Part of Series
MAKE ME CHASE YOU. MAKE ME WORK FOR YOU. Jack Rhett and I were supposed to grow old together, but he double broke my heart when he forced me to choose between marrying him and hockey. I had to watch his sever in two as I felt mine breaking apart. Worst day you’ll ever have, lemme tell yah. I chose hockey and if I’m choosing hockey, I’m doing it all the way and leaving love out of the equation, maybe forever. No point getting involved with someone else just to break both of our hearts. Slept with my new coach, though. It was on accident, okay? It’s not like I knew he was gonna be my coach when it happened. I do know that if it happens again, my heart will be in jeopardy. I’ve just got to get through the season without falling back into bed with him. Annoying the ever-loving heck outta him should do the trick, eh? Mercy People depend on me. They need me. That’s what my life has been about since I was ten years old. The one time I stepped outside of that was such a colossal failure, I vowed never to do it again. My sister cursed me. She said that one day I’d pay for my situationship ways by falling so in love with a man that I’d do anything for him. I hate that she was right. My heart’s decided Jack’s mine and now that I’ve fallen, I’ll never be the same. I might have to live the rest of my life as half a person. He’s on my hockey team and I can’t avoid him. I’m drawn to him. Can’t stop thinking about him. What do you do when you know in your heart someone’s yours, but you can’t have them? This real Canadian adventure features possessive MCs, an age-gap romance, enemies-to-lovers vibes, and the sweetest hockey romance you’ll ever read. Oh, and of course, it contains the caretaking dynamic Mock (S. Legend and Canadian) is known best for. It’s a verified member of the Hot Pink Peaches Club.
Author
Some of you know her as Mock, others as S. Legend, or Miss S. She welcomes all names but will often go by Mock, a name given to her by her readers. Mock is an ambitious creative, weaving the most precious aspects of her soul into stories. She is an architect, building fascinating worlds, designed from inquiry, rooted in worldly wonderings. It’s an intuitive process where she is the scribe, the translator, the conduit. It helped that storytelling was the language spoken at home. One simply didn’t say, “We have an ant infestation,” in Mock’s family it was, “I was on my way to the living room, when a peculiar ant crossed my path. I looked to my right, a suspicious line of them marched toward the pantry. In that moment I knew; my kitchen was under siege.” The natural flow of conversation always took this form. And so. When Mock wrote her first novel, she didn’t plan it chapter by chapter, there was no outline, no “plotting” to speak of. But she didn’t “pants” it either, she didn’t make it up as she went along. She knew how the story felt, where it curved in places and hollowed in others; she knew the destination it rushed toward. Instead of orchestrating, she let the world inspire her, and held space for the words to come, trusting the characters knew what they were doing. All she had to do was tell a story, as she always had done; like breathing. This is her peace, her healing and solace: Gifts better shared. Mock’s works are the comfort you seek when you need to come home. Her unique writing style will take you, wayfaring reader, to unexpected destinations. She always says, “I’m not in the business of making up stories, I couldn’t if I tired. I’m lucky enough to get picked to share someone else’s story when I ask a question to the universe. Someone answers; I write it down.”
