As always, a huge thank you to my amazing editor, Mackenzie Walton, who makes everything I write so much better. To my husband, Matt, and my kids for their support and patience. To my agent, Deidre Knight, for believing in me. To everyone who has told me they like my books, because it truly does mean a lot and your encouragement pushes me to keep writing when I’m frustrated and tired. And to the app that allows me to watch live NHL games on my iPad while I’m writing so I can multitask.
About the Author
Rachel Reid has always lived in Nova Scotia, Canada, and will likely continue to do so. She has two boring degrees and two interesting sons. She has been a hockey fan since childhood, but sadly never made it to the NHL herself. She enjoys books about hot men doing hot things, and cool ladies being awesome.
You can follow Rachel on Instagram at rachelreidwrites and Twitter @akaRachelReid if you like thirsty posts about hockey players, and on Goodreads, if you want to follow the mountain of books she is always reading. Her website and blog, where she writes more things, is www.rachelreidwrites.com.
Now available from Carina Press and Rachel Reid
They have nothing in common—so why does Ryan feel most like himself whenever he’s with Fabian?
Read on for an excerpt from
Tough Guy.
Fabian Salah hated hockey.
Clearly there was some sort of game happening today because the subway train was packed with people wearing blue Toronto Guardians jerseys. Fabian wished he could sit down; he didn’t like standing in the middle of these people, being judged by their boring, ignorant brains. There was at least one dull jock who was openly sneering at Fabian in disgust.
Fabian kept his eyes down and resisted the urge to sneer right back at the man.
Three more stops and you’re home, he told himself.
A little girl in a pink version of the Guardians jersey—because obviously you can’t let your daughter wear something that isn’t bubblegum pink—smiled up at him. He forced himself to smile back.
It wasn’t her fault he was in a bad mood. It wasn’t her fault that he hated hockey and the people who loved it, or that her parents were far too concerned with aggressively gendering their child. She was just enjoying an afternoon out with her parents, cheering on the hometown boys.
Fabian was sure the team was packed with heroic, upstanding young men. Certainly not a bunch of homophobic alpha assholes who would be celebrating their win by doing very gross alpha things tonight. Fabian had met exactly one hockey player in his entire life of being forced to meet hockey players who wasn’t a complete nightmare.
“Is that a guitar?” the little girl in the pink jersey asked him.
Fabian blinked. “It’s a violin,” he said, as warmly as he could manage.
“Is it yours?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to play it?”
Fabian smiled. “Yes, I do. I think I was about your age when I started learning. Do you play any instruments?”
She shook her head, but then said, “I like to sing and dance.”
“Me too.”
The girl’s mother pulled her closer on their joined seats, and whispered something in her ear that was probably benign, like “Leave the nice man alone” or “Don’t talk to strangers,” but Fabian couldn’t help but imagine it was more like “Don’t talk to men who are wearing eyeliner and nail polish.”
The girl stopped talking to him, but she watched him intently all the way to Wellesley Station, where Fabian finally removed himself from the hoard of hockey fans.
As he made his way down Church Street, Fabian felt the lingering tension from the subway ride leave his body. He had better things to think about than stupid jocks. For one thing, he had finally broken things off—for good this time—with Claude last night. Claude had been the latest in a long line of self-obsessed snobs that Fabian had, for whatever reason, invited into his bed. He wouldn’t call what they’d had a relationship; he’d just kept running into Claude at various events and they would inevitably end up fucking. But Fabian was done with that shit.
He was in a good place now. He had some very promising shows booked, had almost finished his new album, and he’d recorded an in-studio interview and performance for CBC Radio last week. His parents had even listened to it, so he had definitely made it big. If things kept up he would be able to quit his part-time job, become super rich