Melanie Ting's Blog

Bang. Bang. 

“Andy, help. Open up.”

I’m jolted out of a deep sleep.

“Whoozit?” Between my dry mouth and semi-conscious state, I can hardly get the words out. Still half-asleep, I throw off my cozy duvet and totter towards the door.

“Dude, open up,” the voice outside pleads. It’s a male voice, but not one I recognize. Also, dude?

As I unlock my dorm room door on autopilot, my half-awake brain is screaming bad idea. But I’m in the middle of a crowded campus, so I can scream if necessary.

No sooner have I cracked the door open than a large guy pushes his way inside. I step back and blink…then blink again.

Is he naked?

“Thank fuck,” he mutters. He turns and shuts the door like he’s being pursued by zombies, then sighs in relief.

Now I have a perfect view of his ass, which is most definitely naked, as well as huge. Not huge in a horrible way, like a vast plumber’s crack appearing from under a sink, but rounded and muscular, with those dents on the side of each cheek that signify serious workouts. The mystery man turns to face me, and my gaze falls to a pair of shoes he’s holding in front of his package. That’s unfortunate, but they are quite large shoes.

My eyes travel up from the shoes to sharply defined abs, a sculpted chest, broad shoulders, and then…his face. Wow. He’s gorgeous. Hazel eyes with dark lashes, a square jaw, perfect skin. Even his light brown hair fans out in perfect waves around his face, despite having fled zombies or whatever.

A wave of heat flushes over my body and I swallow. That’s when it hits me. Of course—this is all a dream. And a spicy one at that.

My fantasy man frowns and whispers, “It’s not a dream.”

“Geez, did I say that out loud?” Or can he read my mind? And if that’s true, why aren’t we in bed already?

“Shhh. Keep your voice down,” he cautions. “Sorry for barging in like this, but I’m in trouble.”

“You lost all your clothes in a horrible accident?” I’m willing to play along, since this isn’t reality anyway.

“Ha ha,” he replies. “No, I was in the middle of—” He scrunches his face up. “Well, you know. With someone down the hall. And then her boyfriend calls to say he’s on his way up. So, I had to leave in a rush. Since he was coming from the other end of the hall, I went this way and ended up here.”

“I feel so chosen.” I’m distracted by being at eye level with that broad, muscular chest, with a tiny red maple leaf tattoo. Apparently my fantasy man is Canadian. That makes perfect sense—his nipples are exactly the colour of maple syrup. But we’re talking too much for a fantasy, so perhaps I can speed things up by leaning in to find out if those nipples taste like syrup too. 

But before my tongue can taste anything, he explains, “Well, you are the RA, right? At the initiation seminar, they said that the resident assistants are the people to see if we run into problems in the dorms.”

Poof. My fantasy bursts like a soap bubble. This is not a sex dream, it’s my reality. I am the mother hen for a floor of freshmen here in the Humphrey Hall dorm. It’s a co-ed building, with girls and guys alike—guys like Big Ass Boy here. The fact that he’s the embodiment of my ideal man is only an unfortunate coincidence.

Now the sounds of an argument can be heard from the hallway.

I groan, then swirl my hair into a messy bun and pull my robe on over my pajamas. “I don’t know why I’m helping you. You’re not even one of my residents. Who were you sleeping with anyway?”

He pushes his hand through his layered hair and shakes his head. “Uh, I’m not great with names. Tessa? Gina? She’s blonde.”

Amazing. This guy is becoming less attractive every minute.

“Well, that certainly narrows it down.” I pocket my phone and put on my glasses. “Okay, Big Ass Boy, sit tight and I’ll let you know when you can leave.” 

I edge around him and ease myself out the door. At the other end of the hallway, Jenny (not even close, buddy) is arguing with her angry boyfriend. They’re doing that thing where one person is hiss-whispering and the other—usually drunk—person is obnoxiously loud.

“Where the fuck is he?” her swaying boyfriend demands.

“You’re wasted, Toby. There isn’t anyone else here. Shut up or you’ll wake up everyone,” she hisses.

“Too late,” I say as I arrive on the scene.

“Oh, Andy. I’m so sorry about this.” Jenny looks relieved to see me.

I plant myself right in front of her beefy boyfriend. He scowls down at me, but his level of anger cannot compare to mine, someone abruptly awakened in the middle of the night to handle all this. I stare right into his bloodshot eyes.

“Toby, here’s your choice. You can either leave by yourself, or I can call security and have you escorted out.” I brandish my phone at him like it’s the hotline to a highly trained SWAT team instead of a tiny security guard named Ferdinand who works two jobs and is probably asleep right now. Ah, sleep.

Toby pokes me in the collarbone with an unsteady fingertip. Ouch.

“Who the fuck put you in charge?” he demands, then mutters something that sounds alarmingly like “bossy bitch.”

Oh, it’s on, Donkey Brain. I push the heel of my hand against his chest and shove him back. He sways and steps back.

“The second floor of Humphrey Hall is my turf, buddy. You’re not a resident and you need to go. Now.”

“Sssorry,” he slurs. “I didn’t mean to…” The rest of his apology gets lost in the empty recesses of his brain. “But I’m not gonna go until I find him. The asshole that she was cheating with.”

I motion down the hallway. “There’s no one here. Go home and sleep this off. I’m sure things will make more sense in the morning.”

He blinks his bloodshot eyes. “I wanna sleep in Jenny’s room.”

Someone pokes his head out of his door and suggests that we all “shut the fuck up so people can sleep.” Amen, brother.

I turn to Jenny. “Do you want him to leave?”

Surprisingly, she shakes her head. I’m certainly no expert at juggling multiple men, but it feels like welcoming your boyfriend into a room where you were just having sex with someone else is not the best idea. Especially when the other man’s clothes are still in there. And wouldn’t there be a lingering sex smell?

Yet, she takes Toby by the arm and drags him towards her open door. I follow and warn, “If there are any more disturbances, I will have to throw him out.” Yeah, right—me and what army?

Jenny flashes me an angelic smile, unaware that the proof she’s no saint is locked inside my room. Or maybe she’s used to men fighting over her.  

“Toby will be good. Won’t you, babe?” she coos. They disappear behind her door, and I hear the lock click.

I sigh. It’s only September and I already hate my life. Now to get rid of Big Ass Boy and go back to bed. My adrenaline rush is over and I can barely keep my eyes open. Okay, one a-hole down, and one to go.

I fling open my door. Completely relaxed, my former dream man is lying on my bed reading. No longer naked, he’s now wearing a hoodie that belonged to my ex, and…

“Oh my god!” I look closer at the skintight black fabric stretched across his massive thighs. “Are those my leggings?” 

He sits up and at least has the decency to look embarrassed. “Yeah. Sorry, but they were the only things that fit. Even your sweatpants are way too small. You’re pretty short. But I had to wear something.”

Unbelievable. I’m both relieved that he’s not naked and disappointed to miss seeing that cut physique one more time. A girl deserves some reward for slaying drunken dragons. 

He swings his feet over the side of the bed and slips on his shoes. “Don’t worry, I’ll wash your clothes and bring them back.”

“Don’t bother. Unless you raided my underwear drawer for an extra-stretchy thong, you’re commando underneath those leggings, so feel free to burn them. I’ll never wear anything that has been in direct contact with your sweaty balls.” And I’ve been trying to return that hoodie for ages, so its disappearance would be a relief.

Big Ass Boy ignores the aspersions cast on his anatomy and glances towards the door. “How did it go out there?”

“Fine. It’s safe, so you can go now.” And I can crawl back into bed. I look longingly at my duvet, which now has a massive body dent in it. At least he didn’t rest his perspiring privates directly on my clean linens. 

“Really? What happened?” he asks.

Oh, by all means, let’s chat. I let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, let’s see. The two of them were arguing in the hall but by now they’ve kissed and made up in her room.” More like screwed and made up.

He nods and waits expectantly, like he needs to hear all the details.

“The woman you were banging is Jenny, by the way, since you don’t seem to be into learning the names of your hookups. And her boyfriend is large, drunk, and angry.” I look this guy over once more. The fabric of the oversized sweatshirt is straining across his muscular chest, and the leggings look like they’re painted onto his tree-trunk thighs. “Although, I think you could have taken him.”

He raises both palms. “I’m a hockey player, but not an enforcer or anything.” 

A hockey player. Of course. At Monarch College, hockey is the number one sport, and the team members strut around campus with maximum entitlement. This explains everything: he’s a party boy player with zero morals. Any attraction I felt earlier is completely cooled by finding out he’s a jock. 

Since I haven’t responded with the requisite fawning, the conversation comes to a halt. When I look up, he’s assumed the sweet puppy-dog expression that men believe women like. Unfortunately for him, I’m a cat person.

Also, he won’t stop staring. While I’m attractive under normal circumstances, right now I’m wearing cotton pajamas, a threadbare velour robe, and smudged glasses. My messy bun is reaching new heights of messiness and there might be dried drool on my cheek. So why is he watching me so intently? Maybe he disapproves of the fact that I wake up like this, instead of like some fake beauty influencer.

Who cares? I’m not worried about this jerk’s opinion.

He continues to stare as he stands up. “So, we never really got a chance to introduce ourselves. I’m Jack Sinclair.” When he rises to his full height, he towers over me. He’s well over six feet tall, and I automatically take a step back. 

“Oh, sorry.” He backs into the bed. “Wait, you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Despite his size and lack of normal clothing, he has an aura of innocence.

I shrug. “No. But most women don’t appreciate a naked guy barging into their room in the middle of the night.” Who I am kidding? Most women would appreciate this particular Adonis appearing in their bedroom at any time of the day or night.

Jack offers a shy smile. “In my defence, I thought you were a guy.”

At my skeptical look, he offers, “The name thing on your door? It says Andy Robson, A-N-D-Y. Girls usually spell it A-N-D‑I.” 

“Thank you so much for the gendered grammar lesson.” This continues to be one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had. Why does he want to have a friendly chat at 2:30 AM? My bed is calling, and it’s time to be direct. “Could you leave now?” 

“Okay, sorry. Andy, I really appreciate the rescue tonight. I know it’s way beyond your job description.”

Finally, someone appreciates everything I’ve done tonight. Maybe he’s not a total jerk after all. I give him a half-smile.

He beams back, then makes serious eye contact. “You know, I just broke up with someone too. Someone I’d been going out with for a long time.”

For a long moment, I can’t even process his words. My breakup with Bryce is something I’ve only discussed with my best friends. I don’t share the worst moments of my life with complete strangers. And to have Jack mention it so unexpectedly—even in his empathetic way—feels like a punch to the gut. I wrap my hands around my stomach.

He places a large hand on my back. “Andy, are you okay?”

But—how does he even know?

My eyes fall on the slim black notebook lying crookedly on my bedside table. It takes a long moment to process his crime.

I gasp. “Oh my god! You read my journal?”

He looks between me and the notebook and winces. “Is that what it was? Well, yeah, I did. Sorry…but it was so interesting. And also, um, hot. You’re a really good writer.”

He offers a weak smile, like I’m supposed to be thankful for the compliment.

A hot flush of anger spreads over my entire body. I try to shove him away, but he’s so solid that he hardly budges.

“I cannot believe you,” I hiss. “First you root through my entire wardrobe and then you choose to read my personal thoughts. In a room full of books! What is wrong with you?”

His eyes widen and he raises his hands in apology. “Nothing! I’m really sorry, Andy. The book was right beside the bed, and it didn’t say ‘Private’ or anything, so I didn’t think…” He trails off and looks at me worriedly, but his fake sincerity only makes me angrier.

“Get out. I’m counting to three. If you’re not gone by then, I’m going to let Jenny’s boyfriend know you’re here.”

He reaches out to touch my shoulder, but I recoil and he drops his hand. “Out,” I repeat.

He sighs. “Okay. I’m going, I’m going.” 

With a final backwards look like a kicked puppy, he leaves. 

The second he’s through the doorway I  shut the door behind him. Unfortunately, the dorm’s metal doors are impossible to slam, but I push mine firmly shut. I wish I had multiple locks to bolt, noisily and dramatically, so he could hear how much separation I want between us. Instead, I watch through the peephole to make sure he actually leaves.

He walks gingerly, probably worried that the spandex fibres of my leggings are going to give up their battle and explode into shreds like the Hulk’s clothes. When Jack skirts Jenny’s door like it’s radioactive, I can’t help but laugh. My anger dissipates. What do I care if someone I’m never going to see again has read my journal?

When he finally disappears, I shed my robe and glasses and collapse onto the bed. I close my eyes, but my brain is too wired to get back to sleep. For the billionth time this year, I wish I could have afforded my own place off campus. 

Want to read the rest of Hockey 101? Of course, you do. Here’s the link to get the book.

When I saw the 23 for 23 hashtag on social media, encouraging people to read 23 BIPOC authors during 2023, I snorted. C’mon, give me a real challenge.

I have only two areas of reading expertise: hockey romances and books by Asian authors. I would estimate that about 40% of my reading is Asian authors. Because I spent my teenage years never finding myself or anyone that looked like me in books, now I’m ecstatic to experience the wide range of Asian experience. So, 23 books is easy for me. And sure enough, when I counted I had read more than 50 books by BIPOC authors—Asian, Black and First Nations.

I don’t review books on a regular basis, but I have reviewed Asian authors in May, which is Asian Heritage month. But this year, I’m going to do a year end wrap-up instead. From the notes in my reading journal, here are the books by BIPOC authors that I enjoyed the most, in the order in which I read them:

Counterfeit by Kristin Chen

This was the first book I read in 2023. On the surface it’s about money, status, and counterfeit handbags, but there are more serious themes underneath. The novel combines a Gone Girl vibe with a critique of U.S./China relations and prejudices.

Stay True by Hua Hsu

Despite great personal enthusiasm, I have failed to convince any of my friends to try this moving memoir. So here’s my last attempt!

The best memoirs happen when someone who can write also has a dramatic life. Hsu strikes the perfect self-conscious tones of youth throughout a book about growing up with immigrant parents, yearning for a creative career, and surviving a traumatic event. I was especially charmed by his warm relationship with his parents especially since I’ve had enough of the villainous Asian parent stereotype. Hsu’s memoir combines the story of an ordinary life that’s sheared into two parts by a tragedy. But his voice remains hopeful throughout.

Something More by Jackie Khalilieh

I read this YA romance after learning about it through the Canadian Romance awards. It’s a love triangle centered on an autistic Palestinian Greek Orthodox heroine. If the purpose of reading books by BIPOC authors is to gain empathy for the experiences of others, I would say that the best books don’t merely describe a life, they make you see what you have in common with that character. We’ve all been adolescents who can’t reading emotional signals, but Jessie’s problems are amplified by autism. A very enjoyable read.

This Time It’s Real by Ann Liang

Another YA romance, this time about an aspiring author at an exclusive school in Beijing. She begins a fake romance with a handsome C-drama star in order to land a writing internship. While it’s a fairy tale premise, the romance develops so naturally and realistically that it had me sighing with satisfaction.

Role Playing by Cathy Yardley

I’ve read a few nerdy romances by Yardley, but I appreciate the food descriptions and Asian characters more than the gaming, which I don’t understand at all. This mature romance was excellent from their online meeting when he thought she was a grandmother while she thought he was a teenager. Final conflicts can feel forced, but theirs was perfectly built into their characters. And when Aiden—-encouraged by Maggie—-finally stands up to his family, the scene was so satisfying that I reread it three times!

What You Are Looking for Is in the Library by Michiko Aoyama

There has been a spate of quirky Japanese books lately, but this one is by far my favourite. Maybe it’s the business student in me, but the central theme of finding satisfaction through work is very comforting. The chapters are loosely connected stories of people with problems who stumble into the local library for help. The central character is a mysterious librarian who gives out both book recommendations and tiny felted objects that prove to be life-changing. She’d be a perfect Ghibli character.

I hope that you find something you’d like in this brief overview. I already talked about my two favourite hockey romances this year on the Chippy Chicks Livestream on YouTube. And I post book recs on my Instagram account as well.

And here’s a bonus, some more BIPOC books I’ve read and enjoyed this year:

Throwback by Maurene Goo

Sea Change by Gina Chung

The Boy You’ve Always Wanted by Michelle Quach

Much Ado About Nada by Uzma Jalaluddin

The Comeback by Lily Chu

Here’s the first chapter of my upcoming book, I Hate Nate. You can preorder it here.

Camille Salang

Naked and handcuffed to a bed wasn’t the best time to decide to break up, but I’ve never been someone who planned ahead.

Bill’s blue plaid boxer shorts were the last straw.

As he sat at the end of his bed and pulled off his khakis to reveal navy dress socks and those stupid boxers, I got upset. How many times had I worn special lingerie at his request, but he couldn’t remember to buy some nice boxer briefs? I was a very visual person.

This was the first time we were acting out one of my fantasies and the mood was already crushed. I was so done here.

“Bill,” I said. “Tomato.”

His longish hair flipped as he jerked his head around. “The safe word? But I just cuffed you. Does it hurt or something?”

“Take the handcuffs off. Please,” I added. 

“Oh, okay. Where did I put the key?”

He searched every pocket of his pants before realizing it was in his shirt pocket. That was another strike against him. He acted like cuffing me was a crime. I wasn’t into S&M or rape fantasies, I just liked feeling helpless. But that fantasy didn’t work when Bill kept asking if everything was all right. Once we started, he was supposed to take over.

Right now, my only fantasy was getting out of here.

“Hurry up,” I said.

“Aww, baby. We haven’t even done it yet,” he pleaded. His eyes went up and down my body and then his cock tented out of those stupid boxers. It was all so predictable. “You look hot right now.”

“I always look hot.” I jangled my wrists, and he finally unlocked the right cuff. There was a clanging as the metal of the cuffs hit the wrought iron of the bedpost. Ugh. I flipped my freed hand around to get the circulation going. I had wanted the fuzzy cuffs in hot pink, but no, Bill insisted on the “realistic” leather and metal ones. But he wasn’t the one wearing them.

He leaned over to unlock the other side. As his body hovered over mine, I breathed in the tobacco scent of his expensive cologne. It reminded me of overflowing ashtrays, and I recoiled a little.

“Is something wrong?” Bill asked.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Yeah, this isn’t working out. Us.”

“What?” He sat back on his heels. “Camille, what are you talking about? We’re so good together. You’re the best girlfriend I’ve ever had. I even introduced you to my mother!”

Bringing up that event wasn’t making his case. Mrs. Fletcher had been a total snob who let me know exactly how lucky I was to be dating Bill.

“I don’t know. We’re just not compatible.” As in, I’m fun and you’re not. The problem was that I was attracted to guys with qualities like reliability, stability, and self-control. Strengths that I admired—mostly because I didn’t have them. But those qualities were boring in the long run.

“Not compatible? Of course we’re different. That’s the nature of male/female dynamics.” Bill’s tone was lecturing and whining at the same time, which was doubly irritating.

I tried to sit up, but my cuffed wrist pulled me back. “Look, undo me first. It’s impossible to talk like this.”

“If I free you, you’ll leave.” He scowled and his lower lip jutted out. “I don’t want to break up.”

Well, he was no dummy. The millisecond I was uncuffed, I would be dressed and outtie. Once I decided to break up, it was over. What was the point of autopsying something that was already dead?

Our emotional standoff was broken by a familiar ringtone.

“Oh shit. That’s work.” Like a robot, he rose and picked up his phone from the bedside table. “Bill Fletcher. Sure, Donny. No, you’re not interrupting anything.”

Excuse me??? I jangled my captured wrist, but he was already in zombie work-mode.

“Let me get to my laptop and see if we can resolve this remotely.” He turned towards the door.

“Bill, noooo!” I screeched. But he plodded out and the last thing I saw was his blue plaid butt. How long would he be gone now? His job as a systems administrator for a large financial firm meant that he got urgent work calls at odd times. That was the downside of a real career—apparently you were never off the clock.

Damn. If only I had waited five more seconds to mention breakups. Now I had to lie here until he finished guiding some clueless coworker through their stupid computer problems. And then he’d keep whining and pleading before he released me. That would be a torture worse than whips and chains.

Maybe I could free myself? I wriggled my wrist and tried to pull my hand out, but no dice. And pulling on the chain only made my arm sore.

“Why does it always look so easy on detective shows?” I muttered. Veronica Mars would have unlocked the handcuff with a nail file by now. Wait, did I have any tools? My purse was far away, but my clothes were lying beside the bed. I spotted a bulge in my jeans pocket: my phone.

Perfect. I could call my sister to come and get me. That would speed things up.

Easier said than done though. First I had to get the jeans. I stretched my foot towards the jeans. No dice. Okay, maybe if I rolled my body closer. I extended my leg as far as it would go—ugh, to have model-length legs right now. Just a little more…and success! My big toe landed on denim. I pulled on the jeans. It took ages, but finally I grabbed my phone.

I exhaled in triumph and dialled Elaine. But her phone went straight to messaging.

“Ugh. What a time to need privacy.” My older sister was soooooo responsible, why would she shut down her phone? Oh right, because we had planned a complicated lie so both of us could sleep over at our boyfriends’ places without Mom knowing. It was ridiculous that we were in our twenties and still scheming to stay out. How many times had she lectured us about men not respecting women who slept with them before commitment?

Mom had no clue what it was like to be young and dating in the 21st century. Women were equal to men, and that included the freedom to hook up. I did a mental eye roll as I called Marty Devonshire, Elaine’s boyfriend. Unfortunately, he didn’t answer either. He was too busy respecting the heck out of my sister.

Okay, one last option left. How desperately did I want to get out of here?

Answer: very desperately.

I exhaled and dialled my last resort.

A cheerful voice answered. “Is this a booty call, Peaches? Did you finally come to your senses and decide you want to do me?”

Marty played hockey for the Vancouver Vice, and his roommate was his teammate, Nate Jones. Nate was ridiculously persistent, but he was the last person I’d go out with. Or stay in with. He even had a nickname for me, which I refused to ask about since it must be sexual. Everything was about sex with Nate.

I heard Bill moving around in the living room and dropped my voice to a whisper, “I’m trying to get a hold of my sister and she’s not answering. Can you knock on the door and tell her it’s an emergency?” 

“Uh, well, I’m not actually at home. I’m playing poker at Lepper’s place. Marty asked for a little privacy tonight. Did you know your sister is a screamer?”        

“Oh god, don’t tell me stuff like that. I can’t un-hear it. What am I going to do?” 

“Do about what? Why are you whispering? Is something wrong?” 

“Yes. My boyfriend won’t let me leave. He knows I’m going to break up with him, so…” My voice trailed off because I really didn’t want to explain my situation to Nate, of all people.

“Are you kidding me? Is he hurting you? What a sick fuck. I’ll be right over to get you,” he declared and then hung up.   

I did my second eye-roll of the night and turned my phone to mute. One minute later, it vibrated. 

“Uh, Camille. Where are you?”   

“Look, he’s not hurting me. We were doing this bondage thing, and I’m cuffed to the bed. I mentioned breaking up at the wrong time, so now he wants to talk me out of it.” 

“Oh.” Nate thought this over. “So, where is he?” 

“He’s on the phone in the living room. Working.”

Nate laughed. “Y’know, I can’t believe you won’t go out with me, but you’re dating this complete loser.” 

“Stop it. Unit 34. 2140 Beta Street.” There was no point telling off the guy who could rescue me from this stupid predicament. “Bill Fletcher is the name on the buzzer.” 

“Is this going to get weird?” Nate asked. “He doesn’t have a gun or anything, does he?”

“Not unless you count the controller for his PS4,” I said. “You could take him easily. You are a hockey player.” Whatever his personality defects, Nate had an excellent body: big, muscular, and totally cut.

“Okay. Sit tight.” Nate snickered. “Like you can do anything else. Hey, are you naked? Or are you wearing one of those tiny leather outfits?”

I hung up. Yikes. It was one thing to be naked in front of Bill, but another to be naked in front of a horndog like Nate. If Nate found me naked and chained to a bed, he would have sex first and ask questions later. That turned me on in a way that Bill’s playacting never had, and I shook my head to get rid of the disgusting thought.

I began worming my way into my skinny jeans, but with only one hand it was tough. Too bad I hadn’t worn my boyfriend jeans. As I finished zipping them up, Bill returned and sat beside me.

“I’m so sorry about that. Donny always has the same issue with his—hey, how did you get into your jeans?” he asked, looking down with confusion.

“With difficulty. Now will you undo me?”

He shook his head. “Not until we talk. Is your period due or something? Because you’re not being rational. We’ve got a good thing here. Maybe I’m jumping the gun, but I can see us having a future—once you settle down and find a real job, of course. I know women want commitment but there are stages for these things.”

Seriously? How many ways had he just insulted me?

“Here’s a tip for your next relationship, Bill. Don’t tell a woman all the things that are wrong with her while she’s trying to break up with you. Now, uncuff me.”

He frowned. “You mean the period stuff? But that’s the only logical explanation. I know you’re into me. Last weekend, we talked about living together.”

Ugh, were we going to relive our whole relationship? This was why quick breakups ruled. “We never said anything like that.”

He nodded with eyes wide and owlish. “We did. I said, ‘Too bad you live at home and can’t sleep over anytime you want.’ You said, ‘Yes.’ Then I said, ‘If you lived here that would solve that problem.’ And I meant that.”

I tried to sit up again but fell back onto the bed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, that was just conversation.”

He leaned forward and took my free hand. “I’m not like other guys, Camille. I mean every word I say. You’re so pretty and so much fun. I feel like my life has improved ever since we began going out.”

The utter ridiculousness of this situation struck me, and I began to giggle. Bill was holding my hand and acting like this was some normal, romantic situation—but I was half-naked and chained to his bed. Wasn’t this the exact scene from a horror movie?

“Why are you laughing?” he demanded. “I’m really upset here.”

Oh no. If I didn’t watch out, I’d never get out of here. I made my expression solemn and stifled my inner scream. And for the first time ever, I wished Nate Jones were here.

The next book in the Vancouver Vice series is coming at long last. And you can preorder here right now.

Truthfully, this book nearly didn’t get published. I first began writing it about five years ago after publishing Mr. November. I was intrigued by Nate in that book; he was goofy and immature but also sweet and likeable. The first ten chapters of the book flowed easily, then I got completely stalled. I could not finish the novella, which was entitled Better and based on a bet between Nate and Camille. So the book languished in my to-do pile, and I moved on to write five other books.

But I having posted the first chapter of Better, I kept getting emails or messages asking when that book was coming out. I wasn’t the only one who liked Nate and Camille. So, I went back to the book and really brainstormed. I came up with a completely new idea, possibly influenced by listening to K-pop while I wrote. And instead of a novella, it was a full length novel.

However still more roadblocks awaited this book. When I went to submit the book to my editor, she had had a serious health crisis and wasn’t there to provide her usual excellent guidance. And I couldn’t get in with any of the other development editors I usually used. So instead I had to rely on the advice of other authors who beta read the book for me. This process took a long time, but I’m grateful to everyone who helped me with their tough love.

The final blow was that my cover designer had taken on a new job and wasn’t available to revise the original Better cover. So, I rolled up my sleeves and did it myself. It turned out to be fun, and I’m proud of the results. One other blip is that the paperback and ebook covers are slightly different, but it’s all good.

Stay tuned. I’ll post the first chapter this weekend.

May is Asian Heritage Month here in Canada, so I’m recommending some Asian American or Asian Canadian authors that I’ve really enjoyed. The genres are varied, but what the books have in common are strong characters, fluid writing, and a good sense of humour.

Here are my recommendations, in no particular order:

A gorgeous romance that’s both Asian and Canadian? Be still my patriotic heart. The Stand-In by Lily Chu is like the plot of a dreamy romcom. Gracie Reed is going through a very bad time, until she’s mistaken for a famous Chinese actress who’s working in Toronto. Opportunity knocks in the form of a job as the actress’s secret stand-in. From the hilarity of Gracie’s stumbles in her new role to the poignancy of her struggles to care for her ailing mother, this book covers all the emotional bases. And who doesn’t love a good Cinderella story? I listened to the audiobook with the hero’s perfect Anglo-Chinese accent. Swoon.

But wait, there’s more—more Canadian romance, that is. My list of auto-buy authors is pretty short, but Uzma Jalaluddin tops it. I’ve already raved about her first book, Ayesha at Last, here, and I enjoyed her second book even more. Of course, when you read authors from different backgrounds, you expand your understanding of other people and cultures. In Hana Khan Carries On, Jalaluddin goes one step further, she inspired a shock of realization about my own experiences as a third-generation immigrant. Our issues feel so much less than those our parents endured, yet our complaints are valid too. As usual, when I discuss Jalaluddin’s books, I get carried away with the social awareness she layers in. Instead I should be raving about the humour, the familiar Toronto settings, and the fascinating characters. And so much delicious food description, yum.

Maurene Goo is also on my auto-buy list. Her Young Adult stories of Korean-American heroines navigating life and love are refreshing and fun. All her books are excellent, but a good starter would be I Believe in a Thing Called Love, where the awkward heroine uses the K-dramas her dad adores as a blueprint for winning the man of her dreams. I had never watched a K-drama before I read this, but thanks to Goo and the pandemic, I’ve now watched dozens. (My current favs are Vincenzo, Crash Landing on You, and Business Proposal, in case you wanted to binge.) Or if you prefer foodie books, The Way You Make Me Feel, stars a food truck as well as warring enemies-turned-friends.

YA books do seem to offer a wider variety of Asian characters than adult fiction. I’ve read books about teenagers who are Taiwanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Filipino, and many more. Maybe it’s because high school is that one universal experience most of us can relate to. Well, how about a Chinese/Vietnamese heroine and a half-Japanese hero? Not Here to Be Liked by Michelle Quach has both in a very diverse high school setting. Eliza Quan, the rebellious heroine, doesn’t care about popularity, she just wants her deserved role as editor of the school paper. She is prickly, smart, and hilariously self-aware. It’s not often that I actually laugh aloud while reading, but this book is both feminist and funny.

Joan is Okay by Weike Wang is a recent read and an excellent piece of contemporary fiction. The narrative voice of Joan is strong and intriguing, giving a rounded portrait of this ICU doctor—-her strengths and limitations. The story is full of unexpected twists, much like Joan herself. Deviation from the norm is seen as something that needs to be corrected, but not here. I laughed so many times while reading this book, yet there’s deeper layer where Joan’s buried emotional issues centred the story.

Reading a book about a pandemic written before the actual pandemic is an eerie experience. I almost quit in the first chapter when I realized what it was about. That would have been a shame. Ling Ma manages to turn a plague into a critique of societal values in Severance. Candace Chen has to prove she’s a survivor when faced with all the challenges of “Shen Fever.” This book has so many things I hate reading about: millennial musing, zombies, and damaged families. Yet I loved Severance’s whip-smart and sardonic send-ups of modern life. Candace’s cool detached persona makes her the solid centre of a world gone mad.

I do read a lot of Japanese authors, both those from Japan and Japanese-American ones. I’m still looking for a favourite Japanese-American romance, so hit me up in the comments if you have suggestions. But I do have a Japanese-American recommendation for you. We Are Not Free by Traci Chee is a very moving book. It’s a YA book that tells the story of fourteen different teenagers during the internment of World War II. While the premise sounds bleak, the spirit and personality of each teenager transcends the events. They’re young and adaptable, and their lives are joyful at times—which reminds me of my mother’s stories of her camp experiences. I listened to the audiobook version of this book, it’s excellent with a different voice for each character. And I cried buckets at the end, but sometimes that’s exactly the reading experience I want.

The last book is one I finished yesterday—proving that my procrastination in writing this post has paid off. The Verifiers by Jane Pek could be classified as a mystery, but it’s more than that. Claudia Lin has just landed her dream job: investigating too-good to be true on-line daters. But between her fractious family and the implosion of her first case, Claudia’s life gets turned upside down and she needs to draw on all her strengths to find out the truth. The perfect book for those—-like me—-who are addicted to true crime podcasts and wonder if we could actually solve a crime.

I hope you found something that interests you in this list. As a Japanese-Canadian, I enjoy reading about the experiences of other Asian cultures in North American. There are similarities between us, of course. But the best books transcend cultural differences to strike a universal note that will touch anyone’s mind and heart.

Books purchased through links may pay me a small commission at no extra charge to you.

Finally, the launch of the last three Moo U books about the hockey boys of Burlington University. And in this episode of mini-reviews, I’m going to review my own book. Spoiler alert: I liked it!

If you missed my previous mini-reviews of the Moo U hockey books, you can find them here and here.

In Playmaker by Sierra Hill, Aria Huntington and Callan Thomas are attracted to each other from the moment they meet. Conveniently, they live in the same suite and sexy moments ensue. But when Aria does the one thing he despises most—will they be able to get to their happy ending?

Buy links for each book are in the titles. Currently they are only available on Amazon and KU, but may be distributed wide later in the year.

Snowballed by Melanie Ting may be the best college hockey romance involving a cute city boy stuck on the farm, naughty goats, farm fresh food, and a hockey-playing heroine that I have read this year.

Full disclosure: I am Melanie Ting.

The tenth and final book in the Moo U series is Goalkeeper by Andi Burns. Have you ever read a New Adult book that feels like it’s written by an Old Adult? Not this book. Paige and Spencer have fresh, authentic voices and experience all the the ups and downs of awkward young love. Fun-loving Paige shows the serious goaltender how to kick back and have fun. I only wish that Paige’s YouTube make-up videos were real, so I could nail down my smoky eye!

And this end my mini-reviews for the Moo U hockey universe. I hope you’re reading all the books and enjoying the lives and loves of college hockey heroes.

Here’s the cover for Snowballed! I have to say I’ve never had such enthusiastic response at any of my covers before—could it be that featuring a hot, half-naked guy attracts readers? Hmmmm.

Noah is half-Japanese, California surfer-style, athletic, and very intense. So this image is as close to Noah as I could get in stock photography. Because cool guys had long hair when I was a teenager, apparently it’s in my DNA to find long hair attractive forever. Luckily, my heroine—as well as most of the Moo U campus—find him attractive as well.

And here’s the blurb:

She needs Prince Farming . . . but she got me instead.

Sure, life’s been easy for me. Growing up in an oceanside house in SoCal, playing top-level college hockey, driving a luxury car with a generous allowance—sounds like the dream, right? Turns out what I didn’t have was freedom. And when I decided to transfer to Moo U for my last year of hockey, my controlling father cut me off.

No money, no car, no friends. I’m just another student struggling to make ends meet. The only place I can afford to live is the Meyers’ farm, where I’ll work in exchange for room and board. Farm work is so exhausting that I don’t even have time to wallow in the crappy turn my life has taken. Zoe Meyers is a hot blonde Amazon with all the energy of a chipmunk on crack. And her positivity is making me realize how lucky I really am, even though I’m broke. Too bad she’s not impressed by a guy who can’t figure out which end of a goat to milk.

Because suddenly I want to impress her. I want to do a lot more with her too . . . if I can get her out of the barn and into my arms.

Snowballed will be available in ebook, paperback, and audiobook on June 7th. Buy it here.

The Moo U books are coming out in flights like a starship attack or the wine pairings at an elegant restaurant. The second flight includes four books, so that means it’s time for more mini-reviews! Although each book is freestanding, I’ll review them in chronological order.

Gametime by Jami Davenport takes place in Season Two. Readers of the first books will recognize the hunky hockey twins, Paxton and Patrick Graham. Paxton is used to being the “lesser” twin—the one with less success on the ice and between the sheets. But after a passionate night with his long-time crush, Naomi Smith, he’s on Cloud Nine until he realizes that she mistook him for Patrick. Ouch. Can a guy come back from a humiliation like this? My favourite part of Gametime was seeing Paxton grow into a better hockey player.

Overtime by Kat Mizera is about the bad boy twin, Patrick. Although all the Moo U books are freestanding, I would recommend reading Gametime before Overtime, because the two brothers are so closely linked. Patrick’s partying ways have caught up with him and he has to improve his marks or he won’t get to play hockey. Enter his tutor: Ellie McGinn, genius and grad student at only 18. Of course, playboy Patrick falls hard for virginal Ellie. Whew, is it hot in here or is it all the sex? The trysts in this book run the gamut: from hot & fast to slow & romantic. And oodles of angst too.

Season Three at Moo U begins with Halftime by Kim Findlay. This book introduces the women’s hockey team through Faith Devereaux, freshman goalie. Unfortunately for Faith, her ex-boyfriend Seb Hunter, plays on the men’s team and the two of them keep crossing paths. Faith is a prickly heroine, used to competing against guys in hockey and life. In contrast Seb is a gentle cinnamon roll of a hero. Miscommunication is their biggest problem, although they have family issues too.

Finally, Kate Willoughby’s Darkroom shows off Kate’s hockey romance hallmarks: great guy banter, yummy food scenes, and steamy sex. Y’all know I adore an Asian heroine—although Indi Briscoe is probably the least Asian Asian ever—but there’s also her bff, Ruby Chang to teach Indi the ways of dim sum and dumplings. Hudson Forte is an adorable hero who combines male cluelessness with an earnest desire to make his girlfriend happy. And he has a pet hamster. Need I say more?

Again, I got a chance to work some of these characters into my book, Snowballed. Unfortunately, Paxton, Patrick, and Hudson are gone by Season Four, but I did manage to add Hudson’s best friend, AJ Scoville, to my book. And if you enjoy meeting Faith and Seb, you’ll see more of them in Snowballed. Zoe Meyers, my heroine, plays hockey with Faith. And be sure to look for Zoe’s cameo appearance in Halftime.

I often find book and movie recommendations on social media. Unfortunately by the time I take up the suggestions, I can never remember who made them. Therefore I can never thank or curse that person later. Right now, I’d like to unfriend the person who recommended the movie The Boy Next Door. It’s a thriller starring J.Lo as a recently separated woman named Claire. She has one night of passion with Noah, the titular boy-next-door, and quickly regrets it. He becomes an obsessive stalker who keeps escalating his efforts to win over Claire.

You may thinking, Oh come on, Mel. What did you expect from a movie whose trailer has such deathless lines as Noah leering and saying, “It got pretty wet here this weekend.” Well, I expected a campy, sexy thriller not a horrifying bloodbath. I had to fast-forward through the movie once Noah began to reveal his stabby side. So I missed a lot, including this joke:

As a follow-up, I listened to the podcast, How Did This Get Made? which has an episode on The Boy Next Door. I enjoy this podcast, but I’ve seldom seen the movies they review since life is too short to watch crappy movies. So, this was my big chance.

Outside of the huge plot holes in this movie, one of the hosts spent a lot of time discussing the big sex scene. He was taken aback by the amount of time Noah spent fingering Claire and going down on her. The host summarized by saying that all Noah wants is to give her pleasure, which never happens in mainstream movies.

Well, that’s another thing I never noticed. Nothing about their sex scene surprised me except the random thought that J.Lo is such a big star and she still does nude scenes.

My theory is that reading romances has skewed my perspective on “mainstream media.” I see nothing unusual in a guy wanting to bring a woman to orgasm first, it happens in most romances I read. In fact, selfish sexual performance is the hallmark of a villain—-an ex, an egotistical about-to-be-ex, or the loser in a love triangle. A hero can be fumbling or virginal, but he still has to be invested in the heroine’s pleasure.

Is this another way that romance heroes differ from real life men? Or is it evidence that romance world is a a better world than the one mainstream media presents?

How do I write about a book when I can’t reveal the cover, the blurb, or even the release date? Well, I could wait, but I’m so excited about finishing Snowballed for Sarina Bowen’s World of True North that I want to tell you all about it. So, I thought I’d introduce you to some of my inspirations for the book.

What I can tell you is that Snowballed is part of the Moo U hockey series which details the lives and loves of the men’s hockey team at the fictional Burlington University in Burlington, Vermont. I wrote about the first Moo U books here.

Snowballed is the story of Californian Noah Goodwin. He spontaneously decides to transfer to Moo U in Vermont for his last year of hockey. Noah has many gifts: wealthy and famous parents, good looks, intelligence, and athletic skills. He’s a top college hockey player, but not an NHL prospect. But of course, he doesn’t have love… yet.

There were different inspirations for Noah—a half-Japanese, Californian hockey star. First of all, Paul Kariya, who is the best hockey player of Japanese ancestry—so far— ever to play in the NHL. His career ended much too early due to concussions, and Sportsnet did a where-is-he-now update on Kariya. What he’s doing now is surfing. He’s in his forties and looking incredibly fit. Check out the story and pictures here. Or just check out the pictures, because—wow. Did I mention incredibly fit?

Another half-Asian surfer inspiration is Keanu Reeves in Point Break. I visualized Noah as a surfer with long hair and Californian attitudes. His whole life, he’s played hockey in nontraditional sunbelt markets like California and Arizona. Naturally, when he’s plunked onto a farm in Vermont, there’s going to be some culture shock.

Noah’s parents, Gary Goodwin and Candy Sugimoto, were partly inspired by the marriage of Brett Hedican and Kristi Yamaguchi. Brett Hedican was a smooth-skating defenceman for the Canucks, among other teams. He’s now a colour analyst for the San Jose Sharks. And Kristi Yamaguchi is an Olympic gold medalist and world champion figure skater. I read a hilarious story about how they met at the Olympics. While he was very impressed, she hardly noticed him. When they met again, he had to reintroduce himself. This time, she was more interested, and the rest is history.

Zoe Meyers, the hard-working farmer/student/hockey player heroine, who hosts Noah on his farm stay is also a combination of people. Zoe’s quirkiest characteristic—she can’t stop talking to Noah when she’s nervous—came to me from two sources. First, a girlfriend who confessed that she could never talk to really good-looking men because they made her nervous. Second, my own experiences when I had to take steroids for a skin rash. I had zero concentration and I talked non-stop—even when I could see people were backing slowly away from me. I also wanted Zoe to have a sunny exterior, while she’s dealing with some bigger issues below the surface. So, I decided she would have a corny sense of humour, much like my friend, author Elle Rush.

And where did I get the Vermont farm setting? Well, I’ve visited Vermont and I’ve visited farms, but never a Vermont farm. So to get all my farm information, I spent many hours reading books on farming and watching instructional farm videos. (If you’re interested in reading about the highs and lows of starting an organic farm business, I highly recommend The New Farm.) I now know way too much about milking goats, caring for chickens, organic gardening, and pig butchering—none of which will help with my own 3’x 3’ raised bed of vegetables. I also learned that farming is a political activity and small organic farms are closely linked to the best restaurants. In the book, Zoe is an awesome cook, but she has the advantage of using her own produce and dairy products. Fresh, local, organic foods are the foundation of her delicious meals.

Those are my big inspirations for Snowballed. I can’t wait to show you the cover (It’s sizzling!) and tell you more details about the book.