Read An Excerpt From 'Evening the Score' by Lexi LaFleur Brown

USA TODAY bestselling author, NHL insider, and TikTok influencer Lexi LaFleur Brown is back with another trope-packed, spicy, hockey-accurate rom com!

Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Evening the Score by Lexi LaFleur Brown, which releases on May 26th 2026.

Don’t get mad—get even.

A grudge hates to see Olivia Hinckley coming. Years ago, a dirty hit ended her late father’s NHL career with the Minnesota Freeze. It was never fair that Erik Parker walked away with little more than a penalty, but it’s worse that her father’s rival is now up for Hall of Fame induction. On top of that, Erik’s son—hockey’s golden boy, Brody—just signed on to play for the Freeze. Determined to dismantle the Parker legacy, Olivia enacts a revenge plot that has her donning the Freeze’s mascot costume to gain intel on the Parkers. And she can’t help but mess with Brody’s gameplay—and his heart for good measure. After all, what’s a little fake dating between enemies?

Brody Parker only ever wanted to play hockey for fun, but the pressure of being part of hockey’s “First Family” has him dodging nepotism allegations along with high sticks. Erik might act like Father of the Year when the cameras are on, but behind closed doors, Brody struggles with his father’s impossible expectations. Preserving Erik’s image is a full-time job, but lucky for Brody, his new connection with Olivia is a welcome (spicy) distraction.

When Brody finally opens up to Olivia, she never expected she’d pity a Parker for anything. Suddenly, she wants to protect her once-enemy. The romantic feelings she faked are now unexpectedly real, but after leading Brody on for so long, can she keep the lies and the truth straight before she accidentally blows up his whole life?

EXCERPT

THREE
OLIVIA

I sprint through the hall like I’m being chased. Every step feels like a bad dream and I’m running through sinking sand. It was supposed to be a quick peek, to see for myself that a Parker had touched down on Minnesota ice. I crank my head over my shoulder, looking back like the final girl in a horror movie keeping tabs on the killer, but I’ve lost him.

Suddenly, I find myself crashing into a big body and ricocheting off with force. I nearly fall on my ass, but they wrap their arms around me and steady my feet. I open my eyes to find Uncle Derek preventing my fall.

He sets me upright. “No running in the hall, Sport.”

“Shit. My bad.” I straighten out my outfit, re-tucking my shirt into my wide leg slacks. My clammy palms smooth down my flyaways in one sweep.

“No cursing either.” Derek gives me a stern fatherly look, one so paternal that I think I’ve just seen my dad’s ghost. In an instant, we both break into laughter and embrace in a warm hug.

It’s been so long since I’ve stepped foot in the Freeze Dome that I got lost trying to find the offices. A lot has changed since Derek used to take my sister and me to Freeze games as kids, my dad always declining the invitation to join us. Some hockey injuries are visible; most are so deep they’re hidden to the naked eye.

One thing that hasn’t changed around here is Derek. He’s still missing a bottom tooth and his nose sits sideways on his face, pointing both left and right. There’s a giant line running from the corner of his eye down his cheek. Back then they didn’t have to wear visors. He looks like he’s been on the losing end of one too many bar fights, but this city knows the truth. He was a protector out there. He took care of my dad the best he could, and now he’s taking care of me.

I follow him back to his office while I try to wrap my head around running into Brody Parker. When he smiled at me, I could have sworn I was staring at Erik. I can’t believe I came face-to-face with a Parker and didn’t knock his front teeth out—even with several weapons handy. As I looked into Brody’s eyes, it was hard to repress the years of disdain that have been quietly burgeoning beneath my skin. All I could think about was Erik Parker holding up a Freeze jersey on national television. The need for vengeance was oozing out of every one of my pores. My skull is still steaming.

But Brody’s not Erik; he’s only his son. If my plan is going to work, I need to control myself. First, I need to get a job. Then, I can figure out how I’m going to ruin the Parker reputation and make sure Erik isn’t inducted into the Hall of Fame. With confirmation that Brody has no clue who I am, it shouldn’t be hard to get close enough to him to learn all their dirty little secrets.

“So, data science isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?” Derek asks as I trail him down the hall.

“It’s a tough market for freelancing right now,” I explain.

He nods. “Well, I’m happy to help you out for the time being. Actually, you’ll be helping me out. Your timing couldn’t be better.”

With the season about to start, I’m sure there’s tons of demand for extra concessions workers, bar staff, even information desk employees. “Whatever you need, I’m your girl.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Derek leads me into his office. “You’re about five foot nine, right?” He pulls the leather chair out from his desk for me.

“I’m about that.” I plop down, immediately noticing the photo of Derek and my dad framed on his wall. My dad and I have the same face-contorting smile—the type that’s mostly eyes. What I wouldn’t give to see it in person one more time.

Derek takes a seat across from me. “And there wouldn’t be anything preventing you from climbing stairs or carrying over fifty pounds?” he asks, interlocking his hands and anchoring them to the desk.

“I don’t see why not.” I lean forward, gripping the arms of my chair. A shock of anxiety shoots up my spine and tingles all the way down to my fingers. Something about the way this place smells is a haunting nostalgia trip. I feel car sick.

“And you’re legally allowed around children?”

“Legally, yes, but I can’t guarantee that they won’t pick up a few new curse words from me.”

Derek pushes his chair back and bends down, disappearing beneath his desk. “You’ll have to be mute. Is that a problem?” he grunts out of sight.

Did Tori put him up to this? Even for a loose cannon like Uncle D—who is known to enjoy giving my sister and me a hard time—these questions are getting weird. What job does he have planned for me? Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than modeling for Ivy’s taxidermy website; she says I have beautiful hands. It’s bad enough sleeping with all those carcasses. I can’t stand touching them too.

Derek pops back up from underneath his desk wearing a comically large lynx head. Like a surprise gone wrong, I shriek, flinching so hard in my seat that I catch air. I recognize it immediately as Chilly the Lynx, Minnesota Freeze’s mischievous mascot. My petrified expression reflects back at me as I stare into the mascot’s glaring golden eyes. Its pointy white teeth revealed in a friendly open snarl taunt me.

Derek quickly takes the mask off and places it on his desk. “You’re not still scared of Chilly, are you?” He lowers his brow. “Of course not. That was a reflex.” I put my hand to my heart. It beats like a drum. That thing used to always visit our section and steal my hat. I would cry so loudly that Derek had to tell the mascot’s handler to keep it away. Around eight years old, I finally warmed up to Chilly and by ten I was too cool

for it.

“The guy who’s usually in the suit was injured in a stunt gone wrong. He sustained third-degree burns to eighty percent of his body and is out for the season.”

I gasp. “That’s horrible.”

“It was a pretty standard mascot injury. Felix will be back better than ever, but in the meantime, we need a temporary replacement.” Derek lifts his hand toward me and I want so badly to believe he’s giving me directions to a popcorn stand looking to hire.

I glance around the enclosing office, and then behind me. It’s only us in the room. “Me?” I dig my index finger into my clavicle.

“It’s yours for the season.” He pushes the lynx head across the desk and into my lap. “Please don’t make any kids cry.”

“You’re kidding.” I quickly set the head down on the ground next to my chair. I’m not scared of it; I just don’t need to hold it on my lap like the beloved family pet.

“No, I’m being very serious. If you’re going to be the team’s mascot this season, you cannot make kids cry. That’s rule number two of being a mascot.” Derek pulls out a manila folder from his top drawer and begins rifling through paperwork.

October Book Releases: Fiction

“What’s rule number one?” My leather chair squeaks beneath me as I lean in, trying to get a peek at what he’s holding.

He slams a document down on the table. According to the header, it’s an employment agreement—mascot specific.

“Your true identity has to remain a secret from everyone. Fans, players, coaches, staff . . . I mean everyone.” He readies his pen with an echoing click and hands it over.

“It’s Chilly, not Spider-Man.” I scan the contract. It’s lengthy, but none of the rules seems too outrageous: don’t punch any kids, don’t tell anyone outside of your immediate family that you’re Chilly, don’t put on the mascot costume and hang out in bushes at night scaring the locals, etc., etc. I guess great responsibility really does come with great power.

“This job is perfect for you,” he says.

“What part of terrifying giant cat spectacle is perfect for me?” I look down at the lynx head and shutter.

“Showmanship is in your DNA—so is athleticism. And you’re an excellent gymnast.” Derek gets up from his desk and drags a giant unmarked black duffel bag to my feet. It’s the rest of Chilly’s mutilated body.

“Gymnast? You mean the uncoordinated dance performances Tori and I used to put on for family and friends when I was five years old?” I take the pen in my hand but stop shy of touching the contract. The money is good and it’s only a temporary job.

“I thought you needed a job.” Derek’s leans in, tapping on the signature line.

I twirl the pen between my fingers, buying myself time. “I was hoping to usher people to their seats or sell mini donuts.”

Derek gets out of his chair. “Look, sport,” he says, sitting down on the edge of his desk. He folds his hands across his lap. “I know you’ve got complicated feelings about hockey, about this team. Hell, I do too. Why not get back into it in a meaningful way? As the mascot, you’ll be able to connect with the fans, the game, and even the players.”

Connect with the players.

Uncle D is right. The mascot position gets me closer to ice level than any other job in here and I get to do it anonymously. The Parker dynasty is going to crumble at the hands of a cat.

I don’t need any more convincing than that.

After I’ve signed on every line, I set the pen down and turn to Derek. “Give me the costume,” I say with a newly acquired sense of purpose. Money, power, and the promise of revenge are intoxicating.

“They prefer the term suit. Costume is offensive,” he says.