Also by this author: Power Play, Interference
She closed her heart long ago. He just wants to open her mind. For fans of Toni Aleo and Sawyer Bennett, the debut of Sophia Henry’s red-hot Detroit Pilots series introduces a hockey team full of complicated men who fight for love.Auden Berezin is used to losing people: her father, her mother, her first love. Now, just when she believes those childhood wounds are finally healing, she loses something else: the soccer scholarship that was her ticket to college. Scrambling to earn tuition money, she’s relieved to find a gig translating for a Russian minor-league hockey player—until she realizes that he’s the same dangerously sexy jerk who propositioned her at the bar the night before.Equal parts muscle and scar tissue, Aleksandr Varenkov knows about trauma. Maybe that’s what draws him to Auden. He also lost his family too young, and he channeled the pain into his passions: first hockey, then vodka and women. But all that seems to just melt away the instant he kisses Auden and feels a jolt of desire as sudden and surprising as a hard check on the ice.After everything she’s been through, Auden can’t bring herself to trust any man, let alone a hot-headed puck jockey with a bad reputation. Aleksandr just hopes she’ll give him a chance—long enough to prove he’s finally met the one who makes him want to change.
Wow-this wasn’t what I expected at all (in a great way!). First, Auden is an amazing character. She is smart and driven and is so aware of her shortcomings and issues. And Alex is just the most amazing sports start book boyfriend. I am really over the man whore athlete trope in books and I was slightly afraid that this book would follow that path. I was thrilled to find out that Alex was not only NOT a manwhore but he was open and loving and not an alpha asshole! I am so excited to have a sports related book that isn’t about sleeping with anything that moves and being a douche. The more I think about it, the more I am glad books like this get written! We need more stories like this-with good people who have issues and talk about them instead of jumping in to bed! Thank goodness for Sophia Henry! I can’t wait to read more from her!
Sophia Henry, a proud Detroit native, fell in love with reading, writing, and hockey all before she became a teenager. She did not, however, fall in love with snow. So after graduating with an English degree from Central Michigan University, she moved to North Carolina, where she spends her time writing books featuring hockey-playing heroes, chasing her two high-energy sons, watching her beloved Detroit Red Wings, and rocking out at concerts with her husband.
1. The Russian language and a bit of Russian culture plays a big part in Delayed Penalty. So, do you speak Russian? What made you decide to make the characters Russian?
I took Russian for two years in college. Unfortunately, I’ve forgotten almost everything. I can say “My name is Sophia.” and “Very good.” Lol. I made the characters Russian because I’ve been fascinated by the Russian culture and language since the late 80’s-early 90’s when Russian hockey players began playing in the NHL. I may have been a little obsessed. 🙂
2. What can you tell us about book 2, Power Play?
Power Play is the story of Pilots Defenseman, Landon Taylor, who is also Aleksandr’s best friend and roommate. There are some twists in the Taylor family dynamic that readers learn in Delayed Penalty. Power Play is told through the eyes of Gabriella Bertucci, the heroine. She has an interesting family dynamic, as well. I hope readers love Gaby and Landon as much as I do!
3. How do you create your characters? Are they based on people you know, dreams you had, famous people, etc?
All of them are based on people I know in some way. Auden has hints of me, all of my heroine’s do. Aleksandr was inspired by retired hockey player, Sergei Fedorov, with the hair style of current The 1975 frontman Matty Healy, because I’m obsessed. One of the secondary characters, Drew, was inspired by a guy I had a crush on in grade school. None of my characters are completely autobiographical or biographical, but they are inspired by real people and real life.
4. If you could collaborate with any other author, who would it be and why?
So many. So, so many. I’m going to age myself here and say I’d love to collaborate with Martin Cruz Smith. Gorky Park, starring fictional investigator, Arkady Renko, was one of the first books I read with a Russian protagonist (that wasn’t Russian literature). I love every book in the Renko series. Maybe one of my Russian hockey player heroes could be involved in some shady Russian mafia stuff and Arkady Renko has to sort it all out? Is Mr. Cruz-Smith with Random House?? Can this happen?? 🙂
5. What is one thing your readers would be surprised to know about you?
I’m not sure this is a surprise, but I’m a really bad cook. So bad, that I once had a fire engine race to my house with sirens blaring because my cooking set off the fire alarm and I missed the “is this really an emergency?” call that comes from my alarm company before they alert the Fire Department. I was too busy fanning the smoke alarm! Everything was fine. My husband explained the situation to the Firefighters and we brought them breakfast the next morning as an “I’m so sorry” and “Thank you” gift!!!
6. Favorites! Tell us your favorite thing in each category below:
a. Food: Sour Patch Kids count as food, right?
b. TV show: Game of Thrones
c. Actor: Alexander Skarsgard
d. Actress: Jennifer Lawrence
e. Beverage: Pepsi
f. Place to vacation: Anywhere. I love to travel.
g. Book: Tie: The Bronze Horeseman by Paullina Simons and The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
h. Author: Cora Carmack, Richelle Mead, Jeri Smith-Ready, (I’m a YA freak) Martin Cruz Smith,
i. Song/Band/Artist: I love music. Current Obsessions: The 1975 & The Arctic Monkeys
Thanks so much for doing this interview! I really loved the book and can’t wait to read book 2!
Thank you!!! I appreciate you hosting me on your blog!
“Hey,” someone said, tapping my shoulder. I spun around to see the karaoke host.
“Greg.” He thrust his hand at me.
“Auden,” I said, taking his outstretched palm. “Thanks for switching songs.”
“Tina Turner didn’t seem like your thing.” Greg might’ve had a cute face hiding under his beard. Still not my type, though. Too monotone. Even the plaid flannel hanging off his lean frame was brown. His style screamed Eddie Vedder, nineties grunge rather than today’s hipster cool.
“Oh, I can rock some Tina. Just wasn’t feeling ‘Proud Mary’ without my backup dancers.” I pointed to Kristen and Lacy.
Greg laughed. “Need a drink?”
“I already have—” I searched the table for my drink, spotting it in Lacy’s boyfriend’s hand. “Actually, I do.”
Ignoring Kristen’s megawatt smile, I followed Greg to the bar. She better not have set him on me to boost my spirits. She knew he wasn’t my type. Douche bags like Crazy Hair and the guys he’d flipped off got my motor running. Douche bags and I were on the same wavelength. Neither of us wanted more than the other could offer.
Greg moved to the side so I could order. “Club soda with three limes, please.”
“And a Steam Whistle.” Greg pointed to a beer I didn’t recognize in the stand-up cooler behind the bar. The bartender nodded and extracted a bottle.
“You’ve got a killer voice,” Greg said.
“Well, there’re no Tina Turner–type vocals in that song.” I blew off his compliment.
“No, but it’s hard to sing that soft and keep your key.” His mouth curved into a wide, kind smile. “You from around here?”
“Detroit,” I said, nodding. “But I go to Central State.”
“Are you kidding?”
I shook my head and picked up the drink the bartender had placed in front of me.
“So do I. That’s crazy.” Greg held up a few bills, waiting until the bartender saw the money before setting it on the bar. “My roommates and I have a band and we’re looking for a singer right now.”
“You’re in a band? That’s awesome,” I said, focused on mashing the limes in my drink. I raised my glass to him. “Thank you, by the way.”
“No problem.” He picked at the label on his beer bottle. “Any interest?”
“In what?” I asked, looking at Greg over the top of my cup.
“Singing for our band.” He didn’t even blink.
“You’re joking, right?” I laughed. Asking me to sing in his band after hearing one karaoke song was hilarious. I’d never taken voice lessons, and as far as I knew, I didn’t have any significant talent.
“Why would I joke?” He didn’t seem to understand my laughter at all.
“I just sang in public for the first time and you’re asking me if I want to be in a band?” Being the center of attention for five minutes in a karaoke bar was one thing; standing on stage in front of people expecting a show was a different beast.
“So that explains your lack of stage presence,” Greg said as he ran his fingers over his beard, looking more English professor than rocker.
“Quite the charmer, aren’t you, G-man?” I took a drink. I knew I didn’t have stage presence. Hell, I didn’t make eye contact.
“Stage presence can be learned,” he said. “You have a great voice and a hot look.”
Once I realized he wasn’t kidding, I was speechless.
Greg continued peeling the label off his beer bottle as he waited for me to speak. “It’s nothing crazy. We just play bars in Bridgeland, well, mostly at Wreckage.” He chuckled.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, but thanks for asking.” I forced a half smile.
“Come on,” he pleaded. “Just try out. If you like it, great.”
“I don’t think I could even learn to be comfortable on stage.”
“I can get you over your stage fright.” Greg’s voice was molasses, thick and smooth; a contrast to his grunge-hipster vibe. The lights flickering above gave his previously plain eyes a sensuous sparkle as he waited for my answer.
Why did I have to be a sucker for sparkles? “Okay, sure.” My head bobbed in reluctant consent. “The worst that could happen is I fail miserably, right?”
“You might surprise me.” Greg winked. He searched the bar before grabbing a pen lying on an abandoned credit card receipt. Then he flipped over a coaster advertising some brewing company’s winter ale and began scribbling. “Here’s my number. Call me next week for an audition.”
“This is crazy.” I took the coaster from him.
“What do you have to lose?” His eyes were solid and intense as he stared at me.
Nothing. I’d long since lost it all. But he didn’t know that.
Without another word, he walked away, leaving me alone at the bar, perplexed by the interaction.
“What did Eddie Vedder’s son have to say?” Kristen asked, nodding toward Greg, who had resumed his place behind the karaoke machine. Of course Kristen would think of a similar description for his look. It was one of the many reasons we’d been calling each other the “other half” since the first day of freshman year when we were assigned the same dorm room.
“He wants to me to try out for his band,” I said, flashing her the coaster. “Which is stupid.”
“No it isn’t.” She snatched my hand and squeezed. “You’re really good.”
I shook my head. Right now I was high from my time on stage and the applause and compliments I’d received, but as soon as I got home and thought about the unexpected conclusion to my soccer career again, the euphoria would abandon me. Just like my team had.
Just like everyone does.
“You’re a popular lady tonight. The Mohawked hottie stared at you the entire time you talked to karaoke guy.”
I followed Kristen’s gaze to the table where Crazy Hair and his friends were sitting. Though the group seemed to be leaving, downing their drinks and grabbing their coats, Crazy Hair stood still, his penetrating eyes on me.
I had a feeling he was the type of guy who would say anything to get me to take him home, and then slink away without a word the next morning. Though drinking had usually been involved when that had happened, I couldn’t even blame the alcohol. I fell for guys like him because I needed the attention. I needed to feel like someone wanted me. I needed to pretend that someone might be able to love me.
The way parents should have loved me.
It was an impossible void to fill.
Crazy Hair slid one of the muscular arms I’d admired earlier around the shoulders of the girl with the tight red sweater. She had big everything. Big hair, big boobs, big smile. Still holding my gaze, he said something against her ear, and she threw her head back in a laugh revealing big white teeth. Moving his hand to her back, he allowed her to go first as they followed the rest of the group toward the door.
Which reminded me of another definition of : to dominate, crush, or otherwise humiliate the opposition.