Series: Love in Maple Falls
Publication date: August 27th, 2025
Synopsis:
She's a grump with a grudge. He's a sweetheart with a slapshot. Sparks were expected, but the fireworks? Pure magic.
Mabel
Returning to Maple Falls wasn't part of my five-year plan--or my backup plan. Or any plan, really. But here I am, back in my quirky hometown, dodging my mother's judgment and trying not to cringe every time someone mentions the viral moment. (Yes, that one. No, I don't want to talk about it.)
When my editor sends me to cover the NHL's shiny new team, the Ice Breakers, I'm all in--until I meet Asher Tremblay. He's their too-charming defenseman with a knack for wrecking my focus and my sanity. Equal parts infuriating and irresistible, but falling for him? Not on my agenda. Nope.
Asher
I've worked my whole life to make it in the NHL. A new team means a fresh start, and I won't let anything distract me--least of all a snarky reporter who seems determined to hate me on sight.
But the more I see Mabel, the more I want to know what's behind her walls. She's fire and chaos, and I've spent my whole life playing it safe. Maybe she's exactly what I need. I came to Maple Falls to chase my dream, but now all I want is her.
***
Checking Mr. Wrong is part of the Love in Maple Falls sweet hockey romcom multi-author series. It's a grumpy sunshine story with forced proximity in this small town romance with all the sizzle and chemistry, but none of the spice.
Welcome back to Maple Falls--the small town where hockey players fall in love! This is a multi-author series of seven full-length books that could be read as standalones, but we think you'll enjoy them best in order.
Fake-Off with Fate by Whitney Dineen
Offside and Off-Limits by Kate O'Keeffe
Checking Mr. Wrong by Anne Kemp
Skating and Fake Dating by Ellie Hall
Goalie and the Girl Next Door by Elsie Woods
Soulmates and Slapshots by Melissa Baldwin
The Icing on the Cake by Grace Worthington
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Excerpt
"Hey." I nod toward her shoulder, where a loose wave of hair catches the light. "You've got something..."
It takes me a second to realize what I'm looking at because it doesn't belong there. A ribbon of melted cheese tangled in her hair, accompanied by the faintest smear of red sauce clinging to a strand like it's trying to blend in. Only Mabel could somehow make pasta-in-her-hair look stupidly endearing instead of it being a full disaster.
"What?" Her eyes grow wide, to the point I think they may bug out of her head, and she groans. "Don't tell me there's food in my hair? I swear it's not a meal unless I drop something I'm eating on myself."
"Even in your hair?"
"I know. It's amazing, right?" She rolls her eyes. "It's like food flies to my body and sticks to it."
I reach out, only to have her jump straight up in the air and then land on the couch a few more inches farther away from me.
"I can see it. Let me help get it out of your hair, is that okay?"
Without thinking, my fingers drift up, gentle and slow, brushing the crumbs free like I'm handling something fragile--because right now, everything about her feels fragile and electrifying all at once.
Mabel stays still, her eyes catching mine like a spark caught in a bottle. Her breath hitches ever so slightly, and I swear I can feel the pulse of her heartbeat through the warmth of her skin. It's tiniest of sensations, yet it sends me into overdrive.
My fingertips drift from the strands of her hair to the gentle curve of her cheek, soft as a whisper, tracing every line like I'm committing a secret map to memory. The room fades away, shrinking until it's just the two of us, bathed in flickering firelight and shadow. Her beautiful green eyes hold me captive, and I don't even try to break free. Funny I hadn't truly noticed before how her long lashes delicately frame them, like the perfect finishing touch on something already breathtaking.
My gaze falls on her full, slightly parted lips that tempt me in a way that twists something low in my chest. Without breaking eye contact, I slide my hand behind her head, fingers threading into the warmth of her hair. It's a simple motion, but it feels like crossing a line I didn't even know was there, a line I want to cross a thousand times over. Wash, rinse, repeat. All day long.
Mabel's gaze meets mine, and with one tiny smile and the sweetest of sighs, I have all the permission I need.
I lean in slowly, savoring every fraction of an inch until my lips meet hers. The kiss is gentle at first, but it grows with a quiet urgency, a heat that spreads through me like wildfire. It's slow and deliberate because I want to burn the sensation of her lips into my memory.
Her hands slide up my arms, light but firm. This woman is steadying me, grounding me in a space that suddenly feels like everything. She breathes out against my lips, and just as I lean in deeper, she stops me and whispers, "We shouldn't--"
"Mabel." I silence her when I press my forehead against hers, the world narrowing. "Stop talking."
Slowly, I brush the stray strands of hair away from her eyes, careful and deliberate, like I'm savoring every second, her breath hitching in anticipation with each movement. Then, with a tenderness that belies everything simmering beneath the surface, I slant my lips across hers.
Her mouth is electric, sweet and delicious. It's a spark that ignites a fire, a warmth that spreads through me and roots me here, in this perfect, impossible slice of time.
Her hands tighten on my arms, and I feel her melt into me as if she's been waiting for this as long as I have. The kiss deepens, our movements growing bolder, hungrier. My hands slide to her waist, gripping and pulling her closer until there's no space left between us. Every brush of her lips, every soft sound she makes, sends heat racing through me.
I don't even notice my hands have traveled back into her hair, holding her against me like I can't bear the thought of letting go. Her fingers grip my shoulders now, steady and strong, steadying us in a heartbeat of time that's slipping quickly from careful to consuming.
And then, I'm not sure which one of us hears it first: the sound of keys in the lock before the front door crashes open and shatters the silence, the cold air from outside rushing in like an unwelcome guest.
We spring apart, breathless and wide-eyed, just as Carson's voice booms from the entryway. "Hey, man! I'm back. Smells good in here--did you save me some?"
I'm busy raking a hand through my hair as Mabel sinks into the back of the couch, looking anywhere but at me. My heart is racing, and I can feel the heat still pulsing under my skin as Carson appears in the doorway.
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ANNE KEMP is a bestselling author of romantic comedies. She loves reading (and she does it ridiculously fast, too!), gluten-free baking (because everyone needs a hobby that makes them crazy), and finding time to binge-watch her favorite shows. She grew up in Maryland but made Los Angeles her home until she encountered her own real-life meet-cute at a friend's wedding where she ended up married to one of the groomsmen. For real.
Anne now lives on the Kapiti Coast in New Zealand, and even though she was married at Mt. Doom, no... she doesn't have a Hobbit. However, she and her husband do have a terrier named George Clooney and when she's not writing, she's usually with them taking a long walk on the river by their home.
You can find Anne on her website - come say hi! She'd love to hear from you.
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