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My photos are so much lamer since I started respecting copyright.

It’s autumn, back to school, cooler nights and you know what that means: hockey season! At this time of year, I’m filled with optimism that my team will have their best season ever. But that’s because they’re full of potential and haven’t yet broken my heart. I’m sure you can sympathize, since most fans experience emotional highs and lows during the long hockey season.

Ironically, I find it easier to write in the off-season, since I’m not watching hockey games all the time. And I’ve been writing and editing a lot this summer. If you have already read Hockey Is My Boyfriend, you know that there are three parts. Part One was released on July 21st. And Part Two should be released around the beginning of the hockey season, which is October 8th. I’ve got my fingers crossed—as well as my legs, toes, and eyes—that all the revisions will be done by then.

Meantime, what to read? I’ve written a short story that links Parts One and Two. If you’re on my mailing list, I’ll be sending it out on Monday. If you’re not on my mailing list, there's a place to message me at the bottom of the righthand sidebar. If you haven’t even read the book yet, what are you waiting for?

Here’s a sneak peek of the short story, French Kiss, for you. It takes place two months after Kelly arrives at McGill.

October 2004

Kiana, my next-door neighbour, and I were walking back to our residence after a late breakfast. It was the Saturday of the Thanksgiving weekend, and our residence had emptied out. Everyone within driving distance of home had fled Montréal, and the building felt strangely forlorn.
“I feel like a loser since I have nowhere to go for Thanksgiving,” Kiana complained. But she wasn’t a loser at all; she had turned down multiple invitations because she was trying to get a big assignment completed. “It’s not like I could have gone home to Oakville anyway. My parents are in Istanbul right now.”
“No way I could afford to go home to Vancouver.” I missed my family and friends a ton, but the airfare alone would have been over $600. Besides, I had games on Sunday and Monday.
“Ahmed told me that the foreign students are doing a Thanksgiving dinner, with turkey and everything, on Monday. Did you want to go to that?”
“Actually we’re doing a team potluck after our hockey game. Since we’re all here anyway, one of the assistant coaches offered to host. I’m supposed to bring a dessert. What should I get?” No way I was cooking, but dessert was easy; I’d zip over to Provigo and buy something.
“Pumpkin pie, of course,” Kiana said. But I figured someone else would do pie, maybe even bake one. I liked chocolate desserts better.
When we got up to our floor, we could see a guy hanging out down at the end of the hallway.
“Who is that?” Kiana wondered, squinting. “Oh boy, is that Carl? I thought he went back to Ottawa.” 
Carl was the “hot guy” on our floor. Kiana, as well as half the girls here, had a crush on him. Possibly she saw this as her big chance to be alone with Carl and work her charms.
“I thought everyone else left,” I said. It felt empty enough. When we got closer, the guy turned around at the sound of our voices.
“Not Carl,” Kiana whispered to me. “But something even better. Who is that hottie?”
I sighed. “It’s my ex-boyfriend. But what the hell he’s doing here, I do not know.”