drops me off in front of My Little Bookish Heart. The setting sun washes the sky with warm golden lights over the brick building in front of me.
So far, this is been an amazing day and it’s about to get even better.
Two store employees are standing outside the bookstore, wearing sports jerseys with ‘Hockey Book Boyfriends Do It Better’ written across their chest.
I guess that’s a clue to today’s mystery guest author.
The two bookstore owners sent an invitation for a blind date with a bookanda blind date with an author, and no way was I going to miss the event. Since Kaz is hanging out with Erik, the timing couldn’t be more perfect.
I approach the women who are more than aware of my addiction and smile.
The tall redhead with brown eyes holding an iPad returns my smile. “Hey, Harley. Glad you could make it.” She lowers hereyes to the device, her finger scrolling the screen. “You’re good to go.”
“Thank you.”
“Here’s your blind date with a book copy.” Her colleague, a short Latina with almond shaped brown eyes, hands me a book wrapped in craft paper with all the trimmings that make book girlies giddy—genre themed stickers, colored sticky tabs, a pen, two highlighters, a bag of tea, one of hot chocolate, and a bookmark.
“This is an odd shape,” I say with a frown. “It isn’t a novel.”
“No, but I’m sure it’spuck-tastic.”
I snort laugh as I take the book from her. “Good one.”
“See you inside,” she says, opening the door to the bookstore.
