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After 30+ years as my mother's 24/7 caregiver she passed away this past January and since then I have become my dad's primary caregiver so November being National Family Caregivers Month has always been important to me. Not because I want personal recognition for what I do but to help show people that caregiving is more than just medical assistance, it can also be emotional, physical, psychological, that it effects every aspects of a person's life, it can be temporary, short term, long term, chronic,. I would have given anything to make it so my mother had not needed the assistance and now my dad but that isn't possible so I do this so he can have the best quality of life and still live in his own home. So I realized that there are stories out there that have caregivers and whether it's a big or small part of the plot doesn't matter, they help show people what caregivers provide all within very entertaining romances and reading experiences.
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Always You by RJ Scott
Summary:Guardian Hall #1
In the frostbitten heart of Chicago, a scarred and solitary soldier finds a second chance at love with the man who broke his heart.
Twenty years at war have left Sergeant Jasper "Jazz" Brookes battered, scarred, and haunted. His marriage is wrecked, his daughter barely speaks to him, and the world he fought for has moved on without him. Homeless by choice, Jazz manages until the brutal Chicago winter forces him to seek help from a shelter he doesn’t want to need.
The weathered building in Humboldt Park offers veterans a place to rebuild, but Jazz doesn’t expect to find Alex Richardson there—his first love, the boy who chose money over him, the one he left behind. Seeing Alex again cracks open old wounds and stirs feelings Jazz buried long ago.
For Alex, the sight of Jazz reminds him of everything he’s tried to forget. But neither man has moved on. As they grapple with their past and confront the scars they’ve carried for years, they’re forced to decide if the connection between them is strong enough to survive the pain.
This time, it’s all or nothing.
Original Review February 2025:
A new book AND a new series from RJ Scott? Yes, please. Always You, the first entry in the author's new series, Guardian Hall is amazing. I won't say it has a dark element but it definitely has heartwrenching and heartbreaking elements on multiple points. I won't list the points so as not spoil anything but just know this story, these characters will definitely squeeze you through the emotional wringer.
Alex Richardson made a bad choice long ago thinking he'd have a chance to explain it or perhaps manage it the way he planned, needless to say things did not go as the young man planned. Jazz Brookes was left aching after Alex's choice but tried to make the best life possible, unfortunately things also did not go as he planned. Both men had hit their own rock bottom, we learn and see more of Jazz's collapsed state but we learn some of Alex's as well through conversation and internal monologue. Now some might like to have seen more of Alex's but personally I like a little off-page storytelling because there comes a point where it's just too much. Subtlety and readers imagination can be extremely powerful.
When dealing with PTSD in fiction I find there is too often two ways an author goes: short & brief to minimize the angst or highly detailed heavy on medical wordage so you feel like you're studying a medical school book. I'm all for reality in fiction when it comes to health but sometimes less can truly be more but not at all can disconnect a reader from the characters, so balance is key. RJ Scott has found that balance in Always You. As I said above, both characters are dealing with hurt and healing but Jazz is the primary focus on the healing front IMO and we see the hurt, the comfort, and the fallout/side effects but they don't overpower the story and the romance.
To put it bluntly and paraphrase Goldilocks: RJ Scott got it "just right" with Always You. You'll smile, you'll cry, you'll laugh, basically you'll be "ooohing" and "awwwing" all over the place.
Summary:
Out of Uniform #2
Lieutenant Apollo Floros can ace tactical training missions, but being a single dad to his twin daughters is more than he can handle. He needs live-in help, and he's lucky a friend's younger brother needs a place to stay. He's surprised to see Dylan all grown up with a college degree…and a college athlete's body. Apollo's widowed heart may still be broken, but Dylan has his blood heating up.
It's been eight years since the teenage Dylan followed Apollo around like a lovesick puppy, and it's time he showed Lieutenant Hard-to-Please that he's all man now—an adult who's fully capable of choosing responsibility over lust. He can handle Apollo's muscular sex appeal, but Apollo the caring father? Dylan can't afford to fall for that guy. He's determined to hold out for someone who's able to love him back, not someone who only sees him as a kid brother.
Apollo is shocked by the intensity of his attraction to Dylan. Maybe some no-strings summer fun will bring this former SEAL back to life. But the combination of scorching desire and warm affection is more than he'd expected, and the emotion between them scares him senseless. No fling lasts forever, and Apollo will need to decide what's more important—his past or his future—if he wants to keep Dylan in his life.
Always You by RJ Scott
Chapter One
JAZZ
Standing across the street, I held the coffee cup close, its warmth providing a brief reprieve from the biting Chicago wind. The old building in Humboldt Park loomed ahead— a weary, weathered structure. Its brickwork was faded and chipped, with windows gleaming on the first floor, but above that, grimy and dark, the windowsills and surrounds needed repairs everywhere. Around the house, the neighborhood stretched out in a patchwork of neglect and survival. Graffiti-covered walls displayed various tags, while trash blew and collected on the snowy sidewalks.
Someone bumped into me, jolting me from my reverie. “Sorry,” I muttered, but the girl glanced back, her nose wrinkling in disdain, before she hurried away, disappearing into the flurry of thickening snow that swirled around streetlamps and piled up in dirty mounds. She might’ve been reacting to the way I looked— homeless, piles of rags, unwanted, and scary. Or maybe the way I smelled— given I hadn’t washed in days— not since leaving the hospital where the cops had dropped me off. My appearance must have been unsettling— hands cracked from the cold, hair unkempt, clothes a mismatched ensemble from some thrift shop clinging to my skinny body, a backpack with all I owned slung over my shoulder. She and other people— the ordinary people of this world— were why I didn’t stay inside the café. I knew no one would want to sit next to me, so I used loose change, ignored the comments, and hurried outside to take my position as a ghost, haunting the fringes of a world that had moved on without me.
Cars inched along the road, their tires crunching over the fresh layer of snow, and I watched them and their drivers, so worried they’d slip and knock their vehicles as if a few scratches mattered. What were they all doing out here, anyway? Didn’t they all have homes to go to, with people who cared about them?
I sipped the dark coffee, its bitterness awful compared to the sugar-laden or salty drinks I’d grown used to in the desert. That arid, endless expanse of sand and heat felt a world away. Here, the air was heavy with the smell of cold— that crisp, almost metallic scent that comes with snow. It mingled with distant whiffs of exhaust fumes and an urban winter's faint, underlying decay.
The desert was silent and had vast open spaces until it was torn apart by explosions and drenched in screams, but here, the city was a constant hum of life, even in its most rundown corners. The sound of distant traffic, the muffled conversations of passersby, the occasional siren in the distance— it was all so alien and tight and close— too much.
I took another sip— my hand shaking, the coffee scalding my tongue— and stared at the building that was supposed to be my refuge. Fear gripped me— not just of the four walls waiting to enclose me, but of what lay beyond them.
I wanted to return to the heat, friends, and having a reason and purpose every day. So, I should head south to Texas, the tip of Florida, the islands, or the ocean. It may not be the desert, but the heat in my bones would be enough to thaw me out, right?
But then, I wouldn’t be near Harper, and whatever my ex-wife, Ava, thought of me now, I deserved to be near my daughter. If only to check in on her from a distance.
She was in Chicago, living her normal teenage life.
I was in Chicago, trying to stay alive any way I knew how.
And maybe one day, I’d talk to her.
One day, when my head wasn’t so messed up and I didn’t smell like five-day-old garbage.
I drew in a lungful of icy air and stepped off the curb, intent on closing the distance between me and the building as the world seemed to slow down. A silver Toyota lost its battle with the slick, snow-covered street, fishtailing wildly. It skidded past me, missing me by mere inches. My heart didn’t race. No adrenaline-fueled shock coursed through me. Instead, there was an eerie calm, a detachment, and I heard music blaring although the car windows were closed. The driver, face twisted in frustration, shot me an angry gesture before steering the car back on track and disappearing around the next corner.
I stood on the road, the cold seeping through my worn shoes, watching the taillights fade into the distance. The lack of fear, the absence of reaction, was unsettling. Once, a moment like that would have sparked a surge of adrenaline, a rush of instincts perfected in far more dangerous situations. But now, there was nothing— just a hollow emptiness, a numbness that had become a constant companion since returning stateside.
“Hey, you’re in the middle of the road, man. You okay?” someone asked, snapping me out of the fugue state I had going on.
I waved a hand as if I were telling him it was okay, then, with one glance left and right, I crossed to the sidewalk and ended up outside the door of Guardian Hall, Private Residence. There was a discreet plate with a button to push, and I stared at it.
Guardian Hall?
I needed to press the buzzer.
I reached for it.
But I didn’t press it.
I couldn’t.
I stared some more, my feet unmoving, my backpack digging into my shoulders, the snow swirling harder around me.
Then, the door opened.
I couldn’t see into the shadows, and until the person stepped into the light, I wasn’t sure it would be him, but I recognized those dark eyes, that ruffled dark hair, and how he dressed was a throwback to twenty years ago. He looked older, wiser, maybe, but, like me he was only a few weeks from his thirty-eighth birthday, so he would never again be the boy I remembered. He was silent and watchful in the way he stared at me.
“Do you want to come in?” he said with a kind, understanding smile.
He didn’t sneer, wrinkle his nose, or judge me; instead, he invited me inside.
“Alex,” I murmured.
He grinned. “That’s me, for my sins.” Then, he held out a hand. “Alex Richardson, manager of Guardian Hall.”
“I know,” I said, and his smile faltered a little, and he seemed puzzled for a moment, probably imagining that I was familiar somehow.
“It’s okay to come in. We don’t ask for names or—”
“Jazz,” I blurted and coughed, remnants of the freaking viral shit that had landed me in the hospital.
He looked confused; then, his hand dropped, his eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. Was he still going to welcome me in after sending me away twenty years ago? Was this the moment he slammed the door in my face again after telling me I was nothing to him? After a moment’s pause, he reached for me, gripped my wet-through coat, and dragged me into the house, closing the door behind me, then setting me back so he could check me out.
He was lost for words.
And I didn’t have a single damn thing to say.
At Attention by Annabeth Albert
Chapter One
May
Hamburger. Onions. Pickles. Ketchup. Buns. Buns.
Well, hello, there. Possibly the most perfect specimen Apollo had ever seen was bent over in the bakery aisle at Sprouts, looking at a rack of organic cookies. High. Tight. Round. Attached to muscular legs poking out of board shorts, the kind of legs that suggested a serious investment in a sport or fitness. He wasn’t going to do more than look, but even when he’d been with Neal, he hadn’t been blind, and it was nice to know perfection like this guy existed in the world.
It was like swimming by a perfect coral reef on a dive or the blue of a cloudless sky right before a jump—
Wink. Fuck. The guy straightened before Apollo could look away and caught Apollo staring, and instead of blushing or serving him with the angry glare he deserved, he gave Apollo a saucy wink. It was the sort of wink that a decade ago would have had Apollo crossing the shiny linoleum and getting the guy’s number, but those days were long gone.
Instead he grabbed the closest twelve pack of hamburger buns and one of hot dog buns and headed to the next aisle. Those were the only kind of buns he had any business letting himself be distracted by. He was a father for crying out loud, not some single guy out treating the natural grocery store like his own personal pickup joint. Reflexively, he rubbed his ring with the side of his pinky, making it spin on his ring finger. Yeah. No more looking.
“Apollo! How are you?” Bridget from down the street almost ran her cart into his as he navigated the aisles. Her red-haired toddler waved at him from the basket.
Hell. He knew he should have brought at least one of the girls shopping. Then Bridget could have focused on the kids, and not his least favorite question in the universe.
“Hanging in there.” Apollo gave her a practiced a smile. “Good” would be a lie and no one wanted to hear “same as yesterday,” which was closer to the truth. But what the Bridgets of the world all wanted to hear was that Apollo was moving on—like time was the magic cure for the hole in his heart. “Having some people over for a barbecue later. Apologies if anyone parks in front of your place.”
“Oh, no worries.” Bridget patted his arm. “Having friends is so important.”
“Yeah, it is,” Apollo agreed because Bridget was a nice person, but inwardly his teeth gnashed together. He was so tired of well-meaning people telling him what was good for him when not a damn one of their suggestions would bring Neal back. “I better get on with my list.”
“You do that. And be sure and let us know if you need anything.”
Apollo nodded. Two years. It had been two years of neighbors and friends stopping him like this, making kind offers, but none of them able to do the one thing he wanted more than anything.
Fuck. Snap out of it, Lieutenant. No one wants your mopey ass around on this sunny May weekend. And it was an absolutely gorgeous day, perfect for playing with the girls outside and kicking back a few beers with his friends. He wasn’t on duty and had three consecutive days off for the first time in a long time. No sense dwelling on sad shit. Time to get stuff done.
Find something else to focus on.
Like that perfect ass?
No. Absolutely not that. Like...pickles. Lots and lots of pickles.
He saw Mr. Perfect Butt again in the juice aisle, and it was damn hard to keep his resolution to stick to shopping. The guy was model cute—curly hair falling just so over his forehead, sparkling eyes, chiseled jaw, and a tight T-shirt advertising a British soccer team showing off a defined chest and tight stomach. The guy smiled at him again and looked like he might want to speak, so Apollo grabbed the juice boxes for the girls and got out of there like he’d just launched a flash bang in the guy’s direction.
At the checkout, Mr. Perfect Butt was ahead of him in the only line that seemed to be moving. Apollo very carefully did not look at his butt again and busied himself grabbing some gum and trying to give off “don’t talk to me” vibes.
But those vibes seemed to be an utter failure as the guy turned, offering another movie-star-worthy grin. “You want to go first?” His voice was husky, like every word was a secret.
“I’m good,” Apollo said.
The man nodded, shy smile teasing the edges of his mouth, making his blue eyes dance. “You know—”
“ID please.” The cashier interrupted whatever flirtation the guy had planned as his six pack of beer went across the scanner.
“Oh, yeah.” A faint red flush spread up the guy’s neck. Oh hell. He wasn’t just younger than Apollo. He was a kid. A kid who still got carded, and rightfully so with that baby face. What the hell had Apollo been thinking, admiring his body?
Apollo focused on unloading his own groceries, making neat rows for the cashier, and making sure the buns wouldn’t get squished.
Buns. Nope. Not going there. The kid hung around after paying for his groceries, mouth moving as if he were debating speaking, but Apollo kept his attention squarely on the cashier.
No more looking. Remember who—what—you are now. When he finally looked up, perfect butt guy was gone, and if Apollo felt a twinge of regret for being a bit on the rude side, he squashed it quickly. Wasn’t like he’d ever see the guy again anyway.
* * *
“No way.” Apollo turned away from the grill to face his best friend who looked sane despite the crazy-making words that had just come out of his mouth. “No way is your little brother staying here for the summer. Last thing I need is another kid around here.” He gestured at the kid toys scattered all about the small patio.
“He’s not exactly a kid anymore.” Not dropping the topic, Dustin lowered himself into the chair closest to the grill. Even off duty in sunglasses and cargo shorts, Dustin carried himself like the SEAL lieutenant he was, and his massive muscular frame made the chair groan. He kicked idly at a ball in front of the chair.
“He’s what—eighteen now? That’s still a kid.”
“Wrong. He’s twenty-three. Just graduated from U of O. With honors.” Dustin’s voice was filled with big brother pride. Like Apollo, he might have more than a decade on Dylan, but that had never stopped Dustin from doting on the youngest of his siblings.
“Twenty-three?” Apollo scrubbed at his jaw. “It seems like just yesterday he was fifteen—”
“And following us around with that puppy crush on you. I remember.” Dustin laughed. “But trust me. He’s over that. I mean I’m pretty sure he wept when you got married, but he hasn’t asked me about you in years. Not like he used to.”
This was hardly reassuring. Apollo remembered all too well the gangly teen with bad skin and crazy hair who had trailed after them the week that he and Dustin had visited Dustin’s hometown of Eugene, Oregon. Nice kid, a little too serious what with his probing questions and all, but he’d also been a surprisingly good listener for fifteen.
“Is it true? Dustin said...you’re...like me?” Dylan looked up from the board game he was setting up, his shy eyes considering Apollo carefully. Man, this kid was something else. Apollo sure wouldn’t have had the balls to ask a near stranger about his sexuality at his age. Hell, he was still figuring himself out back then, not announcing it to the family over pizza like Dylan apparently had.
“You know about ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,’ right?” Apollo straightened the haphazard stacks of cards.
“Yeah. Mom says it’s going to be repealed really soon.”
“Well it’s not yet. So yeah, I’m gay, but I’m also not exactly out. I’m going to trust you not to say anything to Dustin’s other friends, right?”
“Of course. But, man that must suck.” Dylan’s voice held far more empathy than Apollo would have thought possible from a fifteen-year-old. “So Dustin’s the only one who knows?”
“Dustin and a few other close friends, but yeah, mostly I just keep my head down, do my job.”
“What are you going to do when you meet someone?” Dylan sounded way too interested in the answer.
It was something Apollo had thought about a fair amount, but he wasn’t going to admit that. “Hasn’t happened yet.”
Of course, not six months later, it had happened. Wait. Had that really been eight years ago? It didn’t seem possible, but at the same time, it felt like he’d lived a lifetime in the years since that visit. He could still remember the wind whipping around him as they zoomed up 101 on their motorcycles, exploring the California and Oregon coast. God, they’d been so young. As young as that guy in the grocery store. Before Neal. Before the girls. Before...
Apollo shook his head, not willing to get sucked into a spiral of grief and regrets. Lord knew he had enough of that.
“Even if he is more...adult now, that doesn’t mean I need him here.” Apollo turned the gas grill on to preheat before taking a seat in the lounger opposite Dustin. His back gave an unhappy twinge. Damn. He’d forgotten that this chair was too low.
“Sure you do. Your mom is still going to Greece, right?” Dustin tossed the bright pink ball at him.
“Yeah.” Apollo easily caught the ball. “But Neal’s parents are going to help out where they can, and I’ll hire—”
“Your in-laws are what, late sixties now? They’re not up to daily childcare. And I’m offering you a way to not have to interview and vet babysitters.”
“I wasn’t intending on anyone living here.” Apollo threw the ball back. He and the girls and his mother had a routine going. He needed that routine. He did not need someone upsetting all his careful organization. It was bad enough that his mother and two of his aunts were going to be gone two months on the trip of a lifetime. It was hard to begrudge her something that she’d saved and planned years for, but Apollo still hated the coming upheaval.
“It’s the perfect solution. Dylan will help out when you have to work late, and he can take the girls to day camp with him during the day. They’ll love the rec center camp, you’ll see.”
“I’m not sure they’re old enough—”
“They’re going to be in kindergarten in the fall. Trust me, being around other kids instead of just a babysitter will be great for them.”
Like Apollo needed another reminder that time was marching on. How were the babies almost kindergarteners? “And you know this how, bachelor of the decade?”
“My sisters all have kids. And Dylan’s always spouting all that early childhood psychology stuff too.”
Dylan, little Dylan, taking psychology classes was something Apollo still couldn’t wrap his head around. “I don’t think I could have someone around the girls, sight unseen—”
“I knew you’d say that. He’s on his way over.”
“He’s what?” Back be damned, Apollo leaped off the chair. Was he going to have to deal with this today? “Isn’t he in Oregon?”
“Relax. He was in town for the day camp job interview, decided to stay a few extra days. I told him to stop by after I had a chance to work on you.”
“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.” Apollo glared down at Dustin who responded by hefting himself out the chair.
“I know you.” Dustin met him glare for glare, close to two decades of friendship between them. He was the only one in the world Apollo would let get away with crap like this. “And if you let yourself slow down and think about this, you’ll see that it’s the perfect solution for everyone.”
Apollo didn’t believe in perfect, not anymore. He looked away, trying to find the right words to tell Dustin that his guest room was not a La Quinta for recent grads, even beloved brothers of best friends.
“This would mean a lot to me.” Dustin leaned in. “Look, we both know that my team’s due to go wheels up any time now, and the kid took this job because I’m here. If I knew you were looking out for him—”
“Is the grill ready?” Apollo’s mother bustled out onto the patio with a huge tray of food. “And Dustin, your brother’s here. The girls already claimed him. We might want to rescue him eventually.”
“Excellent.” Dustin shot Apollo a look, one that clearly said, see, your kids like him. And he’d had to go making it out like Apollo would be doing him a favor. Because Apollo couldn’t say no to that, not after all the times Dustin had had his back when it mattered most.
“Help! I’ve been captured!” A husky laugh echoed across the yard as a guy emerged through the sliding glass door, one twin under each arm.
Apollo had to blink, because there, wearing a tiara and a much-too-small cape, was perfect butt guy from the store. Because of course it was. Such was Apollo’s luck lately.
“Dylan?” he managed to ask. Not like there was much doubt, but a stubborn part of him didn’t want to admit how badly he was fucked. He couldn’t say no to Dustin, but he also couldn’t spend a summer contending with that.
“What’s up, Apollo?” Dylan flashed him a grin full of dimples and mischief. Yeah, that was all kinds of trouble, and Apollo had no room for trouble.
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.
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open--no flashlights required! When she's not adding to her keeper shelf, she's a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
Annabeth Albert
Always You by RJ Scott
At Attention by Annabeth Albert
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