Sunday, August 31, 2025
📚Sunday's Short Stack(Back to School Edition)📚: Weight of Silence by AM Arthur
Cost of Repairs #3
Gavin Perez is fully aware that he's kind of a cliché. He works a dead-end job, shares a trailer with his waitress mom, has an abusive, absentee sperm donor, and he's poor. So color him shocked when middle-class, white-bread Jace Ramsey agrees to hang out with him. Granted, Gavin is trying to make it up to Junior McHottie for dumping a bowl of cranberry sauce on him at Thanksgiving dinner. And boy does Jace forgive him, over and over again…until he goes back to college and stops returning Gavin's calls. Oh well. Life goes on.
After living through the semester from hell, Jace Ramsey doesn't want to do anything more complicated than sleep through winter break. He has no idea how to come out to his family, never mind tell his parents he wants to quit college. He also has zero plans to socialize while he’s home, but Gavin's ready forgiveness draws them back together—both in and out of bed. But Gavin is out, and Jace knows he won't be able to stay in the closet much longer.
Gavin isn't good enough for Jace—at all—but Gavin simply can’t stay away from the younger, haunted man. Something happened to Jace during those weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Jace trusts Gavin with his body. He might even trust Gavin with his heart. But can he trust that a devastating secret that’s eating him up inside won’t destroy everything—and everyone—he loves?
NOTE: This book was previously published under the same title. It has updated cover art and has been re-edited. 3700 words of new content has been added, including a brand-new epilogue.
You can't help but love both Jace and Gavin. They both seem so disheartened by life but in each other they find a little piece of what life could really be. But are they both too jaded to take a chance on love and each other? For that you have to read Weight of Silence for yourself but trust me, you won't regret it. Definite win all the way around.
**Blogger Note: I reviewed the original published version in 2013, since then the author has released a re-edited version with a new epilogue which I have not read.**
RATING:
One
Thanksgiving Day
At precisely 1:21 p.m., Gavin Perez dumped an entire serving bowl’s worth of cranberry sauce on the most adorable boy he’d ever seen. Gavin knew the exact time of the saucing because his mother had just asked him for it (the time, not the sauce), and the only reason he wasn’t looking in front of him was because he’d glanced down at his cell phone.
Head down + Push door = Disaster.
He couldn’t blame his mother. She’d asked an innocent question. Gavin should have stopped walking long enough to check his phone and answer her question. Should have. Did not. Usually did not and/or could not. They’d never had the money for an official doctor’s diagnosis, but Gavin had all the major traits of adult hyperactivity.
Plus he’d read a bunch of books on the topic. After twenty-three years, he figured he knew a heck of a lot about himself, including his incurable need to multitask from waking to bedtime. He also had a long mental list of mishaps and accidents caused by his need to be on the move and going at optimum speed. The cranberry sauce collision just jumped to the top of said list.
And to be fair to himself, the incredible cutie he’d sauced hadn’t seen him either, or gotten out of the way. They were both trying to go through the same door at the rear of the diner—Gavin into the back room and Cutie Pie out of it and into the dining room. The door had a wide window at eye-level, probably to prevent such accidents during regular business hours, and neither of them had used it.
Gavin had stopped short the moment he realized he’d caused an accident, and Mama ran right into his back, which nearly made him ram into the door a second time. He grabbed it as it swung back at him, ignored Mama’s curious squawk, and peeked around the corner.
Cutie Pie gaped down at the huge splotch of red goo clinging to the front of his white dress shirt. Most of the sauce was still in the bowl, but some had dripped to the floor and onto his shoes. He hadn’t even looked up yet to see who’d dressed him up like a Thanksgiving turkey. But in a diner as small as Dixie’s Cup—and with so many people rushing around getting food out to the counter—they’d already drawn a small audience.
“Dios mio,” Mama said. She’d inched around Gavin to see what had stopped him. “Oh dear, that’s going to stain.”
“My mother made this from scratch,” Cutie Pie said to the bowl of sauce.
“Most of it is still in there,” Gavin replied.
He thought it sounded helpful, but Cutie Pie gave him a sour look. “It splashed all up on my shirt. Do you think people want to eat cotton fibers with their cranberry relish?”
“Sorry.” That sounded horrible, even to Gavin’s ears. “I mean, I’m sorry about hitting you with the door.”
“My fault too.” He gave the cranberry relish such a forlorn, kicked-puppy look that Gavin was struck momentarily speechless—and that didn’t happen often.
“Look, dinner doesn’t start for twenty minutes,” Gavin said. “I’m sure we can find some canned sauce somewhere.”
“On Thanksgiving Day?”
“No need,” Mama said. “We have some in the stock room. We can doctor that up and use it for today.”
Cutie Pie blinked. “Why does Dixie have canned cranberry sauce in stock?”
“For Barrett’s Gobbler Panini. It’s a lovely sandwich he does on special once a week.”
“Oh.”
Gavin gave himself a mental head-knock. Ever since Dixie had splurged on a Panini press two months ago, her night cook Barrett McCall had been experimenting with combinations. The Gobbler had been a success from the first day. Mama had called Gavin in to taste test it before it went public, and he’d called it “Thanksgiving on a bun”.
Barrett had corrected him and said it was “Thanksgiving on ciabatta”.
“Great. Problem solved,” Gavin said.
Mama ushered the three of them into the small, cramped back room of the diner. She took the bowl of ruined sauce from Cutie and stuck it in the large industrial sink, then disappeared to root around for the canned sauce.
“Half the problem is solved,” Cutie said. “I need to change.”
There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, sweetie, very nearly popped out of Gavin’s mouth. That would have been incredibly embarrassing. The simple fact that Cutie Pie was here helping out with Dixie Foskey’s annual Thanksgiving Feast meant she knew his family, which meant Gavin should know him too. After all, Gavin’s mom had worked for Dixie for over ten years and Cutie Pie was awfully familiar.
“I mean, my shirt’s ruined,” Cutie added.
“Not necessarily,” Gavin said.
“So big red spots on white shirts are fashionable now?”
The light-hearted tease gave Gavin hope that he hadn’t made a total disaster of a first impression. “Well, maybe in a hipper town than Stratton, but we can save the shirt.”
“How?”
“Take it off.”
“Hey, Jace, what’s—oh.” A brown-haired girl stopped in the back room doorway, eyes wide as she took in the pair of them. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Minor accident,” said Cutie Pie, whose name was apparently Jace.
Light bulb!
Gavin knew exactly who they both were now. Jace and Rachel Ramsey, twins, college sophomores, children of Keith Ramsey, local police officer. The Ramseys had been staples of the diner for years, and Gavin had seen Jace dozens of times before without getting lost in the dark shaggy hair, the wide brown eyes or the dimples that wanted to say hello even when he wasn’t smiling.
College had been good to Jace Ramsey.
“But we’re going to fix it,” Gavin said, giving Rachel a bright smile.
“How?” she asked. “With blindfolds?”
“Cute. No.”
Gavin rescued the ruined cranberry relish from the sink, grabbed Jace by the wrist, and dragged both items around to the small bathroom. He ran the water in the sink until it warmed up, then pulled the stopper and dumped half the cranberries into it.
“Take your shirt off, please,” he said again.
Jace gave him a dubious look but unbuttoned his shirt. Gavin reigned in his instinctive need to check him out—ogling while trying to be helpful was rude—and took the shirt once Jace had stripped it off. Gavin shoved the whole thing into the pink water, which enticed an adorable squeak of protest from Jace.
“Trust me,” Gavin said.
“Do I have to?”
“It’s too late now.”
When the sink was half-full, Gavin turned off the water and swirled the shirt around in it. He realized too late he should have been using gloves, because the water quickly stained his cuticles pink. After a minute of soaking in silence, he released the stopper.
“There should be a hair dryer in that basket of stuff beside the toilet,” Gavin said. “Can you find it and plug it in?”
Jace hesitated then turned around to rummage. He bent over, instead of squatting down, and the narrow room gave Gavin a lovely view of his ass in those black linen dress pants. An ass that was connected to a trim waist and a lean, smooth back… Nope. Gavin snapped his attention back to rinsing out the shirt. The white material was now stained pink all over, instead of only on the front, and by the time the rinse water ran clear, Jace was back with the hair dryer at the ready.
They tag-teamed the shirt until the newly pink fabric was dry enough to wear and only smelled slightly of fruit.
“That was kind of brilliant,” Jace said after he’d put the hair dryer away.
“I was an accident prone kid. Sometimes you have to get creative when there’s no money to buy new clothes.” Gavin wasn’t ashamed of growing up poor. Most people in Stratton knew him and his mother, and they also knew his father was a deadbeat asshole who Gavin had vowed to kill if he ever laid a hand on him or his mother again.
Jace eyed the shirt but didn’t put it on. He didn’t seem to know where to focus his attention—the shirt, the floor or Gavin. The bizarre nervousness made hopeful little butterflies spring loose in Gavin’s stomach. He hadn’t actually lucked into meeting someone his own age in town who was—
“Hey, you guys coming?” Rachel asked. She appeared in the doorway, and her thin eyebrows shot up when she saw the shirt in Jace’s hands. “Wow, you fixed it.”
“Kind of,” Jace said.
“It’s all one color now. I call that fixed.”
“It’s pink.”
“Yeah? So are roses and baby butts. Suit up, bro, I’m hungry.”
Gavin laughed before he could stop himself. He liked Rachel already.
Jace gave him a look that seemed to say, “Don’t encourage her,” then put on the shirt. Gavin didn’t say it out loud, but he allowed himself a moment to appreciate the fact that Jace looked very good in pale pink. It lightened up his brown hair and made him even more boyishly adorable than he already was. Gavin, with his mixed Mexican and Hawaiian heritage, never had the complexion for pastels.
“All you need is a black string tie,” Gavin said once Jace buttoned back up and presented himself for inspection. “And maybe a jacket to sling over your shoulder. It’s very Sinatra.”
“Great, I’m channeling a dead singer,” Jace said. He was smiling though, which gave Gavin hope that he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself.
“A dead singer who had men and women falling all over him.”
Jace’s eyebrows jumped. “And probably a mafia boss or two puppeteering his entire career.”
“A man who knows old Hollywood.” Gavin had to mentally stop himself from falling head over heels into insta-crush with Jace. “Where have you been my whole life?”
A clever comeback failed Jace, and Rachel turned away with a soft giggle that made the hairs on the back of Gavin’s neck prickle. Gavin had come out to his mother when he was fourteen, and he’d never been shy about his sexuality around his peers. A small town like Stratton left him with few dating options, which mean frequent trips into Harrisburg for more exciting weekend entertainment than watching his straight friends get laid. But Jace Ramsey, who Gavin had always considered a straight WASP from the suburbs, was actually blushing over Gavin’s comment.
Jace + Gay = Too good to be true.
“Anywho,” Gavin said, “they’re probably ready to start serving out there.”
“Yeah, we should go.”
And they did, out into a diner full of people chatting in small groups. Dixie had begun the Thanksgiving Day tradition more than ten years ago when she found out her recently hired waitress Lucìa and her son Gavin didn’t have money for even a basic Turkey Day meal. She invited them to eat with her and her nephew Schuyler, who was home from college with a roommate who couldn’t afford the trip home to be with his own family. The following year, Dixie held the dinner in the diner and invited more people. By its fifth year, Thanksgiving at the diner was a tradition, with more than a dozen families coming to eat. Most contributed some sort of side dish or dessert, and all of the food was set up at the counter assembly-line style.
Schuyler Rhodes, local art teacher and snazzy dresser, was in his usual spot at the far end of the counter, ready to carve the first of two turkeys. Several other folks were lined up with him to help serve different dishes that included sweet potatoes, cracker dressing, cornbread dressing, several different kinds of vegetables, macaroni and cheese and a green bean casserole that Barrett McCall had deconstructed and remade from scratch.
Deconstructed for the fun of it, he’d told Gavin earlier that morning, to which Gavin had rolled his eyes. His own culinary endeavors extended to frozen dinners and instant rice. The microwave was his best friend in the kitchen. He was the only person he knew who could burn water.
Jace and Rachel rejoined their family—Keith and his wife, Becky, and their older sister Lauren. The five of them made a perfect middle-class unit, with their nice clothes and matching brown hair and smiles. Gavin was used to sticking out in a crowd, but for some reason, today his unique look and the thrift store dress shoes made him feel uncomfortable. He hadn’t felt so uncomfortable in a crowded room of people since he’d presented an eighth-grade science project in front of an auditorium full of his classmates.
Gavin joined Dixie, Schuyler, Barrett, Mama and their overnight cook Old Joe behind the counter to serve. Gavin had volunteered to serve this year when Rey King bowed out of the entire dinner. Apparently he’d gone to New Mexico with his boyfriend to spend time with Samuel’s family; but nice guy (and fantastic chef) that he was, he’d left a cold broccoli slaw behind to be served to Dixie’s guests.
A new bowl of cranberry sauce sat next to the other cold salads. Gavin glanced down the line to Mama and she winked.
After a piercing whistle quieted the room, Dixie stood up on a chair to address everyone. Her wild, frizzy white hair was tied back beneath a pilgrim hat-printed bandana, and she was wearing her favorite turkey apron. “Hey, everyone,” she said. “Welcome. As always, we’ve got some new faces, and we’ve got some old faces. We’ve also got some really old faces—” she pointed at herself, and everyone laughed, “—and a few faces who aren’t here this year. But now that we’re together under one roof, let’s celebrate what we’re thankful for and eat some fabulous food.”
Dixie went on to say a brief grace, which Gavin tuned out—he didn’t see much point in thanking someone who never seemed to pay much attention to him or his mother—and then it was time to serve. He chatted with everyone who came through the line. Even if his mother didn’t still work here, he’d been a busboy all through high school, so he knew pretty much everyone anyway.
The Ramseys came through with their plates and Gavin doled out spoonfuls of their chosen vegetables. Jace was last, and he couldn’t seem to look Gavin in the eye, which Gavin found incredibly endearing. Jace did, however, manage to ask for a little extra of the candied carrots and creamed spinach, which Gavin filed away for future reference. He never knew when favorite foods might become useful information.
Once the line was down and everyone else was served, the servers grabbed plates and helped themselves. Gavin loaded his with turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, and as many of the other sides as he could handle without it all spilling onto the floor. His somewhat plump mother always bemoaned his bizarre metabolism and ability to eat anything he wanted and still stay thin as a rail. Gavin blamed it on being tall. And hyperactive.
All of the tables had been arranged in the center of the diner as one long, continuous line so they could eat community-style. Gavin was mildly disappointed that Jace was sandwiched on both sides by his sisters, so Gavin took a seat near the far end with Mama, Schuyler and Barrett.
“—swear his shirt was white when they got here,” Schuyler was saying when Gavin sat down.
“Whose shirt was white?” he asked innocently.
“Jace’s. It was white and now it’s pink.”
“Are you sure?”
Mama laughed and covered with a cough. Barrett patted Schuyler’s shoulder and said, “It’s okay. I think you’re just getting senile.”
Schuyler frowned. “Look who’s talking, old man.”
Gavin grinned. The pair were nowhere near old, but they were pretty funny to watch together. Outside of his art room at school, Schuyler had always been so stiff and boring. Barrett seemed to bring out his fun, livelier side.
Gavin was too busy stuffing his face to contribute to the various conversations happening around him. He ate fast, always had and always would, because he hated sitting still for too long. Even for meals. Mama said he’d been a terror as a toddler, never wanting to stay put longer than three minutes at a time before running off to play. It had been hell on his father’s temper, though, which he’d take out on Mama, and that was one of the few things Gavin actively regretted.
He’d filled his plate so well that he didn’t need to go for seconds, but the opportunity to chat with Jace presented itself when the object of his attention stood up and headed for the food. Gavin grabbed his plate and quickly excused himself. His stomach was tight and full to bursting, and his neck prickled with awareness when he stood next to Jace in front of the vegetable dishes.
“So how’s the cranberry sauce?” Gavin whispered.
Jace choked and nearly dropped the carrot spoon. “Apparently your mom explained the accident to my mom, and now my mom is considering the merits of natural fruit fabric dyes.”
Gavin snickered. “I didn’t know your mom was that crafty.”
“She’s not, she just spends too much time on Pinterest.”
“Ah.” He watched Jace scoop up more carrots, spinach and someone’s three-bean salad. Gavin’s stomach hated him for the spoonful of carrots he added to his own plate. He would never take food he didn’t intend to eat, but he didn’t want to be so obvious about why he’d returned to the counter.
“So you go to Temple, right?” Gavin asked, hoping to stall the conversation a while longer.
“Yeah, Rachel and I both go there.”
They moved out of the way of some other folks who wanted food and stood off to the side with their plates.
“Do you like it?”
Jace hesitated. “It’s okay. I’ve never been the academic type like my sisters, so it’s hard for me. We’ve got finals two weeks after I get back.” He said the word finals like it tasted nasty in his mouth.
“I was never great at school.” Gavin got in trouble so often that he was lucky he’d graduated on time with his classmates. “Loved sports, though.”
“Yeah?” Jace gave him a once-over—probably confirming that yes, Gavin had an athlete’s body—but it came off as checking him out. And Jace blushed for the second time that day. Adorable. “What sports?”
“Football, basketball, baseball, you name it and I’ve played it. I wasn’t great at all of them, but I tried them all at least once.”
“It’s good to try new things.”
“So I’ve heard.” Jace seemed to correctly interpret the flirty line. Only instead of getting embarrassed, his awkward smile actually looked interested. Even though this was too good to be true, Gavin sped forward because he had nothing to lose. “You’re home for the whole weekend?”
“Until Sunday morning, yeah,” Jace said. “It’s not a long drive to Philly, but I have a paper due Monday and I didn’t want to bring the work home with me.”
“Makes sense. Look, my buddy Casper is having a party tomorrow night. Not a huge one, but some people I know, so if you’re interested it could be fun to hang or something.” Gavin was babbling, so he shut up and let his offer stand.
“You have a friend named Casper?”
“Nickname. Dude wouldn’t tan if you spray-painted him.”
Jace laughed, then his smile turned upside down. “You know I’m only nineteen, right?”
“Oh, well, you don’t have to drink. I usually don’t.” And that wasn’t a line. He hated alcohol—yet something else he could thank his jerk of a sperm donor for. “It was just a thought.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Jace grinned. “I don’t have any plans tomorrow. What time’s the party?”
“Nine-ish. I can pick you up.”
“Okay, cool. I’ll get your number before I leave today.”
“Sure, awesome.”
Gavin stood there for several seconds after Jace walked back to his family. He wasn’t going to make anything out of the “date” until something actually happened, but the fact that he was going to hang out with this crush-worthy boy for a few hours was enough to float him through the rest of the afternoon.
College had definitely been good to Jace Ramsey.
Saturday Series Spotlight
A.M. Arthur was born and raised in the same kind of small town that she likes to write about, a stone's throw from both beach resorts and generational farmland. She's been creating stories in her head since she was a child and scribbling them down nearly as long, in a losing battle to make the fictional voices stop. She credits an early fascination with male friendships (bromance hadn't been coined yet back then) with her later discovery of and subsequent love affair with m/m romance stories. A.M. Arthur's work is available from Carina Press, SMP Swerve, and Briggs-King Books.
When not exorcising the voices in her head, she toils away in a retail job that tests her patience and gives her lots of story fodder. She can also be found in her kitchen, pretending she's an amateur chef and trying to not poison herself or others with her cuisine experiments.
Weight of Silence #3
Cost of Repair Series
Saturday, August 30, 2025
📚Saturday's Series Spotlight(Back to School Edition)📚: Chestorford Coyotes by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Off the Ice #1
Summary:A coming-of-age love story with high school, hockey rivalry, friendship, family, and coming out.
Soren’s life changes in an instant when he and his younger brother are adopted by hockey royalty. Making sense of his new life is hard enough, but when he’s enrolled in a private school it means facing a whole new set of problems. Navigating friendship, family, and hockey is one thing, but being attracted to the boy who vexes him is a whole new thing..
Felix has a reputation to protect. He's the kid who seems to have everything but looks can be deceiving. Spinning lies about his perfect life, he’s created a fantasy world that even he has started to believe. Only, it’s not long before everything crumbles, all of his pretty lies are revealed, and only his closest rival sees through his pain and stands by him.
Fighting is easy, friendship is hard, but love is everything.
On Thin Ice #2
Summary:
A young adult hockey romance filled with making amends, family, friends, and discovering the real person inside while juggling the crazy, upside-down world of high school.
Jonah Robinson has really messed up. He’s spent the last year hanging out with someone who wasn’t leading him in a good direction. Now that Felix has seen the light, perhaps it’s time for Jonah to do the same. Making amends is not going to be easy when he’s not exactly been the nicest guy at Chesterford. With the help of his family and a special friend at the school, Jonah is ready to try to make things right with those he wronged. The first person on that long redemption list is Tyler, the brightest player on the Coyotes, at least in Jonah’s eyes. He’s taken a thousand pictures of Tyler for the school paper, but he’s going to have to learn how to develop more than just negatives if he wants to grow close to Tyler.
Tyler Corrigan’s dad has left, his mom is terrified he’ll come back, and it’s Tyler who’s left to keep his little family in one piece. The only respite from real life is playing hockey, and he’s an important part of the Chesterford Coyotes. Despite not being the biggest person on the ice, speed is his superpower, and the team has his back during the worst of the bullying he’s had to endure. His friends make him feel safe when his real world is full of fear, but no one can protect his heart when an awkward and messed up Jonah—one of the worst of his bullies—is suddenly around every corner, wanting to make things right.
Sorry can be a difficult word to believe, but trusting your heart is everything.
Dance on Ice #3
Summary:For the figure skater and the hockey player, their sport demands total devotion, but can falling in love come first?
My name is Shaun Stanton, and I’m bisexual.
In hockey-obsessed Chesterford Academy, Shaun Stanton stands out as the star player and captain of the Chesterford Coyotes, and his exceptional skills have already attracted the attention of NHL scouts. He lives and breathes hockey, but there’s more to his story. His father wants Shaun to be the star he never was, and their relationship is a complex mix of guidance and intimidation. Worse, while hockey is Shaun’s sanctuary and a key part of who he is, he harbors a secret his dad can never discover: Shaun is gay He’s caught between the future career he’s destined for, and the truth he has to hide. There’s one bright light in his life, the vibrant figure skater who shares the early morning practice ice, a friend he worries about, but has now become something more—Kenji is everything Shaun wants and can’t have.
My name is Kenji Kelly, and I need to be perfect.
Kenji Kelly is a young man who walks two worlds: his family is a beautiful mix of American and Asian cultures. He loves both figure skating and hockey, and he’s a out and proud pansexual teen. While it seems to the world around him he has it all, deep down Kenji has a secret that’s slowly becoming harder to conceal. His life is the ice and his coach does not believe in failure. The one person who knows his hidden secret is Shaun, the captain of the Coyotes and a friend from youth hockey days. Shaun’s gaze towards Kenji, once filled with concern, now seems to hold something deeper, unsettling Kenji but also igniting similar giddy, burgeoning feelings in him. As their feelings for each other become stronger, the secrets both young men carry grow heavier and more distressing with each passing day.
NB: Trigger warning for mention of an eating disorder.
Off the Ice #1
Original Review July 2023:
There are 2 types of a**hole characters in fiction:
1. The truly evil bad guy that you are left salivating over the idea of their hopefully very painful demise.
2. The good guy with a very weighty chip on their shoulder that you know will soften and grow but still want to smack with an iron skillet to the back of the head at times.
Felix falls under #2. Oh how I wanted to knock some sense into him on many occasions BUT I also knew he had to get there on his own to fully grow. Authors can't help him, it's his journey and knowingly or cluelessly, he controls the timeline😉. There were enough hints throughout his inner monologues that made me empathize with him but in no way excused his actions. Soren on the other hand is all kinds of adorableness. Having read Perfect Gifts in the authors' Harrisburg Railers series, I was aware of Soren's background and how he and his brother, Milo, came to be in the Madsen-Rowe household. So I watched a very similar but not equal chip disappear from the teenager's shoulder previously. There will always be hints of said chip there considering his journey to Ten & Jared's door but he understands it and has learned to cope, making him older than his years yet still very much a teenager.
Put these two lads together and the chemistry is undeniable but it's not easy. It's Scott and Locey so you know the HEA is a foregone conclusion but the journey getting there is where the fun is. I'll admit there are times when you doubt wanting Felix to find that HEA but then he does or says something that surprises you, course then there is the one thing(and no I'm not telling what that is) that breaks your heart instantly because it appears to show a backward slide in his growth. Sometimes one needs to be shattered to finally find perspective and that's what happens to Felix and things slowly but realistically change. I know that sounds very vague but I don't want to spoil anything, just because we know it'll end in HEA doesn't mean we know what they win and lose to get there.
Now I mentioned Railers entry, Perfect Gifts above being where we are introduced to Soren and Milo and though I highly recommend reading, at the very least the Ten/Jared entries in that series first, it's not a must. You won't be lost if you start with Off the Ice. It's just a personal need to read character growth in progression so that my heart can fully connect to said characters, but that's just me.
Truth is, with a few exceptions(Little House and Anne of Green Gables books that I shared with my grandmother) I haven't read too many young adult stories since I was 12 or 13. At that time I read Judy Blume's Forever after which I went straight from Blume to Sidney Sheldon, Danielle Steel, LaVyrle Spencer, and a few Jackie Collins. . . in terms of reading lets just say I grew up very quickly. I mention this because I can't honestly compare Off the Ice to other YA stories in the LGBTQ genre in regards to handling pure adolescent narratives. What I can compare it to is the beauty in which Scott & Locey have written the characters' natural, realistic, and completely relatable growth that makes a good story great.
Honestly? I think the fact that I don't seek out YA genre and still loved every word of Off the Ice speaks more volume to the amazingness of the story than anything else I could put in to words so maybe I'll just end my review with that sentiment.
On Thin Ice #2
Original Review October 2023:
I've been wracking my brain(and yes I know I could just look it up on my kindle but why go the easy route?😉) to recall if the authors let us know that book 2 would be Tyler and Jonah's journey but I remember being certain it would be when I read Off the Ice. I was not disappointed because the only thing keeping Tyler & Jonah from replacing Soren & Felix as my favorite pair is that S&F came first and in a multi-couple series, the first is always my favorite.
Unlike Felix, Jonah did not have a dysfunctional homelife that lead him down the path of bullying, for him it came down to peer pressure, following the pack, not quite having the courage to say "enough!". It may not make his behavior in book 1 acceptable but it does show that the ability to change is present. There were signs of his heart in his scenes in book one so watching just where his heart and thoughts are in book 2 is absolutely lovely. The scenes with his little sisters says it all, they may only be a few but for me how a brother treats his little siblings can go a long way to setting a characters' worth.
Tyler has not had it easy at home or at school thanks to the likes of Miles and one time followers, Felix and Jonah. But now that Felix has found the courage to walk away thanks to Soren and Jonah is trying to follow Felix's path, school should be easier but Miles is still around and seeing as Miles(and many in the school) believe it was Tyler who turned the bully in will it really be better? For that answer you have to read for yourself. As I stated, Tyler's homelife hasn't been the best either but breaking free of his dad's hold in their life gave both Tyler and his mom a chance at building a better future, but that doesn't mean they can just flip a switch and it's all hunky dory, it takes time but Tyler is definitely a determined youth.
Together the boys find a new way forward, though it's neither easy nor instant but perhaps that is what makes it worth fighting for all that much more sweeter. I just want to wrap them both in tight Mama Bear hugs until everything is perfect but life is about learning and growing, we readers can only do so much in the wanting to protect department. On Thin Ice is a very lovely and honest journey of growth and happiness which can make it sound and seem very adult at times. They do have to grow up sooner than most but they still are teenagers at heart, Scott & Locey do a brilliant job of balancing their youthful friendship and eventual romance with the angst that forces them to face that adulting a little sooner than many of their classmates.
As I started with not remembering if the authors' clued us into who would be at the heart of book 2 at the final page of book 1, I can say here in On the Ice we briefly met Shaun and Kenji who we know will have their story told Spring of 2024 and I can't wait. I may not read much in the young adult genre, with a few exceptions(Anne of Green Gables comes to mind) I probably have only read a handful since I myself was a young adult(as I turned to the likes of Sidney Sheldon, Danielle Steel, and Jackie Collins by the time I was 15) so I hate to make comparisons to other YA stories, especially in the LGBT area. Perhaps I'm a little biased for 2 of my favorite authors, RJ Scott & VL Locey, but I think they do an amazing job delving into the youthful storytelling in Chesterford Coyotes and of course it's definitely worthy of the Scott & Locey Hockey Universe moniker. A true delight from beginning to end.
Dance on Ice #3
Original Review April 2024:
I said with the other two entries in Chestorford Coyotes and I'll say it again here: with a few exceptions I generally haven't read YA since I was about 14 years old but as this series is part of the Scott/Locey Hockey Universe there was no way I wouldn't give it a go. And boy was I glad I did!
Dance on Ice is an emotionally charged read that will first break the heart but then repair and warm it too. You can't help but feel immense anger towards both Shaun's dad and Kenji's coach, Ilya. Will either be redeemable? For that you'll have to read Dance for yourself but I will say emotions run very high and not always very favorably.
Watching both Shaun and Kenji become the people they are meant to be is hugely gratifying. The bulk of the story is the now timeframe but through the boys' inner thoughts we get a sense of who they were before their friendship went down the crapper so seeing them move past that is as I said, gratifying but also extremely heartwarming.
Scott and Locey do a magnificent job telling Kenji's eating disorder and how it is always there, no matter how you get a hold on it with therapy and time, it will always be lingering, needing to be cared for. What I really loved was they not only tell Kenji's side but also the side of those who care about them, who want to help, who tend to put their foot in their mouth more times than they intend in their quest to help.
It was nice to see Trent from Deep Edge, book 3 in the authors' Harrisburg Railers, the original series that jumpstarted their hockey universe. I had a feeling he would make an appearance with the figure skating connection and the authors didn't disappoint.
Dance on Ice is a lovely story of hurt, comfort, friendship, young love, but above all healing on multiple levels. As far as I know, Dance is the last entry in this series but I for one would love to see a holiday story to see where our young couples are 5 or 10 years down the road. Dance may take you through an emotional wringer but in all the heart-filled amazing ways.
Off the Ice #1
Just as I was thinking of Felix’s face meeting a fist, he shot to his feet, gave Tyler a shove, and jumped on the smaller guy when Tyler fell off the bench to the floor. I reacted instantly, and was into the fray in a second, rolling Felix off Tyler with a body check that would have cleared any of the Railers off their skates. Not really, but it sounded boss. Tyler was smaller than most, a speed demon on ice, but we protected him—I protected him.
“Get the fuck off me!” Felix snarled, swinging at me as we grappled for control. He was strong, about my height and weight, but I had the advantage. Or I thought I did. He swung back in a flash, clocking me in the mouth. My front teeth dug into my lower lip, and I tasted blood, which kind of pissed me off. We wrestled around amid shouts from our teammates until I managed to get him under control. Mostly.
He was splayed out on the floor, his face pressed into a pair of wet sneakers lying in front of a locker. I put my knee into his back while the other guys scrambled to get Tyler on his feet.
“What the hell, Sinclair?” I barked down at Felix. We never used our full last names, not since he’d decided that having gay days meant I didn’t deserve to inherit both last names. Whatever. He hated that I responded in kind and that was just one more point against the freaking idiot.
“Get off my back, Rowe!” he snarled, adding something else to the comment, which was hard to make out since his face was jammed into a skanky, soggy grey and black Nike belonging to one of the guys who had run here across the sodden field hockey field. Caleb had kicked them off to wring out his socks but had yet to dress his smelly feet yet. Caleb liked to hear us complain about his foot stink for some reason. Dude was weird.
It sounded like Felix might have used a queer slur, but I couldn’t be sure it was the F-word although I’d heard him use it before. He’d should think twice about using that in front of me. My new family was all kinds of queer, as was I and a few other players. Coach also did not put up with any racist, sexist, or queer slurs. I’d already hit him once, way back, when he started shit about my dads, but that had ended up with me in an office with my new dads and wondering if they were going to send me back in the system.
Of course they hadn’t—they loved me and Milo and wanted us as their sons, along side their daughter. We were family and it was all official and everything. Still the thought that I’d disappoint my dads meant I genuinely tried not to rise to Felix and hit him again.
But he’d jumped Tyler, and that wasn’t right.
On Thin Ice #2
Chapter One
Jonah
I was kind of doomed.
Actually, I was totally doomed. Like Dr. Doom was dropping all the doom he possessed—which was a lot—onto my head, and while it sucked, it was kind of expected. Still, I hated sitting at the kitchen table being chewed out by my folks as my siblings snickered in the living room.
“… cannot believe that you’ve been bullying people, Jonah. I know your mother and I raised you better. Look at me, Jonah. I want to make sure you’re soaking in what I’m saying to you.”
I raised my eyes from the bracelets on my wrist. My father’s gaze met mine across the kitchen table, and what I saw in those dark brown eyes made me feel even shittier. He was not proud of me at all, neither was Mom, who was chewing on her lower lip, her light blue eyes worried and damp. I’d made her cry. Talk about feeling like something scraped out of my baby sister’s diaper.
“I know it was wrong,” I mumbled as I fingered the slim rubber bracelet with the bi colors on it. I’d slid it on just this afternoon, after seeing Tyler and his friends from the Gay Student Alliance working on decorations for the Halloween dance. A dance I was supposed to cover for the Chesterford Chronicle, the student paper, but that I wasn’t allowed to go to because the principal had called my parents in for a conference. Seemed someone had dropped an anonymous note into the suggestion box outside the administration office saying that Jonah Robinson and Miles Brooks were using racial and homophobic slurs against other students. That had been the start of a really, awful, super-sized, monstrously bad day. And by the looks on my parents’ faces, this terrible day was going to stretch into a craptastic week or month. Hell, maybe a year. I’d probably not see the outside world apart from school until I was sixteen.
I deserved it all though.
“Jonah, if you knew it was wrong why did you do it?” Mom asked, pushing a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear.
I wanted to explain that I’d overheard Mom and Dad talking about her job with Felix’s family’s company, about how losing her job would be a major hit to the family budget, how it worried them, how they wished they had something real they could hold onto.
I wanted to tell them the horrors of being bullied at my old school—that it didn’t matter what school I was at, I never fitted.
I wanted to explain that this was why I’d hung onto Felix, and by extension Miles, just to keep myself protected, to keep my mom’s job safe. Felix would go to bat for my mother if he and I were friends.
To try to fix everything wrong in my head.
All I could do was hang my head in shame.
“Peer pressure,” Dad snapped, pushing to his feet to get another cup of coffee. It was his third in the past hour. He’d given up smoking two years ago and had substituted coffee for the nicotine. Mom had been giving him decaf for the past six months, unbeknownst to him. “Why stay friends with Felix and Miles? You had to know that no good would come of it.”
I winced because it was all on me. I’d chosen to hang around them; it was me who’d put myself in that position.
Dad continued, this time with way more anger. “That damn Brooks family is a seething den of bigots. Remember the first time we went to the Chesterford Spring Carnival?”
“I remember,” Mom whispered, her jaw tightening.
“Greg Brooks walks up to me, big as you please, and asks me if I had permission to be on the school grounds.” Dad thunked his Carlisle Parks & Recreation mug on the counter next to the Keurig. “Does that man think that only White people are allowed to be on the Chesterford campus?” he asked the coffeemaker as he pawed in the big plastic container for the right pod. They were all the same, all green covers, but he dug around anyway, muttering to himself until he found the one that he wanted. The lone, red-covered pod amongst all the green. “Ha! Found one. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with the coffee, Emma.”
Mom gave me a wobbly smile as Dad went off about the Brooks clan. “I know that there aren’t many people of color on that campus, but to come right up to me and ask… why is this damn pot not making coffee?”
“Something probably plugged the needles. Let me fix it, just sit down, and talk to Jonah.” Mom gave my arm a pat, then rose to poke at the coffee pot needles with a paperclip. Dad sighed and flopped down across from me, then gave me one of those long, sad looks of his.
“I’m so disappointed in you, Jonah. I know it’s been hard to adjust to the new school. And I know we don’t have all the cash falling out of our—”
“Terrence, language,” Mom chided Dad. My younger siblings—three girls ranging from ten down to two—giggled out in the living room.
“Out of our pockets,” Dad hurried to amend while the opening strains of The Princess and the Frog flowed into the kitchen. “I know it’s been tough; I truly do. But you earned that scholarship in fine arts. You’re an amazing photographer. Someday, you’ll be out there snapping pictures for National Geographic or the New York Times.”
Yeah, that was the dream. If only I could fix the broken parts of me.
“I know it was wrong,” I said, again, and shame choked my words.
“Then why the hell did you do it? Why would you hang around people who are bigots? Make us understand, Jonah. Make me see why a biracial young man would pal around with two hateful people like Felix Sinclair and Miles Brooks.”
He sat back, arms folded over his wrinkled dress shirt. His tie was probably being worn by one of his daughters as a headband. Dad and Mom had been called into the principal’s office after lunch, pulling them away from his job as the director of Parks and Recreation for Carlisle Borough and her new job taking orders at the local fast food drive-thru window, which was what she has been doing since losing her job at Sinclair Industries’ main office. Both had been furious during that meeting. Furious, shocked, and ashamed.
“Felix has changed,” I blurted out. Dad rolled his eyes. Mom made a sound as she poked violently at some plastic bit from inside the coffeemaker. “He has, honestly.”
“Actions speak louder than words, Jonah. It’s easy to say you’ve changed,” Mom said, her jabbing of the plastic bit getting violent. Better the coffee basket than me. Mom was generally pretty chill, but when her only son acted like an asshole and she lost half a day’s pay, she got crabby.
“No, Felix really has changed. He’s dating Soren Rowe now, openly, and they seem really happy. Only, he kind of isn’t really talking to me and Miles anymore.” My sight went back to my wrist, the band of rubber in soft shades of pink, purple, and royal blue feeling right on my skin. I’d never actually thought of myself as bisexual, not really, until I started on the school paper at Chesterford and had an epiphany. As the lone photographer on the Chronicle staff, I covered… well, everything on campus, and lots of off-campus as well. Sports included. Which was cool because I liked sports a lot. I played tennis and basketball, not on a team, but with kids in the neighborhood or my dad. It wasn’t until I got to watch the Chesterford ice hockey team that I’d gotten into the sport. And then had the big bi wake-up call.
“That’s good to hear. Soren and his fathers are good people.” Mom finally got the coffeemaker flowing, the gurgles and hisses making Dad unclench. Soon they both had mugs in hand and were staring at me once more, waiting for me to say something brilliant. “I don’t think you should associate with Miles anymore,” Mom added, then took a sip of her coffee.
“Shouldn’t have been hanging around him to begin with,” Dad grumbled into his cup, sipping tentatively as Mom’s head bobbed. “We know you’re close to sixteen and feel the need to have your friends as you see fit, but—”
“No, no, I don’t want to hang out with Miles anymore. I was never friends with him, but after Felix went off with Soren, he expected me to… no… I won’t do it. He’s just wrong, and I won’t…” I couldn’t think of what else to say. There wasn’t any good in Miles, he wouldn’t have a redemption arc in my life story.
Mom glanced at Dad. “That’s good to hear. It’s easy to get sucked into toxic relationships when you’re new to a social group. But it’s been two years now, and you should be able to mix into a wide range of friendship groups. You’re smart, handsome, artistic, athletic, and funny.”
“Takes after his father,” Dad chimed in, his anger seeming to slowly be leaching away.
“That he does,” Mom said, leaning over to peck Dad on his neatly trimmed, bearded cheek. “I hope you can figure out where you fit in, honey.”
“Yeah, me too,” I murmured, plucking at the bracelet I’d thieved out of a box the GSA had stashed inside the front doors. They were planning on handing them out to students as they entered the dance. “So can I go to the dance on Friday?”
“You’re grounded.” Dad gave me a look over his coffee cup.
“But it’s for school,” I wheedled, then glanced at my mother, only she wasn’t backing down.
“Sorry, Jonah, but Mr. Wheeler will have to take the pictures for the dance. Being called into the principal’s office is not a minor offense, nor is bullying people. Now, go to your room and do your homework. Your father and I will decide on how long your punishment will be.”
I wanted to argue, but deep down I knew whatever they gave me would be justified. I’d been a fuck toad to some people who honestly didn’t deserve it. I got to my feet in silence and pushed in my chair, my eyes on the tips of my sneakers.
“And, son, we expect you to apologize to everyone you hurt,” Dad said, his words pulling my sight from my Converse. “I don’t care if Felix or Miles do it or not, your mother and I raised you to be kind to people, and if you hurt someone, you say you’re sorry. Isn’t that right, girls?”
“That’s right, Daddy!” Lana, Gemma, and Polly all yelled back in unison. Mom beamed, then frowned when the sound of shouting was followed by crying, then a feeble “Sorry” from Gemma. Mom pushed to her feet and exited the kitchen.
Dad gave me a firm look. “I mean it, Jonah. You make amends to the kids you hurt.”
“I will,” I whispered, rubbing my new bracelet.
I rushed my father, hugged him hard, then bolted out of the kitchen, through the living room to the stairs. Those I climbed two at a time, my vision blurry from unshed tears I did not want anyone to see. I burst through the door to my room, closed it, locked it, and then, stood in the center of my space as the tears ran down my cheeks. I dashed them away, unsure why I was even crying. The past couple of years had been hard.
So hard.
Being pulled from public school and dropped into a private school in my freshman year had been exciting. For about two days. Then, the differences between my middle-class family and most of the other families of the students at Chesterford had really started to show.
I could count on two hands the number of students at Chesterford who were BIPOC. There was one other Black guy on campus, Reggie Dunleavy, who played football and was the son of two plastic surgeons. A couple of Asian kids attended, and one Latina girl who was graduating this year, the daughter of Hector Manuel Rivera, the assistant mayor of Harrisburg and his wife, Elena, a corporate lawyer. Then there was me. Jonah Robinson, son of hard-working people with more love than ready cash, admitted to a scholarship program that opened the doors of private schools to the less fortunate. Of course, the wording on the application had been different, but that was the gist.
I toed off my shoes, fell across my bed, rolled to my back to stare at the poster of Johny Pitts, one of my idols. Johny was a biracial photographer and had made a name for himself in the UK doing a photo journey with poet Roger Robinson. They’d driven across the country asking What Is Black Britain? and the images and words from that trip were stunning. Someday, I hoped to be able to do something as meaningful as that for the world. Mom assured me I would, but it seemed so far away right now. I’d gotten off light at school, pulling three days detention for an admitted verbal battle Miles had gotten into while I’d hung back like a coward. I should have stood up for the kid Miles was calling a weak little sissy before giving the freshman a shoulder slam as he strolled away. I said nothing to Miles, but I did apologize to the kid before heading the opposite direction from Miles. I’d heard Miles shouting my name, but I had kept walking, and I planned to keep walking away from that kind of shit. Whether I found my crew or not. I just hoped I did find them soon. It was lonely being different…
I stared up at Johny as the sounds of my sister’s singing along to “Almost There” filtered up the stairs. When Dad’s voice joined the singalong, I had to tune out. Dad could not sing, like at all, but he sure thought he was the next coming of Snoop. Which he was not.
I found a playlist that I liked, pulling up something from one of my fave hip-hop/punk bands. While the family was jamming to Disney, I was listening to a trio of POC musicians singing about burning down the system, wondering if being biracial and bisexual was one too many bis for one dude to tote around.
I’d been drifting off when a soft knocking at my door pulled me from the hazy ether of in-between wakefulness and sleep.
“Jo-bah,” Polly whispered under the crack of my door. “Jo-bah, lemme in peas.”
There was nothing I could do, but let her in. There were times when my baby sisters got on my nerves, but overall, I loved them more than mostly anything on the planet. Aside from my parents, and our cat Linus. Oh, and my Kodak digital camera, purchased outright by me after working all summer at Betty Lo’s Creamery selling ice cream cones and milkshakes. Mom and Dad had been so proud of me for earning that money. Now, they thought I was a slug.
I am a slug. I’m lower than that. I’m just the same as the kids who’d picked on me at my old school.
I’m worse because I should have known better.
“Jo-bah, peas,” my baby sister called, and so, being a dopey, smitten big brother, I left my bed and unlocked the door for her.
She gazed up at me, a drawing in her chubby hand, big brown eyes set in her tan, round face, her hair a wild mass of light brown curls no comb or brush could ever tame. All the girls had tight curls, same as me, I just kept mine buzzed because who has the time? Besides, I got cool designs in the clipped sides like lightning bolts, half-moons, spiderwebs, and stars.
“Jo-bah sad?” she asked as she handed the drawing up to me. “You crying?”
“No, I’m not crying, but I am kind of sad,” I replied, examining the drawing. It was a brown circle with two black ovals that were maybe my eyes. Blue lines ran out of the black ovals, so possibly, those were tears? “Did you make this?”
“Uh-huh,” she answered, skirting around me to dash into my room, then climb onto my bed. She flopped to her back—Little Mermaid nightgown twisted around her middle, her chunky thighs and calves exposed—and grabbed her toes. “I see Johny.”
“Yeah, he’s still there.” I sat down beside her as she tried to stick her big toe into her nose. “Don’t do that,” I said, and she quit. For now. “Thanks for the drawing.”
“You well-comb. Why you sad?”
I fell back on the bed to lie beside her. She giggled and cuddled in close to my side. The girl was a major cuddle-bug. I’d lost count how many times she’d left her toddler bed to come into my room to sleep with me—at least twice a week, if not more. I didn’t mind. My bed was more than big enough for one teenager and one toddler.
“I did something bad,” I told her, figuring that was enough for her.
“Oh, Jo-bah, why did you do bad things?” she asked as she rooted under my arm. I lifted it, and she snuggled into my side.
“I don’t know. Why do you do bad things?” I asked, then glanced at her. She’d popped her thumb into her mouth, a sure sign she was tired. She shrugged. “Yeah, same here. But I won’t do those bad things anymore.”
Her tiny hand, the one with the free thumb, came up to pat my face. “Jo-bah good boy forever now,” she said—or I think that was what she said—around her thumb before her long lashes fell to rest on her pudgy cheeks. As she slept peacefully at my side, I pulled a notebook out of my backpack and opened it to a new page.
I had a list to make of the people I’d hurt.
And at the top of that list was Tyler Corrigan.
Yeah, I was doomed as doomed could be.
Dance on Ice #3
There was a heated exchange of words, Kenji skating backward and away, almost at center ice. All I needed to do was to push forward on one skate, and glide there, and we could say hello. We’d been best friends once, and if I apologized—if I was honest with him about how I’d messed up—maybe we could go back to being friends. As the argument escalated between my dad and Kenji’s coach, I felt a knot form in my stomach and I was paralyzed by my own insecurities. I watched Kenji and cursed myself for not having the courage to reach out to him.
Dad was becoming more animated, Kenji’s coach just as loud, gesticulating wildly.
I didn’t have the balls to skate to the center ice.
And Kenji didn’t turn to look at me.
Dad returned, as scarlet as me, but where my reaction was shame and confusion, his was temper and hatred.
“You’re sharing the ice,” he snapped.
He was so angry, and I didn’t know how to feel. He’d sacrificed everything for me; worked three jobs to keep me in hockey gear, drove me to every practice and game, and even volunteered as a coach for the team. The thought of letting him down filled me with guilt.
I owed him.
He’d poured his heart and soul into my hockey career, and it all centered on us practicing six days out of seven on this ice, and today we didn’t have the ice.
I should feel territorial, right? It was what Dad wanted me to feel, I was sure. Instead I felt… weird. Then something hit me. Why was I sharing the ice that was for the school? I was somewhere for the Academy teams to practice and play, and it wasn’t open to the public, courtesy of a shit ton of funding from very rich benefactors at our very wealthy campus. Why was someone from outside Chesterford Academy on our ice?
“They’ll let anyone join this damn school, freaking twirly shit getting in our way. Fucking girls out here on our ice.”
“He’s—”
“No!”
I wanted to defend Kenji, to explain that figure skaters were as valid as hockey players, same as I’d done when Kenji had left hockey for the figure skating and begged to be allowed to be friends with him still. But my dad’s hatred had spilled over and scared me.
“Shut your mouth and listen up,” Dad snapped. His reaction stung, his threats left me feeling powerless and defeated, and small.
So small.
“Figure skaters are boys as well,” I word-vomited, thankful the boards were between me and him when Dad stiffened and sent me a stare that would kill other people. Dad had never touched me, apart from fixing my hockey hold, or straightening my back, but his expression was murderous, and that meant the curses would fly and he’d take out his impotent rage on me with words. He leaned over the barrier, and my heart skipped, my chest tightened. I held my position and tilted my chin as he lowered his voice, hate dripping from every word.
RJ ScottWriting 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.
Off the Ice #1
On Thin Ice #2
Dance on Ice #3
Harrisburg Railers Series
Owatonna U Series
Arizona Raptors Series
Boston Rebels Series
Sparkle #1.5(LA Storm)
Railers Legacy Series
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