The Muse and the Fairy Tale (New Hampshire Bears #1) Read online

  Copyright 2015 © Gone Writing Publishing

  This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state, and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights: you are not allowed to give or sell this book to anyone else.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if the author uses one of these terms.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  New Hampshire Bears’ Team Roster

  Synopsis

  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

  Epilogue

  Announcement

  About the Author

  Books by the Author

  Dedication

  This is for everyone who hates my books!

  Thanks for still taking the time and reading them!

  Acknowledgements

  First, to my loving husband, Bret, my three amazing step-kids, and my mom, who is always making me laugh.

  Second, to my Lindsay Paige (aka my LP). I say it all the time, but it’s the truth, you’re an amazing and wonderful friend! Thank you for all that you do for me! I adore you more and more every day! To my Frodo (aka Amber Linn) thank you for your constant support no matter what task I toss your way. You are such a dear, kind, sweet friend and I’m so glad to be your Sam! To Rebecca Cartee, I’m sorry about the commas, but it’s getting better!

  Third, to all the bloggers, readers, authors, and author-friends you have helped me promote this new series! THANK YOU!

  New Hampshire Bears’ Roster

  Coach: Taden Long

  Forwards:

  15 – Hamilton Baer*

  56 – Alden Brockman

  11 – Ladd Hanes

  28 – Edgar Hopp

  81 – Zerrick Justice

  88 – Finlay Mackey

  67 – Gage McLoyd

  16 – Vance Pemberton

  53 – Jarvis Richter

  72 – Remington Rosin

  65 – Kyson Wick

  86 – Bas Zorn

  Defensemen:

  6 – Cable Dirks

  4 – Keaton Jaco

  32 – Walker Lange

  2 – Dag Limon

  5 – Ivan Rodin

  7 – O’Dell Tillman

  57 – Shade Wooten

  Goalies:

  50 – Teo Elgin

  * - means Captain

  The Muse and the Fairy Tale (New Hampshire Bears Book 1)

  Meadow Hylton has held onto the dream of Prince Charming sweeping into her life and falling madly in love with her. Until it happens, she fulfills her fantasy by writing sports romance books. However, that love has been hit with a bout of writer's block. A new muse on social media helps diminish that block quickly.

  Kyson Wick is a newly traded player to the New Hampshire Bears, and he’s thankful for the change. His goal is to be the best hockey player and forget the ex-girlfriend who broke his heart. He’s also hoping a new venture with an author looking for a new cover model is the distraction he needs.

  Soon, the chemistry between Kyson and Meadow begins to grow. But when their dreams collide, will the muse be able to fulfill the fairytale?

  Chapter One

  Meadow

  “Come on words,” I yelled at my blank computer screen, scaring my yellow tabby cat, Puckhead. “Sorry,” I muttered.

  I stared a few more minutes before rolling my eyes. “This sucks.” I gave up and clicked over to Facebook.

  I scrolled through several notifications about how much people loved my books or characters. I, over ambitiously, send a caps lock of thank yous and smiley faces. I kept scrolling until I got bored and headed over to watch silly cat videos. Sad to say, Puckhead wasn’t as cool as these cats.

  “Why can’t you do tricks so I can pimp you on YouTube?” I scratched his head. “I would totally exploit you for money.” I made a kissy face at him, which causedhim to jump off my desk and stroll across the room away from me. I ignored him and went back to the black hole of the internet. I figured while I was on here, I’d search for possible cover model or possibly a muse to help get the juices flowing.

  Nothing wrong with looking at some abs for inspiration.

  I went to my regular photographer friends, saw the same faces who have been on a hundred different covers including some of my own, and continued past them. I hoped to see some new faces, but none of them interested me.

  “I guess I’ll check up on the news,” I told no one but Puckhead, who was now sleeping in the other room and probably couldn’t hear me anyway.

  I clicked on the tab labeled Twitter; where else would I get my news? It was the twenty-first century, if you couldn’t tell me in one hundred forty characters or less then I didn’t care. Yes, it was idiotic to think that way, but it was the truth, and I was far too busy watching cat videos to keep up with current events.

  At thirty-five, I should be more aware of the ins and outs of the world outside my house, but my world consisted of the fictional characters in my head. I’d made a deal with myself to be an author before I was thirty. On the eve of my big three oh, I clicked publish on my very first novel. Now, I’ve been writing professionally for five years.

  Two years after my thirtieth, another dream came true when I was able to quit my dead-end job and write full-time. It was the scariest thing I’d ever done and the most rewarding.

  The downside of being an at-home writer: I never left home. I did my best to keep up with old friends, but most of my interaction with them was through Facebook or text messages here and there. I did go to the gym, but it was mainly to check out hot guys and see what might fit into my current storyline.

  I lived a pathetic life.

  I haven’t been on a date in forever. I tried online, but that was just a gene pool of creepy guys who still lived with their parents. I wasn’t saying everyone was, just the ones hitting on me. I held tight to a dream of Mr. Right aka P
rince Charming swooping down and carry me off into the sunset.

  Childish?

  Most definitely, but I wanted it most in the world.

  Maybe I should try online dating again.

  Maybe not.

  I went back to scrolling through Twitter until I came across one of my favorite sports teams. I have been a hockey fan from way back. I’ve always loved the sport, but don’t put me in skates. I was like a baby giraffe just born. I had no balance, and klutz was my middle name. However, the guys on the ice made it look easy.

  The New Hampshire Bears were based right here in Manchester. I, of course, held season tickets to the games, but usually sold them online because I was too busy to go. I wished I could go more often, but I had deadlines.

  I read the article about a new team member, Kyson Wick, who the Bears had just signed.

  “Well, aren’t you a slice of a hot-man cake,” I said to the screen until I saw he was twenty-five. “Okay, young-hot-man-cake,” I corrected myself.

  I studied his picture closely, maybe too close. He had brown hair, slightly shaggy, in a fashionable way. His green eyes were almost a shade of olives they were so rich in color. Obviously, he was built like a Roman God; I was sure he worked out four hours a day, as I reached for another Little Debbie zebra cake.

  “He’d make the perfect cover model,” I told the screen.

  “Yes,” I answered myself.

  It was the first sign I was on the train to crazyville, but I asked and answered myself all the time. I took another bite of the sugary, extremely fattening, delicious cake and thought the process through. Out. Loud.

  “One, he’s hot. Two, he seems photogenic. Three, he’s not a superstar, so I won’t have to inflate his ego or pay a ton of money. Four, he’s hot. Five, he’s local and that’ll be easier to schedule. Six, he’s hot.” I counted each point on my hand, except for six because I didn’t want to put down my cake.

  After thinking it over for another moment or two, I popped the last piece of the cake in my mouth and pulled up Google.

  “Okay, I’m not going to get my hopes up. Plus, if he says ‘no’, I can always come up with a backup plan. Of course, I don’t have one, but one will come to me.”

  I gave myself the pep talk as I typed in ‘Kyson Wick’s Manager’ into the Google search bar. If anyone knew where to start, it was good ole Google.

  As always, it didn’t fail me, and the first link showed me Arden Thompson, Sports Agent. It wasn’t his manager, but it was a start. I clicked the link, which took me to his page. I hit ‘contact us’ and sent a lengthy, but professional query about Kyson’s manager.

  When I finished, I figured it was time for a real break. “Not like I’ve done anything all day,” I muttered and headed toward my couch.

  My most prized possession: my house. I had been saving a long time to buy one, and when my second book took off on the sales chart, I bought this beauty and moved out of my crappy apartment.

  It was twelve hundred square feet, all for Puckhead and me. I had a master bedroom, which I’d painted white with red accents. I’ve always loved those two colors. I turned the second bedroom into my office. The walls were also white, but 8x10 canvases of my covers filled the walls, along with fan made art. My desk was massive, taking up the majority of the room. It held my desktop, laptop, and all my crap. Mainly, it contained Post-Its everywhere with notes and ideas on them.

  My sanctuary ended up being my living room. I splurged on a large seventy-inch HD TV where I could lay on my couch and watch my movies. Along the walls were my bookshelves. The books were my babies. Some were autographed, some were old, and some never touched, but they were all mine.

  The least favorite part of the house? The kitchen. I didn’t do much in there. I knew the microwave and the fridge worked and I had an amazing wine rack and that baby never ran low.

  This was my home, and I loved it.

  I heard my computer ding as I fixed myself a glass of wine. I debated with myself if I should leave it until later and go back to my Friends marathon on Netflix or check it out.

  Not shockingly, my nosiness won, and holding my precious wine glass tight, I went back into my office. I was surprised to see an email from Arden Thompson.

  “Seriously?” I was stunned as I hit open and read the words that he’d forward the request to Kyson’s manager.

  Chapter Two

  Kyson

  I rubbed my temples as I listened to Arden, my agent, and Kian, my brother and manager, debate this project. They both wanted me to do it.

  “Stop! Stop for two seconds.” I finally had enough. “Why do you want me to do this?”

  “Because it’ll show how personable you are, and it’s great coverage,” Arden started.

  “Plus, this could widen your fan base,” Kian added.

  “Don’t I have a say?” I gave them both pointed glares.

  “Yes, Kyson, you do.” Kian backed down a bit.

  “Give me this author’s info, and I’ll talk to her. If I think it’s a good fit, I’ll let you know.” I stood up from the table. “I think we’re done.”

  Kian followed me out of Arden’s office. “Kyson.”

  I stopped and turned to him. “It’s my career and my face on the cover, right?”

  Kian nodded.

  “Then I’ll be the one to approve it.” I stormed off to the parking garage and out onto the New York City streets.

  I didn’t get far considering traffic was a nightmare. I hated driving. Normally, Kian would drive, but he had his own car to handle more errands.

  While I was sitting at the red light, my cell alerted me of an email. Since I wasn’t going anywhere, I checked to see it was from Arden with the information for Meadow Hylton.

  I couldn’t figure out why this chick wanted me on a cover. Of a book no less. I wasn’t one to read a lot, or really at all for that matter. They’ll eventually make the good ones into movies anyway. So, what was the point?

  I tossed my phone into the seat next to me and figured I’d deal with it later.

  I made it back to my hotel room without having a road rage episode, even though I did do a lot of cussing, mostly under my breath. I was much more tired than I should have been, but the last month had been nothing but stressful.

  Heading up to the New Hampshire Bears was a great move. I’d done it in hopes I would make it to the Finals. I’ve been in the Professional Hockey League for six years now, and I haven’t made it once. In addition, the change of scenery would be good for me, and I’d get away from her.

  I fell into the desk chair, which was the most uncomfortable chair in the world. My computer, well Kian’s really, was on, and since I had a few moments to spare, I decided to check out this author chick. I never needed my own computer; I actually really didn’t know much about them. I’d check emails occasionally, look up stats on the PHL site of other players, and maybe the news, if I was bored, but nothing else. The one place I posted the most at was Instagram. Anyone could take a picture and toss in some hashtags. Simple. Easy. Perfect for me.

  After checking Arden’s email, I went to her Facebook page first. She was a sports fan and a big time author by the looks of it. She had over ten thousand followers. I jumped over to Amazon and saw she wrote Sports Romance.

  Sports Romance?

  Is that a thing?

  She had many good reviews and mostly they commented about the sex in her books, not to mention the romance. After I scrolled through some more reviews, then Tweets, I clicked on her Instagram page, and there it was…her cat.

  “Puckhead.”

  Talk about a cool name.

  The cat was fat, orange, and in almost every picture. With books, by the TV, everywhere.

  Crazy cat lady would be my first thought about her. She obviously had no family because this was the cat’s page. At least, it seemed to be. Suddenly, I became more curious about her, and I didn’t know why. She was passionate; I’d give her that one. She seemed dedicated and forthcoming to
her fans.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing after all.

  I took a shot in the dark and messaged her. Not really sure why, but I’d made worse decisions in my life.

  Ms. Hylton, I’m Kyson Wick and would like to discuss your project proposal further.

  I didn’t think she’d respond fast, but almost instantly, the bubble came up showing she was typing.

  Mr. Wick, I didn’t send a proposal. All I asked was if you’d be interested and then we could discuss it more.

  Sassy; I liked it.

  My manager, Kian, only gave me a shortened version of your email conversation. I still have questions.

  What would they be?

  I chuckled, wanting to rile her up a bit and see what she was really like.

  Will I be showing my dick on the cover?

  Good Lord, no! It’s not porn. It’s a book cover.

  According to some reviews, you write some steamy scenes.

  This is true, but that isn’t on the cover. Well, not a lot of it anyway.

  Why me?

  I was curious why, out of all the players, she’d picked me.

  You’re a Bear. I like the Bears, and I think you’ll be perfect for the cover.

  Simple and to the point. She doesn’t beat around the bush, and I liked that, too.

  Fair enough. Why don’t you go ahead and send the proposal over to Kian? I’ll look it over.

  Thank you.

  Since I was now done with having fun with the author, it was time to find out where my brother was and find something to eat.

  Manchester wasn’t as I pictured. Sure, I’d been here before playing in the PHL, but I’d never really looked at it. It wasn’t a bad place. I would have called it a town, though. I was raised in Chicago, and this place was a town in my eyes, albeit, a nice town.