Kate Willoughby

USA Today Bestselling Author

Across the Line, Audible, On The Surface

Books ‘N Exercise

I don’t think I was a dog in a former life because I don’t like walking, however, it is my main form of exercise. I make it go fast by listening to books. Music doesn’t really do it for me. It doesn’t engage my brain enough to make me forget I’m exercising. Books do.

So, a couple of years ago, I subscribed to Audible. Used to be that to listen to audiobooks, you bought a shit ton of cassette tapes, and then CDs, and they were really expensive. Now, not so much if you have an Audible subscription. And there’s no clutter. It’s all in a cloud or on your phone.

But here’s a bit of advice, listen to the free sample. Some narrators are better than others. I have had some terrific narrators. They can really make a good book fantastic. My favorite listen so far is Mr. Mercedes by Stephen King, narrated by Will Patton. RIVETING. An amazing 14 hours of five star entertainment. Listening to the sample really helps you make a decision on whether to buy.

The Audible app is very easy to use and one cool thing is, you can speed up the narration. I have bought my share of dud books. John Grisham, I’m looking at you for Sycamore Row. Good Lord, that book was boring. But because I had to find out what happened, I played it at two times the speed. Heh heh. Sometimes a narrator is very good, but too slow. That’s when I up it to 1.5 the speed.

Anyway, if your as addicted to fiction as I am (too many books, too little time), then multi-task your “reading” with your exercise.

You can try Audible and get two free audiobooks right now, and I highly recommend it, especially since my first two hockey romances, On the Surface and Across the Line are going to be Audible books this year. Get your subscription now so you’re all ready for them!

Across the Line, Carina Press, In The Zone Series, On The Surface, Reviews, San Diego Barracudas

The Big Day for Across the Line

It’s Release Day for Across the Line, book two of my In the Zone hockey romance series! It’s been so encouraging to see the book being pre-ordered. It makes me grateful for that anonymous back cover copy writer at Carina and the artist who gave me this sexier than sin cover. I am so excited.

Here are snippets from some early reviews:

“Willoughby’s second In the Zone contemporary sports romance (after On the Surface) is a real charmer.”
-Publishers Weekly


“With this second book in the series, this author just made my “auto-buy author” list!!” 
5 stars, Christi of Smitten With Reading

“As long as Kate Willoughby keeps writing, I will keep reading her wonderful books.”
– 4.5 stars, Steffi from Swept Away by Romance.

“Kate Willoughby’s writing is fantastic, her story is fast paced, fun and throws in a few laughs. I find myself not wanting the story to end…”
-4 stars, Jac of For Love and Books

“I enjoyed the book so much that I have gone back and purchased the first book in the series…”
-5 stars, Christine Mize

All you readers who pre-ordered, you should have already received the book. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for trusting I would tell you a good story. (Is the bird thing a stretch? Sorry. LOL)

Today, Tim Hollander will no longer be the only Barracuda swimming in the literary seas. (Sorry for the horrible metaphor. I’m a little tired from trying to make my deadline for book three.) He has a brother standing beside him. My plan is to keep writing hockey romances as long as it’s fun and I have new stories to tell. (Here are four guys from the LA Kings who are/were like brothers: Mike Richards, Drew Doughty, Dustin Penner who sadly is no longer a King, and Jeff Carter, recently married.)

In the pipeline is Alex Sullivan’s story, OUT OF THE GAME, book 3 of my In the Zone series. After that, I have ideas jotted down about Jason Locke’s story, and a few thousand words written about Dustin DeVries.

In the meantime, check out Calder Griffin and see how he makes it work (any Tim Gunn fans out there?) with Becca Chen. She’s an Asian restauranteur. He’s an NHL player returning to the ice after being injured. Committed to their jobs and with thousands of miles between them, they don’t stand a chance.

Photo credit: Tatiana Gerus and Prayitno via Wikimedia Commons

Chicago Blackhawks, Excerpts, Hockey, Hockey Book, On The Surface

Life Imitates Art, Part 2

I recently posted how real life events mirrored what I wrote in my first hockey romance, On the Surface. A Chicago Blackhawk got sick of the crap a fan was giving him in the penalty box, so he squirted some water at him. In my book, Tim was a Blackhawk who got angry at a heckler and threw a water bottle at him. Isn’t it weird? I wrote that scene over a year ago and here, it happens in real life.

I decided to share the scene with those who haven’t bought or read the book yet. This is from Chapter 2.

Tim shouldn’t have been surprised when no one recognized him during breakfast at the hotel restaurant. Hockey wasn’t venerated on the West Coast as much as it was in the east and in Canada, and San Diego loved their Padres and Chargers. He didn’t mind. It was actually a refreshing change. In Chicago, the Blackhawks were like royalty. It was rare that Tim went out in public without being recognized. He’d never really minded that much, but he had to admit it was nice to be able to finish a meal in a restaurant without being asked for an autograph.
After tipping generously, he left the Marriott and grabbed a taxi. The seats were torn and taped, and despite the little air freshener that hung from the rearview mirror, it had that distinctive taxi smell—musty leather, stale food, spilled coffee, cheap cologne and a side of body odor.
“Where to?” the cabby said, turning on the meter. Tim noted the name on the ID card, Umberto Garcia.
“The Cadillac dealership off 163. Here’s the address.” Tim handed him a MapQuest printout. Their destination was about half an hour away. Today he was getting himself a fully loaded Escalade SUV.
Garcia studied the printout. “No problem.” The cabby pulled out into traffic. “Late night last night?” the cabby asked.
Catching a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror, Tim winced. His eyes were redder than the glass of V-8 he’d downed earlier. He’d had so much on his mind, sleep had eluded him until the early morning hours. He had so much to prove and not nearly as much confidence as he would have liked. Usually the extreme physicality of his job wore him out, but training camp didn’t start for two months. The workout on the stationary bike yesterday hadn’t been nearly hard enough to knock him out at bedtime. He also had a personal appearance today, his first as a Barracuda, and he was nervous. And angry that he was nervous. What mattered was how well he played hockey, not how many fans wanted to meet him.
“No. I just didn’t sleep well,” Tim answered.The cabby accelerated as they got onto the freeway. “I thought the Marriott had good beds.”
“It’s not the bed. I just have a lot on my plate.”
“Don’t we all. Me, I got a thirteen-year-old daughter who thinks she’s seventeen. Looks like it too, when she puts on makeup.”
Tim nodded. “Makes you want to go buy a shotgun, huh?”
“You got that right.” Garcia met his eye in the rearview mirror. “What’s your biggest problem, man?”
Tim chuckled. “Where do I start?” He propped an ankle on his knee. “I got…transferred here from Chicago. So I’m one of the new guys on the block.”
“But there’s more than one new guy.”
“Yes. A good buddy of mine came here too, actually.”
“So that doesn’t sound like that big of a problemo. Next?”
“Management took a chance on me and are expecting a lot.”
“Can you do what they’re expecting?”
Tim shrugged. “I’m not as young as I used to be.” Garcia’s eyes flicked to the mirror. “What are you? Thirty? Jesus. Cut yourself a break.”
“Thirty-three. But in my line of work, thirty is practically over the hill.”
As they passed by Balboa Park and the San Diego Zoo, Garcia asked the forty thousand dollar question. “What’s your line of work?”
“I play hockey.”
Garcia twisted his head to glance back. “No shit! Pro hockey, of course. That explains the Barracuda hat.”
“Are you a fan?”
“Sorry. No. Baseball’s my game.”
Figured.
“Yeah.” Tim touched the brim of his cap. “I’m a Barracuda.”
Garcia chuckled as he tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. “No shit. You’re a pro. So when you said transferred, you really meant traded.”
“Yes.”
“What’s your name, man? People sometimes ask what famous people I’ve driven and I’d like to add your name to the list.”
“Tim Hollander. I play right wing. I’m a forward.”
“That’s offense, right?”
Tim laughed. So did Garcia.
“Hell, I told you baseball’s my game.”
“Yeah, forwards are offense.”
They continued on the 163 through a large interchange. The signs said they were in Mission Valley now.Tim relaxed,knowing this guy wasn’t going to hassle him about his performance last season or ask about Bottlegate. They talked some more. Garcia was easy to talk to. Part of the job, Tim figured. Cabbies were probably a lot like bartenders, but with wheels. Oddly, the more they talked, the more Tim felt like unloading and he ended up telling Garcia about Bottlegate anyway.
“Wait a second,” Garcia said. “Let me get this straight. The guy actually said that your daughter was better off dead than having a father like you?”
“Yes,” Tim said. The Philly fan had actually said much more than that while Tim had sat in the penalty box. He hadn’t shut up for a full minute, criticizing Tim’s play, or lack thereof, and eventually getting personal.
“What an asshole.”
“Thing is, my daughter had died only a few weeks before that.”
Silence.
“She died?”
“Yeah. Leukemia.”
“Shit, man.” Garcia met Tim’s gaze briefly in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry to hear that. Really sorry. That’s fucked.”
“Thanks.” Tim gave him the tight-lipped smile he always did when people offered their sympathy.
A few moments passed. “You know what, man? I admire your restraint. I probably would have done a lot more than hit him with a water bottle. I’d probably have killed the guy.”
“I wanted to. Believe me.”
By this time, they were exiting the freeway.
“Well, Tim—can I call you Tim?”
Tim waved a hand.
“Tim, I have feeling things are going to turn around for you,” Garcia said. “I think you’re a determined guy and whatever you put your mind to, you’re gonna do. When’s the season start?”
“Regular season starts in early September.”
“Well, tell you what. You train like hell and you do whatever you have to do to become part of that team, because I’ll be watching that first game. You’re gonna hit a grand slam, or whatever it is in hockey.”
“A hat trick. That’s three goals in one game.”
“A hat trick, then. I’ll be rooting for you.” They pulled up in front of the dealership.

Tim pulled a hundred out of his wallet to pay the fifty-three dollar charge. He also made note of the cab number for later. “Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence. It means a lot. Keep the change.”

Photo credit: Theron W. Henderson

Anaheim Ducks, Boston Bruins, Chicago Blackhawks, Hockey, In The Zone Series, Jeff Carter, Los Angeles Kings, New York Rangers, NHL, On The Surface

A Real Life Bottlegate!

Look at the bottom left of the photo

I’m taking recent events in the NHL as a sign from God that I’m on the right track. My first hockey novel, On the Surface, features a former Blackhawk who is traded to the San Diego Barracudas because of an incident with a fan involving a water bottle.

Now, keep that in mind as I tell you that this spring, the water bottle has been the weapon of choice for NHL players.

Corey Perry of the Anaheim Ducks sprayed water into the glove of one of “My Guys”, Jeff Carter.

Shawn Thornton of the Boston Bruins sprayed the visor of Montreal Canadien PK Subban.

And finally Henrik Lundqvist of the New York Rangers gave Pittsburgh Penguin Sidney Crosby a little mid-game shower.

It’s like an epidemic. It’s harmless really. It doesn’t hurt anyone (except wimps, as you’ll see below). It’s just annoying. However, so far the hydro-taunting has been player vs. player. A few days ago, that changed.

Corey Crawford of the Chicago Blackhawks got fed up with a heckler–JUST LIKE IN MY BOOK–and sprayed water into the face of the heckler–JUST LIKE IN MY BOOK!

Well, that last part isn’t quite accurate. The back cover copy, over which I had only minimal input, says Tim threw the water bottle at a fan. In reality, I never fully describe what Tim Hollander does to the fan with his water bottle.

But still!

What are the chances that real life incidents almost completely mirror what I wrote a year ago? Like I said, I take it as a sign from God that my time has come and I’m on the right track. I also bask in the knowledge that what I wrote is utterly believable and possible in the real NHL.

It feels pretty damn good.

The LA fan (yes, he was rooting for LA. ) claims his eyes were irritated by the saliva backwash–from the type of bottle that squirts from a spout. He’s filed a police report. What do you think about that? Feel free to comment.

Photo credit: Paul Sakuma, AP

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