Owatonna U #3
A stalker threatens Ben, the lines between his hockey career and his love for Ethan blur, and abruptly their future seems like an impossible dream.
Senior year is here, and everything is on the line. Benoit’s time to shine in the crease is now, and he’s going to do everything he can to make sure those professional scouts take notice. He’s earned a great reputation for his skills in the net, and his laid-back demeanor is his key to maintaining his cool when things get heated in the goal crease.
As the Eagles roar into a new season, Ben’s laser-sharp focus is shattered by his attraction to Ethan Girard, the team’s new defensive consultant. Trying his best to ignore the budding friendship that’s taking a hard, fast turn into something far more passionate, Ben is determined to keep his mind on the sport he loves and not let his feelings for the handsome older man creep into his performance. But love, like hockey, is wildly unpredictable, and soon Ben finds that he’s unable to distance himself from Ethan who is slowly and surely working himself into his heart.
Famed Boston defenseman, Ethan Girard, isn’t stupid. Celebrating his thirty-second birthday in the emergency room after breaking his leg, and with a warning that healing will be a long process, he knows he has to think about his future. He was drafted at eighteen, and he’s never known anything but hockey, but with no contract in place yet for the new season he considers that maybe it’s time for him to hang up his skates for good.
Volunteering to help out with the Owatonna Eagles fills his time, but from the moment he lays eyes on goalie Ben, he knows his world will never be the same again. Falling in lust is as easy as stealing his first kiss, but Ben refuses to engage. Has Ethan finally met his match?
When the lines between career and love blur, will Ethan and Ben find a way to create a future that will work for both of them?
Original Review June 2019:
We got to see Benoit in Owatonna U Hockey book 2, Scott but only a tiny bit, we got a peak at how he views his friends, Scott and Ryker so it came as no surprise that he moved into the house with them when his story began. Ben's family is not in the book much but its enough to realize how important they are to the man and how they are part of what drives him on the ice, not the only reason he's focused but definitely a factor and a positive one at that. As for Ethan, I loved the fact that he is a player who realizes his limits and doesn't play till he can't and by that I mean too often in sports, players don't want to give it up and they stick around a season or two too many and their effectiveness or quality is poor or as the saying goes "past their prime". So kudos to the authors for having Ethan know his limits and even though it doesn't exactly take a lot of thinking on his part to come to this decision, you see its not an easy decision and through his inner monologue he weighs in on what he'll miss but also what he won't miss.
As for Ben and Ethan as a couple, the age gap may not be enough for the May/December tag but it is mentioned, both in seriousness and levity. Benoit's focus and Ethan's determination make for a great pairing and when they finally connect watching Ben's focus be divided was a treat. I think some author's would show the character with that kind of focus waver back and forth, should I or shouldn't I, but Scott and Locey go the route of dividing his focus and have Ben worry about each suffering because of it. When he talks to the Railers' goalie, Stan, that scene is short(almost too short😉) but oh so memorable. Ben may need help deciphering "Stan-speak" but once he understands the advice he puts it to good use.
I rarely mention specific moments in a book as I don't do spoilers and to me everything can be a spoiler but in this case I need to mention this one. First, I'll point out that as a western Wisconsinite we are virtually held hostage by the Minnesota media and 95% of the news and sports we get is only Minnesota. Even though I'm not a hockey fan and don't follow the sport I have to admit I did my fair share of giggling(even now as I write this I find myself chuckling) when Benoit and his friends went to the Railers/Wild game and the authors had the Railers "trounce" the Wild. Perhaps this is just a personal thing for me because the Minnesota news media have the Wild winning the Stanley Cup every year after they manage to win two games in a row but I found it absolutely, delightfully funny and want to thank Scott & Locey for that moment😉😉.
When we first met Ryker way back in Ten and Jared's romantic beginnings in Changing Lines(Harrisburg Railers #1) I had a feeling we'd see his story eventually, I wasn't sure how or when but I knew the authors would put it to print. What I didn't expect was his own series or his friends' stories as well. Is Owatonna U Hockey as good as Harrisburg Railers? Maybe not but it is pretty darn close and I have loved every single one. Benoit and Ethan may not have reached my heart as close as Ryker and Jacob or Scott and Hayne but that is mostly down to just the order of the series. When a series has a new couple with each entry, 98% of the time they rank the order they are written and for no other reason then that. If Benoit is the final Owatonna U book, its a gem to be savored.
One last final note: if you're wondering about the order of reading then I highly suggest reading in the order it was written. As I've stated, each entry has a different pairing but the friendships flow better and the primary characters from Ryker and Scott have their moments in Benoit. Will you be lost if you start with Benoit? No, but personally I can't imagine not knowing Ryker and Scott's journeys first. For those who are completely new to Scott & Locey's hockey stories, I also recommend reading their Harrisburg Railers first, you won't be lost but there are points that will make a little more sense knowing those stories first but again that is just my personal recommendation. And for those who, like me are not hockey fans, they include just enough hockey lingo and descriptions to understand what the players are doing and not teaching you the ins and outs of the sport, these are not hockey-for-dummy stories, these are romance, friendship, and life journeys at heart that should not be missed.
RATING:
RJ Scott
VL Locey
As the Eagles roar into a new season, Ben’s laser-sharp focus is shattered by his attraction to Ethan Girard, the team’s new defensive consultant. Trying his best to ignore the budding friendship that’s taking a hard, fast turn into something far more passionate, Ben is determined to keep his mind on the sport he loves and not let his feelings for the handsome older man creep into his performance. But love, like hockey, is wildly unpredictable, and soon Ben finds that he’s unable to distance himself from Ethan who is slowly and surely working himself into his heart.
Famed Boston defenseman, Ethan Girard, isn’t stupid. Celebrating his thirty-second birthday in the emergency room after breaking his leg, and with a warning that healing will be a long process, he knows he has to think about his future. He was drafted at eighteen, and he’s never known anything but hockey, but with no contract in place yet for the new season he considers that maybe it’s time for him to hang up his skates for good.
Volunteering to help out with the Owatonna Eagles fills his time, but from the moment he lays eyes on goalie Ben, he knows his world will never be the same again. Falling in lust is as easy as stealing his first kiss, but Ben refuses to engage. Has Ethan finally met his match?
When the lines between career and love blur, will Ethan and Ben find a way to create a future that will work for both of them?
We got to see Benoit in Owatonna U Hockey book 2, Scott but only a tiny bit, we got a peak at how he views his friends, Scott and Ryker so it came as no surprise that he moved into the house with them when his story began. Ben's family is not in the book much but its enough to realize how important they are to the man and how they are part of what drives him on the ice, not the only reason he's focused but definitely a factor and a positive one at that. As for Ethan, I loved the fact that he is a player who realizes his limits and doesn't play till he can't and by that I mean too often in sports, players don't want to give it up and they stick around a season or two too many and their effectiveness or quality is poor or as the saying goes "past their prime". So kudos to the authors for having Ethan know his limits and even though it doesn't exactly take a lot of thinking on his part to come to this decision, you see its not an easy decision and through his inner monologue he weighs in on what he'll miss but also what he won't miss.
As for Ben and Ethan as a couple, the age gap may not be enough for the May/December tag but it is mentioned, both in seriousness and levity. Benoit's focus and Ethan's determination make for a great pairing and when they finally connect watching Ben's focus be divided was a treat. I think some author's would show the character with that kind of focus waver back and forth, should I or shouldn't I, but Scott and Locey go the route of dividing his focus and have Ben worry about each suffering because of it. When he talks to the Railers' goalie, Stan, that scene is short(almost too short😉) but oh so memorable. Ben may need help deciphering "Stan-speak" but once he understands the advice he puts it to good use.
I rarely mention specific moments in a book as I don't do spoilers and to me everything can be a spoiler but in this case I need to mention this one. First, I'll point out that as a western Wisconsinite we are virtually held hostage by the Minnesota media and 95% of the news and sports we get is only Minnesota. Even though I'm not a hockey fan and don't follow the sport I have to admit I did my fair share of giggling(even now as I write this I find myself chuckling) when Benoit and his friends went to the Railers/Wild game and the authors had the Railers "trounce" the Wild. Perhaps this is just a personal thing for me because the Minnesota news media have the Wild winning the Stanley Cup every year after they manage to win two games in a row but I found it absolutely, delightfully funny and want to thank Scott & Locey for that moment😉😉.
When we first met Ryker way back in Ten and Jared's romantic beginnings in Changing Lines(Harrisburg Railers #1) I had a feeling we'd see his story eventually, I wasn't sure how or when but I knew the authors would put it to print. What I didn't expect was his own series or his friends' stories as well. Is Owatonna U Hockey as good as Harrisburg Railers? Maybe not but it is pretty darn close and I have loved every single one. Benoit and Ethan may not have reached my heart as close as Ryker and Jacob or Scott and Hayne but that is mostly down to just the order of the series. When a series has a new couple with each entry, 98% of the time they rank the order they are written and for no other reason then that. If Benoit is the final Owatonna U book, its a gem to be savored.
One last final note: if you're wondering about the order of reading then I highly suggest reading in the order it was written. As I've stated, each entry has a different pairing but the friendships flow better and the primary characters from Ryker and Scott have their moments in Benoit. Will you be lost if you start with Benoit? No, but personally I can't imagine not knowing Ryker and Scott's journeys first. For those who are completely new to Scott & Locey's hockey stories, I also recommend reading their Harrisburg Railers first, you won't be lost but there are points that will make a little more sense knowing those stories first but again that is just my personal recommendation. And for those who, like me are not hockey fans, they include just enough hockey lingo and descriptions to understand what the players are doing and not teaching you the ins and outs of the sport, these are not hockey-for-dummy stories, these are romance, friendship, and life journeys at heart that should not be missed.
One
Benoit
Move-in day.
Senior year.
Final season with the Eagles.
Last chance to be the breakout young goalie that Edmonton would not pass up for a future higher draft pick.
No pressure.
“Mom, where are the water bottles?” I shouted from my new room on the second floor of the house Ryker and Scott had insisted I move into. The house Ryker’s father had bought and Scott and Hayne called home, although they lived in the attic/studio.
Chucking clothes aside, I then dug into bag after bag, looking for the small plastic bottles of fresh, clear Canadian water we’d packed. “Oh no, come on.” I whipped a sneaker over my head. Why had I packed one Nike but not the other? “Where are they?”
“Dude, seriously, I nearly suffered blunt head trauma walking past your door,” Ryker said, flinging the blue Nike back into my room.
I spun, my hands in fists, and gaped at my friend, and now fellow housemate, staring at me. “I can’t find the water. Ryker, I’m seriously freaking out. You know this American water isn’t fit for my crease. Have you seen my water? Where’s my mother?”
“Ben, breathe. Do the yoga stuff. In. Out. In. Out.” He padded into my room, hands up in a placating manner, his eyes nearly obscured by long wavy hair. Hair he’d let grow out over the summer for Jacob, his boyfriend, who was now back on the farm, several hours away from campus.
“Right, yeah, calming breaths. I’m okay now.” I sat on the edge of my bed, closed my eyes, and focused on inhaling and exhaling. Ryker dropped down beside me, looping an arm around my shoulders. “It’s cool. No worries. If I forgot them, Mom will just ship me more.”
“Totally correct,” Ryker said, leaning into my side a bit. “Your mom is on top of things. And your sister…”
“Dude, don’t talk about my sister unless it’s to say she’s amazing, because she is.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything about Tamara other than she’s super amazing.”
Right. I knew guys. I was one. I might not have been straight or even bi, I tended to think of myself as pan or omni, if picking categories was essential, which it’s not, but society gets hung up on labels. I tended to fall for people first and not worry over genders. Heart matters, not genitals. I did kind of dig older men for some reason, but other than that, I was open to dating anyone.
“And is really pretty.”
I opened my eyes, turned my head, and gave Ryker my best touch-her-and-die big brother look.
“And is only seventeen,” I reminded him. “And why are you checking out my sister when you have a boyfriend?”
“What? Am I dead or something? Jacob and I are allowed to look, discreetly. Man, why did you mention him?” He groaned, falling back onto my naked mattress as if he’d been shot with a crossbow. “It was like five whole minutes since I last thought of him. Seriously, Ben, I think I’m going to fucking die without him here this year.”
“Nah, you’ll be good. You can visit on weekends.” I patted his thigh.
“Sure, when the roads are passable, which is hardly ever in the winter. You’re smart. You’ve totally avoided the agony of relationships and focused on hockey. Dad told me to do that but then… Jacob.” He sighed dramatically. “I’m going to die. I can feel it. Death is imminent.”
I wanted to say something but bit down on any reply. Honestly, it wasn’t that I didn’t want someone in my life; I did. It was an aching hole inside me. Being the fifth wheel all the time sucked. But I hadn’t found the right person, and this year dating was taking a massive backseat to hockey and studying. I had to maintain good grades, and I had to make sure Edmonton didn’t let me slip through their fingers. They had thirty days after I graduated. If they opted out? Well, they just couldn’t opt out. I’d dreamed of playing for them ever since I was old enough to stand on skates. I’d grown up idolizing Grant Fuhr and then had added Malcolm Subban to my list of black goalies to emulate if and when I had the chance to go pro. I had to make it. For my heroes, for my family, and for myself and all the black kids who wanted to play the game.
No pressure at all.
“Looking for these, maybe?” Tamara asked, stepping into the doorway, in jean shorts and a flowery little summer top, holding my precious bottles of Quebec water. “He okay?”
“Yeah, he’s mourning his boyfriend.” I shot up, leaving Ryker spread out on my bed making odd, pained noises.
“Oh my God, is he dead?” my sister, who really is the prettiest and sweetest thing ever, gasped.
“No, just graduated,” I explained, taking the four half-gallon containers and hugging them to my chest. People might think that importing water from your home lake was stupid, but it wasn’t. American water wasn’t pure enough. It made the ice bumpy. I know. I’m a goalie. I have a relationship with the ice in my crease. Some tendies talk to their pipes. I groomed my ice with tender loving care, and it loved me in return. Maybe I should start dating my ice…
“I see she found you,” Mom said, carrying my pads into the room, Jared Madsen on her heels, with another box full of skates and several goalie sticks under his arms. He seemed as tired as my mother did. Kind of worried too. Guess he was more concerned about Ryker than he let on, although I’d known he was worried when he’d called me at home in Stanstead over the summer to ask me to move in here with Ryker to keep him company and on track. I’d promised I’d do my best, but it was asking a lot.
“Yeah, thanks.” I hurried to relieve my mom of my gear. Mr. Madsen dumped his armful onto the bed, covering Ryker, who lay there whining softly.
“Ryker, you have a ton of stuff yet to move in. Come on.” Mr. Madsen patted Ryker’s denim-covered knee, gave me a weak smile, and then left us to it.
Ryker sat up, blinked, and slouched off to help his dad with his boxes and bags. Tamara began decorating, looking for a box of thumbtacks and getting my posters of Malcolm in net and Swollen Members unrolled. Every time Mom looked at the rap group from Vancouver, she would roll her eyes at their name. Mom and Dad were more Smokey Robinson or Teddy Pendergrass lovers, although Mom had said that if she were thirty years younger, Drake would be in trouble.
“You look tense. Why are you tense already? School or hockey hasn’t even started,” Mom asked a few minutes later while we were making my bed. A double. No way did a twin fit me anymore. She shook out the flat sheet, and it drifted down over the fitted sheet hugging the mattress. “Honey, you have to remember what your father told you. The weight of the world does not rest on your shoulders. Nor does our situation.”
“I know,” I replied while I shoved the ends of the sheet under the mattress.
I heard her tut and glanced from the wadded-up sheet to her proud face. Tiny but strong, Mom had been carrying the brunt of the financial situation at home since my father had been diagnosed with sarcoidosis, an inflammatory disease that affects his organs. It was a condition that none of us had ever heard of before. Abnormal masses grow in the affected organs. For my father, it was his lungs and lymph nodes. His had gone undiagnosed for a long time, his persistent cough related to his damn smoking habit, or so we’d all assumed. His condition was chronic, and his lungs and vision were already compromised. Things had changed so much in one summer.
One day he’d gone in for a physical when he’d changed jobs and—BAM—the chest X-ray had shown some suspicious spots. It had been really stressful finding the right team of doctors and the correct diagnosis. Thank God we lived in Canada. The medical bills for his treatment and doctors would have bankrupted us if we’d lived here in the States.
Dad now suffered from shortness of breath, fatigue, and swollen joints, which kept him at home for the most part and unable to work. That was where he was now, home, running a course of meds while resting and grumbling about being on oxygen at fifty. Not being able to drive me to campus also upset him. As did the possibility of missing my games. He was my biggest fan.
If I could make a splash this season, the scouts would be all over me, talking me up, and I’d hopefully get an invite to a rookie tournament and maybe training camp. If I worked hard, I might make the team. Then I’d be making money. Real money. Money that would help ease the burden of my dad’s illness and the cost of my college education, as well as Tamara’s. This year was beyond important. There could be no distractions.
“You know, but you’re not taking it to heart,” Mom replied, as she always did whenever we discussed life and Dad’s illness.
Tamara leaped into the conversation, my favorite poster of Drake in her hand. “Okay, so how about we put Drake over the bed? This way you look up at him at night while you—”
“Tamara!” Mom gasped, erasing the creeping unease that was settling on the room.
“What? I was going to say he could look at him at night while he tries to fall asleep. God, Mom, you’re such a pervert.”
I chuckled at my sister. Always keenly aware of tension and doing her best to alleviate it. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and before I was ready, I was hugging my mother and sister goodbye out in the street. Mr. Madsen had left as well.
“Tell Dad I love him.” I held the passenger side door open for my mother. Tamara was driving back home. Poor Mom. I’d ridden with my sister in the past. She tended to lose track of things like speed limits when she was bopping around to whatever K-Pop band the girls were obsessing over at the moment. Not that I blamed her for her love of Asian men, but safety first, seriously.
“I want you to promise me that you’ll take time for things besides hockey.” Mom took my chin in her hand, forcing me to stare into big brown eyes just like mine and Tamara’s.
“She means find a boyfriend,” Tamara tossed out as she buckled in. “Or a girlfriend. Just get out of your head and enjoy senior year.”
I was going to reply, but the K-Pop flared to life. Mom rolled her eyes, kissed me on the cheek, and then released my chin. I closed the door soundly, patted the roof, and hurried to get back onto the curb before Tamara ran over my toes.
Poor Mom. I wasn’t sure I could do over twenty hours of BTS no matter how mouthwatering Asian guys were. Good thing they had a hotel lined up for the night. Mom would need the break. They pulled away, I waved, and then Scott appeared at my side, his thick arm resting around my neck.
“We’re doing stir-fry for dinner. You want some?”
I nodded, gave the taillights of my mother’s car a long last look, and then ambled back into the house, the smell of the fresh paint on the walls still strong. Ryker’s dads—dad and stepdad, but Tennant had informed us that we must call him ”Ryker’s Pop” just to twist Ryker’s nuts—had dropped some big cash into the place. New paint, carpeting, and a whole house rewire to get things up to code. It was nice now, clean and tidy, which I preferred. My old place had been a pigsty, and no matter how much Jacob and I had pleaded with the other guys on the team, they just would not pick up after themselves.
In the small kitchen, Hayne threw us a glance over a bare shoulder, his smile timid but welcoming. He had blue paint on his nose and in his wild curls. The guy was totally cute, shy around us yet, but not as bad as he had been, and madly in love with Scott. They kissed all the time. We sat down at the secondhand table and ate, the four of us, talking about our final year at OU while forking in pork, green peppers, mushrooms, bok choy, and broccoli florets. Hayne had graduated last year and was trying to make a go of it as an artist. The meal was perfect for athletes. I scraped the last spoonful of food out of the wok, playfully tussling over it with Ryker until Scott stole the plate from my hand and wolfed down the remains in one massive inhalation.
“Dude!” Ryker shouted, threw an arm around Scott’s neck, and they rolled to the floor, wrestling and laughing. I jumped back, as did Hayne, both of us leaping up to sit on the counters until a victor was decided.
“Who do you pick to win?” I asked Hayne.
“Mm, maybe Scott.”
“Okay, I’ll take Ryker to win. Loser cleans the kitchen.”
Hayne nodded, curls falling into his face, and we shook. Five minutes later, I was elbow deep in soap bubbles since the dishwasher was still waiting for the repairman to arrive.
“Dude cheats,” Ryker grumbled. “Tickling is totally not a wrestling move.”
“Just dry faster, giggle goose.”
“‘Giggle goose’? Really?”
“Just dry.”
“Canadians are lame chirpers.”
The second wrestling match of the night ended with Ryker washing and drying. Someone had to represent Canada and our chirping ability. Sitting on Ryker’s back while shoving my wet fingers into his ears had taught him a lesson he’d not soon forget. Truthfully, we’d both laughed like fools throughout the wet willy episode. It was kind of hard to stay mad at Ryker.
After dinner, I took a walk around campus, skates slung over my shoulder. Kids were rolling in from all over the country, and Canada, of course. The hockey and football programs here were top-notch. Stopping along the way to the rink, small squirt bottle in my back pocket, I chatted with a few returning students, several inviting me and the guys—Ryker and Scott—to this party or that party. People always wanted jocks at their parties. I smiled politely because I am Canadian and said we’d see if we could make it.
I had no intention of going to any parties this year unless they were team-sponsored events. Ryker going was doubtful, not without Jacob at his side, and Scott needed to stay as far away from booze and dope as he could get. Plus, Scott was happy at home with Hayne, cuddling on the couch, kissing and touching, whispering as lovers do. A twang of envy flared to life as I strolled around the quad. I swallowed that down like a sour belch. There was no point in dwelling over romance. This year I was a monk. Just call me Father Morin. No parties, no sex, no falling in love with this girl’s eyes or that guy’s lips. Work, study, focus, serenity. Those were my four agreements, my personal guide to making sure life went as I needed it to go.
Passing the massive football stadium, skates draped casually over my shoulder, I slipped into the hockey rink, the warm August air replaced by the snap of artificial cold. I breathed in the smell of ice and men and felt a knot in my shoulders loosen. It had always been this way with me and hockey. The sounds, the smells, the speed, and the competition. It was close to a religious experience or perhaps even a sexual one.
“Brain, you’ve got to stop with the sex shit, okay? We’re chaste this year, remember?” I mumbled, trotting along toward the Eagles locker room, then hanging a right to the tunnel that led to the ice. And there it was. Eagles home ice. The screaming raptor already painted into the circle at the center ice. The ice was pristine, untouched by any skate, virginal, innocent of the way of barbaric hockey players who would gouge it up and spit on it, bleed and fight on it, strive to make dreams come true on it. It was chaste, and I was going to pop its… “Brain, come on, we’ve got to stop this. Trust me, it’s going to be a long dry spell. We need to focus on the important things.”
I needed to go home and meditate. But this took precedence. I sat on the Eagles bench, toed off my ratty sneakers, and slid my feet into my goalie skates. The ice glittered and winked at me, an alluring temptation. The only temptation that I could indulge in for two semesters.
When blade touched ice, the tension centered in my chest eased. I skated to my crease, the blue in front of the net unspoiled. I dropped to one knee, ran my hand over it, felt the cold seep into my fingertips, and closed my eyes.
“I’ll treat you well, pretty ice. Make you stronger, but in return, I ask you to take care of me as I care for you.” My pathetic poem to the ice had been the same since I was ten. I lifted my fingers to my lips, kissed them, and then placed the kiss to the ice. The hum of the air-conditioners and two men working floated over me. “Know that when I do this, I’m working to make us both more powerful.”
I stood up, pulled out my small bottle of water from Quebec, and squirted it over the blue. Then, with a soft apology, I began working the ice, using my blades to chew it up into fine powder, mixing the better ice—from my home lake—into the Minnesota ice. I scraped and I patted until I felt it was perfect. Then I turned to caress the pipes, which I felt lacked the magic of ice but were still my friends. The pipes were like Ryker, a buddy, but the ice was like a lover and required tenderness.
When I was done, I stood off to the side of my net, admiring the marriage of American and Canadian ice, then went off to find the Zamboni driver to let him know that my crease was not to be touched by him or his machine until after our first team practice. He nodded but looked at me as if I’d lost my marbles. Whatever. Only another goalie would understand. That ice was now mine, and I’d protect it passionately, just as I would a sweetheart. I’d caress it and coo to it, stroke it until it trembled with need and begged me to…
“Right, off to meditate.”
Saturday's Series Spotlight
🏒👨❤️👨🏒💖👬💖🏒👨❤️💋👨🏒
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.
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
VL Locey
EMAIL: vicki@vllocey.com
Benoit #3
Owatonna U Series
Harrisburg Series
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