After his sister’s unexpected retirement from figure skating, Tyler Linden is devastated to give up his shot at the US national championships. His only hope is to find a new partner, a task that proves nearly impossible—until he observes a beautiful young woman at the local ice rink. Struck by her grace and poise, Tyler takes an unthinkable risk and asks Amaliya to become his new partner. To both of their surprise, she agrees. The path to the championship won’t be easy, but Amaliya and Tyler quickly establish a solid partnership and a profound connection—both on and off the ice. However, competition at the championships is fierce, and when the time comes, they will be forced to put everything on the line if they hope to achieve their dreams.
Excerpt
Washington, DC
January 1982
Frigid air, skates scraping against the ice, the scent of stale popcorn. Amaliya Marcell sat in one of the twenty thousand seats of the Cap Centre and laced up her figure skates before she tugged her leg warmers into place and watched while twenty hockey players worked through their last drill.
As soon as they finished, they joined her father at center ice.
The great Robert Marcell. Amaliya still missed watching her father compete, but his transition from player to assistant coach to head coach had allowed her to enjoy her routine of spending time with her dad at work. She could hardly remember a Saturday when the Washington Capitals were home and she hadn’t been here with him.
Travis, the goalkeeper, stepped off the ice and gave her a disapproving shake of his head. “You’re wearing the wrong skates again.”
“You sound like my dad.”
“Coach knows what he’s talking about,” Travis said.
“Maybe for you, but I don’t think I’m going to be joining a hockey team anytime soon.” Amaliya stepped past him. “Figure skates are more my style these days.”
“Too bad. With a bit more practice, maybe you could score on me.”Amaliya’s eyebrows lifted. “I scored a goal on you last week.”
“That was a lucky shot.”
“That’s what he always says,” her dad said as he joined them.Amaliya grinned. “Yeah, I know.”
“Travis, get some rest. It’s the kid’s turn to play.”
“Kid?” Amaliya stepped onto the ice and twirled to face her dad. “I hate to break it to you, but I’ll be an adult next week.”
“Don’t remind me,” Robert groaned.“Good luck, Coach.” Travis started toward the locker room.
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.” Robert turned his attention to Amaliya and spoke in French, his preferred language, thanks to his upbringing in Quebec. “Are you going to play a little one-on-one with your old man?”“Don’t you have to check on your players?”
“I can spare a few minutes.” He tapped his stick against the ice. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“Okay.” Amaliya combined her years of ballet training with growing up on the ice and executed a spin that resembled a pirouette.
“When you skate like that, you look like a ballerina on the ice.”Amaliya laughed. “I am a ballerina on the ice.”
“Honey, I hate to break it to you, but most ballerinas can’t do that once they put on ice skates.”
“If you say so.” She skated backward so she could still see her dad. “You’re going to let me skate while you’re in your meetings, right?”
Robert grabbed an extra hockey stick and held it out. “Play a little hockey with me first, and I might be persuaded.”Amaliya made a quick stop and returned to her father. She took the offering and grinned. “Deal.”
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Washington, DC
January 1982
Frigid air, skates scraping against the ice, the scent of stale popcorn. Amaliya Marcell sat in one of the twenty thousand seats of the Cap Centre and laced up her figure skates before she tugged her leg warmers into place and watched while twenty hockey players worked through their last drill.
As soon as they finished, they joined her father at center ice.
The great Robert Marcell. Amaliya still missed watching her father compete, but his transition from player to assistant coach to head coach had allowed her to enjoy her routine of spending time with her dad at work. She could hardly remember a Saturday when the Washington Capitals were home and she hadn’t been here with him.
Travis, the goalkeeper, stepped off the ice and gave her a disapproving shake of his head. “You’re wearing the wrong skates again.”
“You sound like my dad.”
“Coach knows what he’s talking about,” Travis said.
“Maybe for you, but I don’t think I’m going to be joining a hockey team anytime soon.” Amaliya stepped past him. “Figure skates are more my style these days.”
“Too bad. With a bit more practice, maybe you could score on me.”Amaliya’s eyebrows lifted. “I scored a goal on you last week.”
“That was a lucky shot.”
“That’s what he always says,” her dad said as he joined them.Amaliya grinned. “Yeah, I know.”
“Travis, get some rest. It’s the kid’s turn to play.”
“Kid?” Amaliya stepped onto the ice and twirled to face her dad. “I hate to break it to you, but I’ll be an adult next week.”
“Don’t remind me,” Robert groaned.“Good luck, Coach.” Travis started toward the locker room.
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.” Robert turned his attention to Amaliya and spoke in French, his preferred language, thanks to his upbringing in Quebec. “Are you going to play a little one-on-one with your old man?”“Don’t you have to check on your players?”
“I can spare a few minutes.” He tapped his stick against the ice. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“Okay.” Amaliya combined her years of ballet training with growing up on the ice and executed a spin that resembled a pirouette.
“When you skate like that, you look like a ballerina on the ice.”Amaliya laughed. “I am a ballerina on the ice.”
“Honey, I hate to break it to you, but most ballerinas can’t do that once they put on ice skates.”
“If you say so.” She skated backward so she could still see her dad. “You’re going to let me skate while you’re in your meetings, right?”
Robert grabbed an extra hockey stick and held it out. “Play a little hockey with me first, and I might be persuaded.”Amaliya made a quick stop and returned to her father. She took the offering and grinned. “Deal.”
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