Sunday, November 28, 2021
Sunday's Sport Stats: Waiting for Christmas by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Summary:
Cody first met Regen when they were three and covered in glitter after a Christmas decoration project went disastrously wrong. After bonding over the taste of glue, and eating all the chocolate on the tree, the two became best friends. Living in a small Canadian town outside of Calgary, they grew up together, went to the same school, played on the Chipmunks peewee hockey team, and shared a passion for both the Calgary Cobras and chocolate. While Cody stayed at home, went to a local college, and became a teacher, Regen was on a very different path.
Regen and Cody. Their names had become inseparable over the years, just as they had. Through good times and bad, the two boys were thick as thieves and close as brothers. When the boys became men, life tried its best to pry them apart, sending Regen to LA to play professional hockey while Cody remained in Canada and pursued his dream of becoming a teacher. Even with thousands of miles between them, Regen and Cody remained best friends.
Cody is in love with his best friend, and Regen is in love with hockey, and it seems that it will take the magic of Christmas to bring the waiting to an end.
🎄🎅THIS WAS FREE IN THE RAINBOW ADVENT CALENDAR 2019🎅🎄
Scott & Locey have done it once again. Not sure how I managed to not get around to reading this during the holiday in 2019 but I read it now and loved every second of it. Waiting for Christmas is a short, sweet, friends to lovers, holiday tale that is fun, friendly, humorous, romantic, and all around goodness. Don't let Regan and Cody's holiday slip you by because even with Christmas 11 months away, this is the kind of story that is lovely reading all year long. Waiting for Christmas is short on quantity but filled to the rafters on quality.
RATING:
CHAPTER ONE
REGEN
“No, I can’t take a later flight. I have exactly seventy-two hours. Can you find me something on a different airline?”
I paced the small apartment I shared with another rookie, stopping to grab a fry from the bag of takeout sitting on the coffee table, cell to my ear. Hey, he’d left it to go run off with the puck bunny of the night, so finders keepers, and losers go hungry. Ignoring the sounds of passion oozing through the thin walls of our second-story apartment in DTLA, or downtown Los Angeles as the vets on the team called it, I waited for the travel agent to get back to me. Two blocks from the California Power Arena, Gregor Baranov and I had been set up by the LA Condors in the brand-new building overlooking Figueroa Street. I liked the place, but man, the walls were thin as toilet paper.
“Hello? Oh yeah, that would be great!” I wiped my greasy fingers on my jeans then raced into the small kitchen to find a pen and paper. “Okay, yes, the twenty-fourth at 6:04 a.m. from LAX. Yes, landing at Calgary International at 11:10. Air Canada? Awesome! Yes, thank you so much.”
I hung up, spun in a tight circle, and pumped the air. Three days back home over Christmas! I couldn’t wait to see my father and Cody. I had so much to tell them, so many stories to pass along about life in the City of Angels. The movie stars, the women, the heat. It was all so different from Witherspoon Lake, a small town about an hour from Calgary. Everyone had told me after being drafted that a backward Canadian boy like me would get a real eye-opening experience in LA. Everyone had been right.
Gregor’s girl of the night padded toward me as I was shoving in fries and searching for Cody’s number in my contacts. Not that I had to search hard. He was at the top, right after my dad. I’d just had a greasy finger swipe that had taken me into the lower ranks of my friends, the ones lingering at the bottom of the list whom I rarely called. Cody was so not one of the bottom dwellers. My gaze left the smudgy screen of my phone as bare boobs bounced by. Wow. Okay.
“Hey, Regen!” the bubbly blonde said as she skipped past in only a pink thong. I winced at the mangling of my name. She had said Ray-Gun. I should have corrected her as I did everyone else. It’s Ree-gin, not Ray-gin or Ray-Gun. Yes, I knew people here in the States thought it should be Ray-gun like the old movie actor/president. But back in Witherspoon Lake, population two thousand and fourteen, it was pronounced Ree-Gin. I would have corrected her if her massive boobs hadn’t been bared to the world. How on earth did a big, ugly Russian like Gregor find such hot women? He barely spoke any English. Guess Ursula was right. One should never underestimate body language. “Hey, do you have any pomegranate water?”
I ripped my gaze from her thighs. It got stuck on her boobs then flew to her face. Pretty face. Typical model look, all big blue eyes, and waves of golden hair. And boobs. So much boobage.
“Uhm, look in the fridge maybe?” I offered, phone in hand, Cody’s number finally going through. Service out at Witherspoon Lake was iffy. If the wind was blowing in the right direction you might get a call through.
“Oh, sure, yeah!” She giggled then returned to skipping along.
I heard Cody pick up. My interest in the boobs waned upon hearing his voice. “Cody, my friend, you really would not believe what I’m seeing,” I whispered and explained the current view. I knew Cody would appreciate it. He was bi after all, so half of him liked the soft, round lady bits.
“Wow. Not one girl in Witherspoon Lake would dare walk around in just a thong,” he said, his deep voice making me feel a surge of incredibly powerful feelings. I loved the guy. Not in a gay kind of way because I wasn’t gay, or even bi, not really. I mean I’d experimented in college with nine or ten guys over my four years, sure, but I’d never felt anything deep for any of them. Only Cody.
“Well if they did their fun pillows would freeze and fall off. So, jot this down. Pick up Regen at Calgary International at 11:10 at the Air Canada terminal on the twenty-fourth. You got that?”
“I got it.”
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
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