An actor hoping to fix his bad-boy reputation and a professional figure skater determined to win an ice-skating show begrudgingly team up in this sizzling, grumpy/sunshine romance.
“Romantic, spicy, and laugh-out-loud funny.”—Lana Ferguson, USA Today bestselling author
Luca Vasvault thought he was finished with show business. A former child star now labeled the disgraced has-been of Hollywood, he moved to the UK to care for his dying mother. But an opportunity surfaces that Luca can’t resist—the leading role in a remake of his mother’s favorite film. The catch? He needs to straighten out his image first.
His agent has the perfect plan to win the public’s vote: sign Luca up for Stars on Ice, a figure skating competition in which celebrities are paired with professionals. To give him his best shot at redemption, Luca is partnered with the show’s sweetheart, Matilda Stevens, a woman known for her unwavering composure, whistle-clean record, and winning smile.
Competitive figure skating was always Matilda’s mother’s passion, not hers. Secretly, she hates the show, and the last thing she needs is to spend sixteen weeks with Hollywood’s most notorious bad boy. Especially when Luca seems determined to make her life miserable with his surly attitude and annoyingly handsome-even-when-scowling face. But victory comes with prize money that will let Matilda quit Stars on Ice once and for all.
With everything on the line, the two strike a deal: They will cast their differences aside and put on the showmance of a lifetime, both on and off the ice. After all, they’re both performers for a living. How hard can it be?
Release date:
April 7, 2026
Publisher:
Dell
Print pages:
368
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“We don’t want to hear any complaints about partner assignments,” Mark, the executive producer, declared, running a hand through his light hair. “They won’t be changed, so don’t waste your breath.”
I glanced around the large white conference room, trying to gauge everyone’s reactions to his not-so-subtle dig. The twelve of us were split across three round tables, arranging ourselves so those friendliest were together.
At the table next to me, Sammy and Sara exchanged a look that spoke a thousand words, and I smiled. The sisters always had something to say about the celebrities they were—or weren’t—partnered with. At least for the last four years since I’d been there. They’d been on the show for nine years, so perhaps their veteran status made them cocky. I admired their confidence.
The other skaters looked marginally bored as they sipped their morning coffees.
“As it’s the tenth anniversary, the channel has extended our budget,” Mark continued, igniting a round of whispers. “Stop your gossiping and allow me to finish.” At his authoritative tone, silence engulfed the room.
“As I was saying, they’ve extended our budget, which means we have bigger celebrities on the show this year. It needs to be the best show yet, and it’s down to you all to ensure that happens. Got it?”
Mark’s penchant for dramatic monologues, clearly fueled by a general unhappiness with his life, was familiar to all the skaters and crew on Stars on Ice. Considering the amount the producers received for half a year’s work, they should have been singing and dancing onto the set. Or at least cracking smiles to put those perfect white veneers to good use. But alas, they acted as if they’d drop dead if they showed so much as an ounce of warmth toward us.
“Right, I’ll announce the partners and send the celebrity briefing folders to your dressing rooms. Study them before meeting them. Hear that, Nate? We do not need a repeat of last year.”
Nate had the decency to blush. “I didn’t realize it was a crime to celebrate a high score.”
Mark gave him a pointed look.
“What?”
“It’s not a crime to celebrate a win, Nate,” Mark deadpanned. “But it is frowned upon to spray a magnum of champagne over your partner when they’re a recovering alcoholic.”
I tapped my fingers on my thigh, eager and nervous to find out our partners for the season.
I didn’t know whether to take my previous partnering choices as a compliment or an insult. I was basically the easy option for the agents and PR teams who wanted their C-list celebrity clients to have a bit of TV airtime—they knew there wouldn’t be any scandalous affairs, public blowouts, or anything that would land the celebrities in the headlines. Because I made an effort to be a moderately nice human being, I ended up with partners who were fine cruising the competition and never really putting in the work, so I never made it past week six.
Which disappointed my mother no end.
Mark coughed and flicked through his pages. When I first met Mark, I’d found his dirty-blond hair, blue eyes, and boy-next-door charm gorgeous and charismatic, so much so that we’d dated for a year just before my third season on the show. Safe to say, that had definitely passed. Working with him since our breakup had been pretty testing, especially since he seemed to go out of his way to try to get under my skin in any way possible.
“In no particular order, the partners are as follows . . .” he started, listing the professional skaters and their respective celebrity partners, most of their names ringing a bell as I could picture them from the tabloids or TV.
“Grace, you’re with Tony Faraway.” I recognized his name but didn’t know much else about him. That was why the briefing documents were essential before meeting your partner—there was nothing worse than a celebrity with a bruised ego before you’d even begun training. I’d always done my own research to be on the safe side. The thought of insulting someone through my lack of knowledge about them literally haunted my nightmares. Some of the skaters could pull it off, confidently introducing themselves to their celebrity partners and waiting for them to introduce themselves back. For me, the risk of making someone feel uncomfortable made me want to shrivel up in a ball and die. So, I studied.
“Asha, you’re with Alice Avril.” A ripple of excitement swept through the room. Now, she was a good celebrity to be partnered with, since she starred in almost everything these days. Mark meant it when he said they’d gone all out this year; she couldn’t have been cheap to hire.
Asha tried hiding her smug smile. The more popular the celebrity, the better your likelihood of winning. I nudged her with my shoulder, wagging my eyebrows, and the corner of her mouth quirked up knowingly.
The celebrities never had any complaints about being partnered with Asha. With her lustrous black hair cascading in silky waves around her face, and full, captivating lips against her warm brown skin, she was the epitome of sensuality. She was confident, outspoken, and extremely talented, reminding me a lot of my best friend, Lily. Whereas my long blond ponytail and light smattering of freckles gave off “I’ve just left school” vibes.
“Matilda . . .” Mark paused, scanning the sheet. He took his sweet time, eyes slowly dragging across the page as if I wasn’t a ball of nerves.
It will be fine. This is your year, Matilda.
“Matilda, you’re with Luca Vasvault.”
The audible gasp around the room was the only thing that stopped me from thinking I’d misheard him.
“Luca Vasvault is on the show this year?” Sara gaped from her seat, dipping her head to look at me. Luca Vasvault’s notoriety made every other celebrity who’d ever starred on the show look like the local shop owner in comparison.
“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” Mark responded, raising an eyebrow in her direction.
“It’s just that he’s, like, mega-famous.”
“And an absolute god,” Sammy added.
“I thought he wasn’t filming anymore?”
“Didn’t he release a sex tape a few months ago?”
“I thought he was in rehab.”
The gossip continued until Mark interrupted. “Yes, Luca is on the show. You are under no circumstances allowed to hound him for any reason—be it autographs, gossip, or because your grandma ‘just loves him in that film.’ ” He said the last part in a mock-female voice, which made me want to head-butt him. “The only person who should be in contact with him is Matilda. Got it?”
Everyone’s eyes landed on me, reminding me I had yet to react. Spurring myself into action, I nodded. “Got it, sounds good.”
Outwardly, I slapped on a smile and loosened my shoulders, ensuring I looked relaxed, happy, and unconcerned by the news.
But inside? I was an eye-twitching and palm-sweating mess.
I had just been partnered with Hollywood’s biggest and most notorious bad boy.
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