Winning Hard: A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance (The Chesapeake Blades Book 1) Read online

  WINNING HARD

  A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Novel

  Book 1

  Lisa B. Kamps

  WINNING HARD

  Copyright © 2017 by Elizabeth Belbot Kamps

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

  The Chesapeake Blades™ is a fictional semi-professional ice hockey team, its name and logo created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of trademark.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names, living or dead. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any individual, place, business, or event is purely coincidental.

  Artwork and Cover Design by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art

  http://www.simplydefinedart.com/

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Other titles by this author

  Author's Note

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Author's Note

  LOVING HARD preview

  PLAYING THE GAME preview

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Other titles by this author

  DEDICATION

  For the women athletes out there, blazing new trails against the odds.

  And for the girls who refuse to believe there's no place for them to go!

  #FightLikeAGirl

  #PlayLikeAGirl

  Other titles by this author:

  THE BALTIMORE BANNERS

  Crossing the Line, Book 1

  Game Over, Book 2

  Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3

  Body Check, Book 4

  Break Away, Book 5

  Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  Delay of Game, Book 6

  Shoot Out, Book 7

  The Baltimore Banners: 1st Period Trilogy

  Books 1-3 Boxed set

  The Baltimore Banners: 2nd Period Trilogy

  Books 4-6 Boxed set

  On Thin Ice, Book 8

  Coach's Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  One-Timer, Book 9

  Face Off, Book 10

  Game Misconduct, Book 11

  Fighting To Score, Book 12

  Matching Penalties, Book 13

  THE YORK BOMBERS

  Playing The Game, Book 1

  Playing To Win, Book 2

  Playing For Keeps, Book 3

  Playing It Up, Book 4

  Playing It Safe, Book 5

  Playing For Love, Book 6

  Playing His Part, Book 7

  THE CHESAPEAKE BLADES

  Winning Hard, Book 1

  Loving Hard, Book 2

  Playing Hard, Book 3

  FIREHOUSE FOURTEEN

  Once Burned, Book 1

  Playing With Fire, Book 2

  Breaking Protocol, Book 3

  Into the Flames, Book 4

  Second Alarm, Book 5

  Feel The Burn, Book 6

  Coming Soon

  STAND-ALONE TITLES

  Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories (anthology)

  Finding Dr. Right

  Time To Heal

  Dangerous Passion

  Dangerous Heat

  Illicit Affair

  Coming Soon

  Be sure to sign up for Lisa's monthly newsletter, Kamps' Korner, for exciting news, sneak peeks, exclusive content, and fun, games, and giveaways! You don’t want to miss it!

  Can't wait for the newsletter? Need to get your fix of hockey, firefighters, passion and news daily? Then please join Lisa and a great group of readers and fans at Kamps Korner on Facebook!

  Dear Reader:

  Welcome to the inaugural season of The Chesapeake Blades!

  This new series came about because I needed to do a story about Taylor LeBlanc. You may know her better as Taylor Jennings, the adorable girl with a love of all things hockey from The Baltimore Banners series. You first met her in BREAK AWAY, and saw her again in SHOOT OUT. And, of course, she had a much bigger role in COACH'S CHALLENGE. By the end of that novella, I knew she had to have her own story.

  At first, I played around with the idea of making her the love interest for a future Banners player…but that idea didn't feel right. Taylor deserved more, and I didn't want her talents out shadowed by another hockey player.

  I didn't want to do a rec league series either but, like a lot of women athletes, there really wasn't anywhere else for Taylor to go. Or was there? What if there was a brand-new league, not quite semi-pro, but better than a rec league? Because in this fictional world, there is no NWHL and the rules are a little different.

  And so, the Blades were born.

  This isn't going to be an easy road for the ladies of the Blades. They'll have to deal with different issues as they learn to come together as a team--from jealousy and juggling two jobs, to dealing with lack of pay and lack of respect, to learning to work with an owner who isn't quite sure what he's gotten himself into and how to deal with it. They'll also be dealing with personal issues along the way, some of which will be hinted at in WINNING HARD.

  I hope you enjoy meeting the ladies of The Blades, and that you cry and cheer with them on their journey. And if you're interested in learning more about the NWHL, please check out their website!

  Happy Reading!

  LBK

  #FightLikeAGirl

  #PlayLikeAGirl

  Prologue

  Dreams didn't come with expiration dates. At least, they shouldn't. That was something Taylor LeBlanc had always believed because it was something she had always been told.

  What a load of crap.

  Reality didn't care about dreams. And—at the ripe, old age of twenty-two—Taylor's dreams were dead.

  Done.

  Over.

  Toes up.

  Tagged and bagged.

  No matter what kind of spin her dad put on it, she was a wash-up. A has-been. Finished before she started.

  Reality sucked.

  Big time.

  She glanced around the room, at the stripped bed and bare walls and stack of boxes that held the last four years of her life. Fun years. Educational years.

  Her glory years.

  She blew out a sigh and walked over to the single box that sat on the bare nightstand, alone, holding the last
remnants of those glory years. Sealing it seemed so…final. Maybe that's why she had saved this one for last—because she knew closing it up and running that strip of heavy clear packing tape over it would be the end.

  Not the literal end, of course. Her life would go on. She'd leave here, move into her tiny little apartment, get a job. Start something new. Her whole life was ahead of her, right? That's what everyone told her. How this was all about new beginnings. The start of a new adventure.

  Except her dream was dead.

  "Wow. Drama much, LeBlanc?" She muttered the words under her breath and grabbed the tape gun. This wasn't like her. She knew that. Just like she knew she'd get over it—

  Eventually.

  She just hadn't expected it to be quite so disappointing.

  Heavy footsteps, loud yet hesitant, echoed behind her against the bare floor. Taylor knew without looking who it was—her step-dad. No, her dad, period. In every way that counted. Sonny had been there for her from the very beginning. Guiding, teaching. Supporting and encouraging. Telling her to follow her dreams, no matter what.

  How could he have known it would all end like this?

  "You all set there, Pumpkin?"

  Taylor kept her back to him, not wanting him to see the annoying way her eyes were getting all watery. She blinked a few times and forced a smile on her face, hoping that would get rid of the disappointment in her voice. "Yeah. Just need to tape this final box."

  Maybe she didn't do a very good job of steadying her voice because Sonny was suddenly standing beside her, one of his beefy hands resting on her shoulder. Solid. Warm. Comforting.

  He didn't say anything, just stood there, a wall of silent strength—the way he'd always been. Several minutes went by, long and quiet. Then he reached around her and pulled a black velvet box from the jumble of trophies and plaques that had already been packed. He flipped it open then tilted it up so the overhead light caught on the gold medal nestled amid green satin.

  Taylor wanted to yank it from his hand and toss it back in the box but she couldn't—no more than she could hide the tears welling in her eyes. Sonny glanced at her, his mouth thinning for a brief second before he pulled her into one of his giant hugs and patted her on the back with a grunt.

  "Why the tears, Pumpkin?"

  "I don't know."

  "You sure about that?"

  Taylor shrugged then rested her head on his broad shoulder, taking comfort in his hold. "Maybe."

  He patted her on the back again, maybe just a little too hard, then pulled away and lowered his large frame to the edge of the bare mattress. He patted the spot next to him, the gold medal still in his hand. "Have a seat."

  Taylor managed to swallow a groan—barely. She knew he meant well but she wasn't in the mood for one of his pep talks. Not right now. Later, maybe. Right now, she just wanted five minutes to herself so she could wallow in her misery.

  But she moved over to the bed anyway and plopped down beside him, trying not to feel like she was nine-years-old again and getting ready to receive a lecture on being a good sport. "What?"

  "Why the tears?"

  "I don't know."

  "Bull—" Sonny cleared his throat, a flash of red tingeing the scar that ran down the side of his face. "Baloney. You're my daughter, I can tell when you're ready to cry. Now what's up?"

  How could she tell him without sounding like a whiny little brat who wasn't getting her way? Then again, this was her dad. Sonny LeBlanc. Former head coach of the Baltimore Banners. The same head coach who had led his team to three Stanley Cup championships. If anyone would understand, he would.

  Taylor shrugged and ran her hands along the faded denim of her torn jeans. She kept her gaze focused on the torn cuticle of her thumb, searching for the words to explain. Sometimes the easiest words were the simplest, so she took a deep breath and let the words leave in a rush.

  "I didn't think it would end this way. I thought there'd be more."

  "You didn't think college would end this way?"

  "Not college. Hockey. I didn't think the end of one would be the end of the other, you know?"

  "What makes you think hockey is ending?"

  Taylor looked up, not bothering to hide her frown—or her disbelief. "You're joking, right? It's done. Over. I'm a has-been, Dad."

  "You most certainly are not. I don't even want to hear you say that."

  "Why not? It's the truth."

  "No, it is not. Hockey's in your blood, Pumpkin. You'll always play."

  "Not professionally."

  Sonny grunted and looked down at the medal in his hand. He snapped the lid closed and tossed it into the box with another grunt then blew out a heavy sigh. "That's not your fault, Pumpkin. You shouldn't beat yourself up over it."

  "It's not fair." And yeah, she sounded like a whiny kid who just drew a penalty on the ice. She hated it. But shouldn't she be allowed to be a little whiny? Just for a few minutes? Her dream had died a swift and agonizing death. If there was ever a better time to be whiny, she'd like to know when.

  Sonny mumbled something under his breath then reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small card. He kept it curled in his large palm, staring down at it like he didn't quite know what to do with it. Then he grunted again and held it out to her.

  "I was going to wait until dinner tonight to tell you, but maybe now's a better time."

  Taylor glanced down at the scribble on the card without really seeing it. It would take too long to decipher Sonny's writing, anyway. "What's this?"

  "There's a league forming. A women's hockey league."

  "You mean like a rec league?"

  "No, I mean a professional league. Well, mostly. You'd have a contract, get paid. I'm not sure how much." He shifted on the bed then pointed at the card. "It's just four teams to start for now. One of them is back home."

  A glimmer of hope took root inside her, pushing away the funk that had been hovering around her for the last week. "You mean a real league?"

  "Yes. A real league. Tryouts are in two weeks and the season starts in October."

  "For real? Like, a real league?"

  A smile hovered around Sonny's mouth and crinkled the flesh around his warm gray eyes. "Yes. For real. You need to call that number if you want to try-out."

  Taylor tried to contain her excitement for all of three seconds, then bounded off the bed and threw her arms around Sonny's broad shoulders. "OhmyGod this is great. I'm so happy. Thank you!"

  "Don't thank me, Pumpkin. I'm just passing on the information."

  "I'll make you proud, Dad. I swear."

  Sonny's arms tightened around her and he pulled her in even closer, his voice thick and gruff when he spoke. "I've always been proud of you, Pumpkin. Don't you know that?"

  Chapter One

  Three months later

  Winners never quit and quitters never win.

  The old adage ran through Charles Dawson's mind, over and over, picking up speed and threatening to split his skull wide open. Would anyone notice?

  Considering six sets of eyes were trained on him—yeah, probably.

  Not for the first time, he asked himself what the hell he'd gotten into this time. Yes, he was good at marketing. Damn good. But he wasn't a miracle worker and he was pretty sure that's what the Chesapeake Blades needed: a miracle worker.

  Not just the Blades—the whole damn league. But the league wasn't his problem. Thank God. He was going to have enough of a problem marketing the fledgling team. Let someone else worry about the league, that one wasn't on him.

  Not yet, anyway.

  And not that it mattered. The two went hand-in-hand, no matter how many times he tried to convince himself otherwise.

  Quitters never win.

  No, they didn't. But was running for the lifeboats to escape a sinking ship really the same as quitting? Some would say it was simply a question of semantics.

  And he wasn't about to split hairs with the group gathered in front of him, watching him like he was th
eir last hope. Like he was their lifeboat.

  God help them all.

  James Murphy, the majority owner of the Chesapeake Blades, glanced down at the colorful presentation folder resting on the shiny desk in front of him. Bushy gray brows pulled low over steely eyes and the thin chest puffed out in importance. Charles knew he was judging the man harshly—Murphy really did have good intentions as far as the team was concerned. Although why in the hell he thought buying into the Blades was a sound investment was anyone's guess.

  Money to burn, maybe? A tax write-off? Or maybe the man wanted to be part of something bigger. Hell, maybe he was just living out a childhood fantasy and nurturing dreams of the imagined glitz and glamor of owning a sports team. Charles didn't know and he didn't really care. He didn't deal with dreams and fantasies. He was here to do a job, nothing more.

  Damn shame that this job was turning into a major headache that just might signal the end of an otherwise prosperous career.

  "Did you have any of the girls in mind, Chuck?"

  Charles inwardly winced at the nickname. Christ, he hated that name. It brought back memories of his awkward childhood, reminding him of those times when he'd been a young bumbling teenager who was a little too round and a little too clumsy to really fit in. A late-bloomer, his mother always said—usually as she was ushering him from one sport or activity to another, anxious for him to find a place to fit in and make friends.

  Charles had finally grown out of the baby fat and the awkwardness and found his own footing, one that had nothing to do with sports. At least, not the way his mother had hoped.

  The irony of his new position as Director of Marketing and Public Relations for the Chesapeake Blades wasn't lost on him. He would have laughed if anyone had told him a year ago that he'd be trying to market a women's hockey team.

  A women's hockey team. It boggled the mind. But here he was, trying to do the impossible in a market that had a real hockey team—the Baltimore Banners—playing fifteen minutes away. It was doomed for failure before it even started.