Cocky Pucking Orc

Book 2: Orcs on Ice

by Debra Dunbar

Genres: Paranormal; Paranormal Romance; Sports Romance

Synopsis

Hockey is better when the home team has green skin, tusks, and a mission to find human brides – willing human brides, because kidnapping wenches from a village is a thing of the past.

Eng has some very specific criteria for the female he plans to marry. She needs to be the perfect figurehead of a princess whose only requirements will be standing in silence at court appearances and bearing him children. He's not particularly interested in a wife or family right now, but Eng has known his responsibilities since birth. Besides, it shouldn't be that difficult to find a human bride for a rich, handsome, orc prince destined to be king one day, right?

Wrong. None of the females Eng encounters meet his lofty standards or seem interested in marrying an orc, even if he is royalty. Worse, it's become impossible to search for a suitable bride when his every waking moment is consumed with unquenchable desire for a very un-suitable female.

Willa is done dating bad boys. Done. But she can't resist a quickie with an infuriatingly arrogant orc hockey player after the Baltimore Tusk's inaugural game. Then her one-and-done turns into a series of hook-ups, overnights, and even a date, and Willa finds herself once more falling for the wrong guy.

An orc whose inflated ego hides a throne-room full of vulnerability.
An outspoken, confident personal trainer with hidden insecurities of her own.
It's lust at first sight in this paranormal rom-com featuring the new NHL team The Baltimore Tusks

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Release date: December 25, 2025

Print pages: 337

Sample

1 WILLA I didn’t need three beers to give me courage. I was born with courage. At least where one-night stands were concerned. Courage in other aspects of my life was sadly lacking. But my friends and I were in a bar having tracked down the watering hole of The Tusks, and instead of shooting our shot, we were all huddled at a table, sending the muscle-bound orcs who made up Baltimore’s new hockey team admiring side glances. “Screw it.” I got up from my chair, avoiding my friend Jordan’s hastily outstretched hand, and sauntered up to the orcs at the bar. We’d just watched them suffer an epic loss at tonight’s game, and while I normally took a dim view of losing at sports, I couldn’t really fault these guys. They clearly had been tossed into this NHL team not knowing the game or even how to skate. In spite of that, they’d not only managed to put one in the Red Wing’s net, they’d come out on top of a pretty awesome fight in the second half. Which wasn’t surprising, since they were orcs. Jordan had met one of them going back to her car to drop off her jacket, and she’d been pretty flustered and flushed over the encounter. So I’d dragged my friends here partly to see Jordan squirm and partly to get an eyeful of these dudes up close. I was glad I had. Up close, they were even more impressive than they’d been at a distance on the ice during the game. At five foot eleven, I wasn’t exactly small, but next to these orcs I felt downright petite. And the muscles… I had a thing for muscles—mostly because of my job as a personal trainer. “Hey boys!” I called out as I approached the orcs. “Great fight tonight. You might not have won the game, but you beat the snot out of those Red Wings.” The four turned around to look at me. Ozar, the one Jordan clearly had a thing for, slid his gaze from me to where my friend sat. I bit back a smile, feeling a little like Cupid. Jordan hadn’t had the best luck with boyfriends, and in the last year she’d abandoned any efforts at dating to focus on her career. The girl needed some male affection, and from the way the orc was looking at her, he was absolutely ready to lavish all sorts of attention on her. “Fight or not, we lost,” the largest of the four grunted. I shrugged. “It’s the first game of the season. I’m sure you’ll take home the win next time.” The orcs stared at me in disbelief. I didn’t believe it either, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Rah-rah, go team, you’ll win next time, and all that stuff. Part of my job involved encouraging my clients because if they didn’t believe they could achieve their 

goals, they weren’t likely to apply the effort necessary to get there. “I’m not interested in winning. I’m not here to win this stupid game or to even play this stupid game.” It wasn’t the super-bulky orc that spoke, or the lean one who’d been consumed by his cell phone, or Ozar who was paying no attention to me and focusing completely on Jordan. It was a muscular, clean shaven orc with short, dark hair—the one who’d propped up the wall the entire game rather than making even a small attempt at supporting his team. In a weird way I admired him. Rather than make a fool of himself trying to play a game he didn’t know against elite athletes who’d been on the ice since they could walk, he’d just refused. I’d dug in my heels plenty in my life, choosing to honor my beliefs and personal goals over my family’s and society’s expectations. That sort of stubborn rebellion appealed to me. And this orc’s gorgeous dark eyes, his angular jaw, and the defined muscles in his arms appealed to me as well. “Let me buy you a drink and you can tell me what does interest you.” It was a flat-out come-on, but the orc didn’t seem interested. “I have a drink,” he informed me. Okay, maybe this was a language issue and not necessarily a rejection. I waved a hand over to our table. “Come sit with us. We’d love to buy you all a round.” Ozar was up and across the pub in a shot. The leaner orc with the cell phone addiction was hot on his heels. The bulky guy and the rebel were a little slower to follow, but they did finally get up and make their way to our table. Ozar eagerly grabbed a seat next to Jordan while the other three stared at the chairs a few seconds before carefully choosing. I ended up sandwiched between the rebel orc who’d propped up a wall the entirety of the game and the other long-haired, muscle-bound one. And I do mean sandwiched. These seats and tables weren’t meant for huge orcs so thighs, shoulders, and arms cadged me into my seat, constantly brushing against me as the hockey players shifted uncomfortably. It absolutely was turning me on. Which was kinda weird. I liked knowing I was on a physically even playing field with nearly every guy I dated, but any one of these orcs could toss me over their shoulder and haul me off to their lair like I was some helpless damsel. The idea left me feeling a strange mixture of nervous and excited. Jordan’s orc had immediately engaged her in conversation. Abby seemed to have built an instant rapport with the leaner one sitting next to her. But me? I’d ended up with two hot dudes who stared moodily into their pint glasses without the slightest attempt to engage me in conversation. A challenge? Well, then, challenge accepted. Einee, meanie, miney, moe… “You said you weren’t interested in hockey. What are you interested in?” I asked the rebel orc. He grunted, not replying. “So…nothing? You didn’t have any hobbies back home? Throwing tree trunks across a pasture? Playing trombone in a jazz band? Embroidery?” He grunted. Again. And his lack of response was beginning to annoy me. “How do you like Baltimore so far?” I was running out of small-talk topics. My next attempt might have to involve the weather. He shrugged. “It is a city. Like any other human city.” Okay. Weather it was. “We’ve been having a rather warm fall so far. The Farmer’s Almanac says not to expect much in the way of snow this year. How are winters in your homeland?” He grunted. It totally pissed me off. He’d replied with a couple of short sentences, so I knew he at least understood enough English to carry on the bare minimum of a polite conversation. I considered switching to the orc on the other side of me, but he seemed even less inclined to exchange social niceties. And I didn’t want to switch. I wouldn’t give the rebel orc the satisfaction of thinking he’d won in our battle of non-words. “Do you know how to skate?” I asked him, my tone downright combative. “No.” That was it. Just “no.” And my not-so-subtle attempt to get a rise out of the guy fell completely flat. He clearly didn’t care, but just in case, I tried again. “Do you know how to play hockey?” “No.” 

I waited a bit, but no further elaboration or explanation came. Normally people abhorred a silence and would attempt to fill it, but rebel-orc didn’t seem interested in speaking more than a monosyllable, and buff, man-bun orc could be mute for all I could tell. “Then why the hell are you on a hockey team?” I put some angry demand into that question, making it my personal mission to get this guy to say more than no. He grunted. In retaliation I snatched his pint glass and drank the small amount of beer left in it. “Seriously. You don’t know how to skate or play hockey, and from what I saw tonight you don’t seem to be interested in learning to do either. Why are you on the team? And more to the point, why hasn’t the owner fired your ass yet?” He turned to face me and I’ll admit I shivered a little at the glint in his dark eyes. “I do not care what the owner does. I will not play this stupid game. I will not be a fool for the humans’ entertainment.” His accent was pronounced, hinting at a guttural first-language with lots of consonants and fiery emotion. I was a sucker for accents, and honestly I admired his stance, especially after watching the game tonight. “Okay. Then get another job,” I advised. He grunted again. “There is no need. I will be gone soon.” I flagged down our server and motioned for her to bring another round, because this was a story I wanted to hear. “Didn’t you all just get here? Are we humans too much for you that you’re tucking tail and running home so soon?” Instead of a grunt, this time the orc snarled. “Eng, son of Mrong, grandson of Ewghalan, great-grandson of Mokhang, prince of the Kingdom of Waragur does not run home like a coward. I am not afraid of humans. And I do not have a tail.” Well then. A prince. Prince Eng. La dee da. “It’s good to meet you, Eng. I’m Willa Filipkowski. He grunted. Great we were back to grunting once more. “But you said you were going home soon. Why are you here if you hate it so much? Why not go home now?” His scowl grew more menacing. It was so damned hot. “The only reason I am here in this world is to find a human female suitable to be my bride.” My stupid heart skipped a beat, and suddenly I was back in my childhood with dreams of a prince charming sweeping me off my feet and making me his adored princess. I’d thought those dreams had vanished with puberty and the harsh reality of the dating world, but I guess dreams never truly went away. “She must be fertile, meek, and obedient,” Eng continued. “She will have as many of my offspring as her womb can bear, appear at public events, and otherwise stay in her quarters.” Fuck that. My dreams vanished at his words. “And what are you bringing to the table in this marriage?” I drawled. He missed my sarcasm, and his chest puffed out with pride as he replied. “This female will be a princess. Our children will rule the kingdom. She will have the best of clothing and jewels, and live in comfort as the mother of the royal orclets.” Jesus, that sounded horrible. “I’m not meek and obedient,” I pointed out. I would have added not-fertile, but I was being honest here and I had no idea about my fertility. If I took after the rest of my family, I most certainly was fertile, but I wasn’t about to give this guy any ideas. “I noticed that.” Oooo. Sick burn. Dude was an asshole, but maybe he wasn’t an idiot. “Then we are in agreement that I am not a princess candidate.” I picked up the full pint glass that the server had delivered to me. After a second of hesitation he did the same. “Agreed.” We drank. And I noticed that his gaze lingered on my lips as I licked the foam from them. Princess was out of the question, but there was an intense attraction going on here. Strangely, it had only grown since we’d begun this verbal sparring. It wasn’t just on my end either. I’d caught him eyeing my chest, and his leg was most definitely pressing harder against mine than was necessary. No more bad boys. No more throwing my heart at guys who were only destined to break it. I had a type, and that type had failed me over and over and over. 

After the last breakup, I’d promised myself to only get involved with men where there was a possibility for something long-term. At thirty I was ready for a relationship, maybe even shacking up together, if not marriage. This orc beside me was not relationship material. But maybe he was one-and-done material. I wasn’t averse to enjoying a one-night stand. If Eng-the-prince was up for a quick roll in the sheets, then I wasn’t going to say no. Fun was fun, and I wasn’t a nun. Jordan had given up on flings, and had a set of rules concerning sports figures, musicians, and actors, but I had no such reservations. Life was short, and if some hot guy wanted to bump uglies, then I was ready and willing. And from the look in Eng’s dark eyes, he was ready and willing too. But clearly the orc had too much of a stick up his ass to suggest it. Time to remove the stick from his ass. “Are you a betting man…orc?” I asked. He frowned. “A wager. A contest.” I nodded toward the bar. “Shots. And whoever calls uncle first loses.” The frown deepened. “Your uncle is here and wants to challenge me to an archery contest?” Oh for fuck’s sake. “Each of us drinks as many glasses of liquor as we can. Whoever gives up first loses.” Understanding dawned in his eyes. “What does the winner get?” I grinned, placing my hand on his thigh. “The winner gets whatever they want.” ...