The next book in the Vancouver Vice series is Mr. November, the story of Marty Devonshire.

He’s the feared tough guy of the Vancouver Vice, yet he’s afraid to make a move on a petite woman. It will be up to all his teammates—and Knightley the cat—to convince Marty that he should take a chance on love.

“I heard there’s gonna be hot chicks there. Like a Victoria’s Secret catalogue photo shoot, right?” Nate Jones said from the back seat of the SUV.

Marty Devonshire scowled into the rear-view mirror at his roommate. “You’ve taken too many hits to the head, Jonesy. Amanda explained everything at the meeting. It’s a calendar for charity, and there are no women involved at all.”

Jonesy groaned. “Da fuck? I’m giving up my off day to hang out with cripples or something. I missed the meeting, and the Bod told me there was going to be some hot pussy there.”

Eric Fairburn was riding shotgun. He and Marty began laughing uncontrollably. Finally, Burner turned around and explained, “Dude. It’s pussy-cats. We’re shooting photos with actual cats.”

Jonesy collapsed against the seat in disgust. “Cats? I’m more of a dog person.”

“You don’t have to adopt them,” Marty said. “All you have to do is hold one for a few minutes while you get photographed. Anyway, it’s an honour to go—they only asked twelve guys.” Marty wasn’t sure exactly why he got chosen, since the other guys were the best players on the team. But he was the team enforcer, and being a tough guy was popular with the fans.

Anyway, he was happy to do this. He had had a cat the whole time he was growing up. His mom decreed that cats were the right pets for a working woman because they were low maintenance. Marty hated coming home to an empty house, so it had been great that Cleo was there. She zoomed out to greet him the moment she heard the key in the front door. He would make a snack for himself and give Cleo a treat too. She was a little black cat and on the plump side.

Although he’d never admit it now, Marty used to tell Cleo about his day at school. She sat on the chair beside him and purred like she was listening to everything. He figured she got lonely too, since she was a sociable cat. She sat beside him on the couch while he gamed or watched TV. And Marty was the only one who was allowed to rub the soft fur on her tummy.

Marty missed having a cat. He had suggested they get one, but Jonesy said pets were too much work. The GPS signalled a turn, and he pulled into the parking lot of a low flat-roofed building in an industrial part of East Van. There was a tiny sign on the door with the initials V.I.C.E. It didn’t look like a regular animal shelter.

“Why did we have to come all the way out here?” Jonesy bitched. “They should have brought the cats to the rink or something.”

Marty shook his head. “Cats are territorial. They’d be freaking out in a new place.”

Jonesy snickered. “Cats freaking out on ice. That would be a calendar worth seeing.”

“Guys, you made it,” Amanda said happily as they walked in. Did she think they weren’t going to show? “We’re all ready for you.”

She led them through the building. They had converted a large main room into a photo studio, with a big white backdrop. There were lights everywhere. This was a bigger deal then he’d expected. Todd Walker was perched on a stool, with an enormous orange tabby on his lap. The player looked uncomfortable, but the cat was completely relaxed.

“Hey, Todd the Bod! Did they make you put a shirt on?” Jonesy called out. Todd had gotten his nickname because he took such pride in his ripped physique. Todd scowled at them, and the camera flashed at that moment.

When they got to the temporary dressing room, there was a rolling rack with Vancouver Vice gear on it. Not jerseys, but logo t-shirts, sweat pants, and caps. And there was a makeup artist, a woman with three shades of pink in her hair.

“Makeup? Isn’t that kinda....”

Luckily, Jonesy didn’t finish that sentence because a thin man waltzed into the room at that moment. “The next course of beefcake has arrived? Wonderful. I’m Carter Oberon. I’m styling this event.”

Amanda made the introductions. “Eric Fairburn, Marty Devonshire, and Nate Jones.”

“Well, gosh. Let’s start with Eric,” Carter said with a big smile. Burner was a good-looking mofo. Usually it was women who went all gaga over him though. As he sat down in the makeup chair, Jonesy whispered to Marty, “Do I have to wear makeup? I’m not real comfortable with that.”

Marty liked Jonesy, who had just joined the team this season. He was easygoing and cheerful, which made him a great roommate. Jonesy was a rookie, and he had come straight from being an overage junior hockey player. He was a decent player, but he didn’t have a ton of life experience.

“You need makeup to look good under all those bright lights,” Marty explained. “You’ll look hotter. The chicks’ll be like—” he raised his voice to a falsetto. “‘Oh, Nate weren’t you Mr. November? You looked so cute!’ You’ll be famous.”

“Dope. You’re right, chicks will be totally into this stuff.” Jonesy was fixated on scoring with women, which got old quick.

“And the cat will be the icing on the cake. Women love cats.”

Jonesy nodded. “Okay! Bring it on.”

Carter had been eavesdropping, and now he walked over. “We’ll have you looking so hot, your momma won’t recognize you. And meantime, practice your smizing!”

“Smizing?”

“Yes, like Tyra. You smile with your eyes only.”

Jonesy attempted this but only succeeded in looking constipated. Clearly, he had never seen the Tyra Banks show.

“Like this.” Marty put one hand on his hip, made his mouth a straight line, and half-closed his eyes.

“I think that’s Blue Steel,” said Carter.

Just then, a young Asian woman walked in.

Jonesy sucked in his breath. “Thought you guys said no ladies. That’s one fine lady.”

She was beautiful. She was petite with long, dark hair tucked onto one side. Her eyes were big with dark lashes, and her lips looked... tasty. She had a great body too—a tiny waist, flaring hips, and a bust prominent even under her jean shirt. Marty realized he was still doing the ridiculous Zoolander pose and dropped his arm.

She smiled at all of them and asked Carter, “What kind of cat would you like next?”

Jonesy was muttering something about pussy, but Marty ignored him. Who was she? Not only was she amazing looking, but she was the kind of person who worked for an animal shelter. He had a pain in his chest and suddenly heard his grandfather’s voice, “When I met your grandmother—bang—it hit me right in the heart. When you know, you know.” As a kid, Marty thought that was crazy, but right now he could hardly breathe.

Want to read more? Mr. November is available.