Title: Valentine's Hearts
Authors: RJ Scott & VL Locey
Series: Owatonna U #5
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: February 12, 2021
Cover Design: Meredith Russell
Will broken hearts replace the wedding they dreamed of?
Ryker's heart has space for three things—his family, hockey, and Jacob. As their wedding grows closer, it seems that nothing can stand in the way of an idyllic celebration, surrounded by friends and loved ones. But things appear to be changing; Jacob is forging a future that might take him away from Ryker, and Ryker alternates between pride and fear when a new man comes into his fiancé's life. A hockey season from hell has him doubting his life choices, but worse, he's driving Jacob into another man's arms. How has their perfect life suddenly gone so wrong?
Life has certainly thrown many twists and turns in Jacob's path. Most of the goals he’d set for himself as a teenager had to change, but one has remained constant: finding his heart's desire and marrying him. That aspiration was reached when Ryker said, "I do". Planning their wedding was meant to be the best time of their lives, but Jacob unwittingly puts his trust in the wrong man and finds himself in danger. Is their love strong enough to survive the fallout?
First and foremost: WOW! WOW! and WOW AGAIN!
I've always had a special place in my heart for Ryker and Jacob. Maybe it's because Ryker is the son of the original entry and character in Scott & Locey hockey universe, Jared Madsen, maybe it's because Jacob is a farmboy born and raised from the upper Midwest, maybe it's because they are just so darn cute . . . or the most likely scenario: a combination of all three. In my mind, there is just not enough Valentine's Day stories, despite reading so much romance it doesn't seem to be a holiday that gets a lot of settings so when one of my favorite series and characters were getting their own Valentine novella, I knew I had to read it.
I was not disappointed.
For a holiday wedding novella, there is a surprising amount of drama that our couple faces and though I won't go into just what that drama is, I will say that Ryker and Jacob deal with it realistically, heartwarmingly, and flat out beautifully, which is a perfect example of why I love these guys, this universe, and these authors. I won't say anymore other than to add, once it happened I had a hope where it would end up, or at least be mentioned and I was right. Cryptic, I know(as I often say "no spoilers from me"), but once you read it you will understand where my hope stemmed from.
Ryker is growing, both on and off the ice but he still has that hot headedness that comes with having that much talent at a young age and can leave one a bit reckless when your head isn't entirely on the ice as it should be. Jacob is growing as well, finding his place in the "desert" but never quite losing that need for the farm, truth is there is more to Jacob's place at the university but I don't want to give too much away so I'll just stop here in that regard. Together they are a force to be reckoned with which is expressed amazingly well when they face the future.
Valentine's Hearts is the latest entry in the authors' Owatonna U series but since Ryker has appeared in all three series that make up Scott & Locey's hockey universe, there are some character relationships and cameos from multiple entries. Does that mean you have to read all 19 previous books before this one? No, but as a series reader I know I enjoyed it more having read them all in order as written. If you haven't been reading this universe prior to Valentine's and 19 sounds like a big number, I do highly recommend at least reading Ryker and Christmas Lights of the Owatonna U series as they tell Ryker and Jacob's story so far. A true reading gem and definitely worthy of it's place in RJ Scott & VL Locey's hockey universe(serious ladies you need an umbrella title for that😉😊😉).
RATING:
One
Jacob
My eyes burned. And no amount of rubbing them was helping.
“… the same thing all the time? Maybe we should experiment sometime. Do some hot and sour soup or beef and broccoli.” Ryker’s voice broke my concentration. I sat up, scrubbed at my face with my fingertips, and focused on the proposal that’d fallen to me to type up. Why me? I was the newest guy.
“Yeah, we should,” I called back to my fiancé who was dishing up our late lunch/ early dinner in the kitchen behind me. Mind snapping back to work from Ryker, I stared at my laptop resting on my thighs and tried to pick up the threads of what was, in effect, a groveling letter from the U of A ag department to the company that’d been paying us to research and report on their seeds and would hopefully continue to do so. I began typing, blocking out everything and everyone in my space.
Furthermore, through our technology differentiator we have made great strides in understanding the microbial interactions of the latest Bygenta BG Triple Grow which have allowed us to lower the cost of drying time by 0.07 per bushel. Combining that with the higher yield growth and moisture advantage we see a possible change in bushels/ acres needed to recoup additional seed cost from $ 3.81 BU/ A to $ 3.27 BU/ A. Further testing on Bygenta BG Triple Grow should show significant gains for hybrid high yield corn seeds if combined with above ground technology to combat the Southwestern Corn Borer. Additional testing could save farmers millions of dollars a year in management costs and—
The lid of my laptop snapped shut. “Hey,” I snarled. Ryker lifted the Dell from my thighs, placed it onto the coffee table, and then took its place. “I was in the middle of something.”
“I know, you’re always in the ‘middle of something,’ even on the weekends. You worked on Christmas Day and yesterday— and they were our two days off together.”
“I didn’t,” I lied.
“Don’t think I didn’t see you take your phone into the bedroom and then not come out for an hour.” “I was…” I had no excuse really, because I’d been checking on overnight reports, but that was the job, and I had a deadline that coincided with Christmas Day, and then more on the twenty-sixth. Then I recalled a fact that made his accusations seem wrong. “How do you know what I was doing? You were in a turkey coma on the big day.”
“A turkey coma that would’ve been better snuggling with you on the sofa.” He was making it sound as if he was joking, but there was an edge to his tone. Why didn’t he get that I needed to put the hours in— the same as he’d done getting to be a pro hockey player? He’d done the hours, still did them, and now it was my turn. I had all that defense in my head, but he didn’t give me a chance to talk. “Eat.” He settled squarely on my lap, a huge bowl of chow mein in his hand. I huffed at the interruption just as my stomach grumbled. “See, you’re hungry.”
He held the green ceramic bowl out to me; his dancing hazel eyes alight. Sighing, I took the bowl as he plucked some chopsticks out of his back pocket. Cradling the bowl to my chest, Ryker wiggled his ass around a bit then gathered up some savory noodles, bok choy, and a fat mushroom and led them to my mouth. I opened and let him drop the food in. Then he gathered some for himself, and then for me, and so on. We sat chewing, staring at each other, the weight of him on my thighs pleasant and arousing. When his tongue danced over my lips I grunted and wished we didn’t have our meal between us. He licked in when I opened my mouth, moaning. He tasted of soy sauce and ginger.
“Do we have time?” I asked breathlessly when the kiss ended. He opened his mouth to reply just as his phone alarm sounded. We both mumbled in disgust. “Guess not.”
“Sorry, we have a game tonight.” He dropped a dry kiss to my brow and jumped up, leaving the chow mein behind. “We’ll pick this up when I get home, yeah?”
“Sure, yeah.”
His smile brightened the room. “Excellent. Finish that up. You’ll watch the game?”
“Of course. Go. You know how Coach gets when you’re late.”
He looked as if he wanted to say something more but he just nodded then ran off to change. Within minutes he was in a suit, his shades on, earbuds dangling round his neck, and his hand on the doorknob. I was still on our tan couch holding the bowl of takeout.
“Are you sure you can’t come to the game? Maybe we could go out afterward? Check out that restaurant that we were talking about having the reception at?” He stood waiting at the door.
“I have to get this proposal done or I’d go,” I explained for the fourth time. He forced a smile and bobbed his head, soft curls falling over his sunglasses. “As for that restaurant, I thought we’d decided it was too expensive for the reception.”
“No, you decided it was too expensive. But whatever. I have to go.”
I let the jab roll off my back. There were few things Ryker and I argued about, but money always seemed to be a problem. He tended to spend without thought, and I held onto every penny. I knew it was because of our childhoods. He’d grown up with Jared Madsen as a father, a hockey superstar who could afford to give his only child— at the time— anything he desired, from hockey equipment and cars, to cash for college. Then there was my childhood on a struggling dairy farm, wearing the same chore coat and boots until my feet busted out of them because my parents couldn’t afford new ones. A farm that my parents had ended up losing. The cost of this wedding was a constant source of contention.
“Ryker, don’t get pissy. I’m just saying—”
He threw a hand into the air then left, the slamming door jarring me. I blew out a long breath then pushed to my feet, tossing the bowl of takeout to the end table. I padded to the window to watch him. He stalked out of our brick building, cut through the small flower and cactus garden, and headed toward the arena. We could see it from our window. Brow dropping to the warm glass, I stared down at him until he disappeared from view.
“When will you learn to just shut up?” I asked myself then lifted my head and stepped out onto our tiny balcony. There was room for one chair and a tomato plant out here. I knelt beside the plant and touched the dirt. Dry. Everything out here was always dry. Heaving a sigh, I stood, went to get some water in a glass and my laptop, and came back out to give Mr. Roma a drink. Then I sat beside it, legs stretched out in front of me and I watched the sky for the longest time, wishing I had handled the most recent tense moment with Ryker differently.
“I just have to chill out, let him do the wedding his way, and everything will be fine,” I said to my tomato plant. “Just stop fighting him about costs. I mean, who cares if we blow every penny in our savings account? What’s financial security compared to having four hundred guests and shrimp canapés? What the hell is a canapé anyway?”
Mr. Roma just sat there in his pot, soaking up the sun. Man, I wished we had a dog. I missed dogs. I’d grown up with the best farm dogs. There was nothing like a dog at your side. They listened much better than a tomato plant. But there were no pets allowed here. To be fair, a small apartment with two men who worked/ travelled all the time was no place for a dog. For a dog, we’d need a house. For a house, we’d need a down payment. For a down payment, we’d need to stop planning an extravagant wedding and put the cash aside. And here we were back at money again.
“Ugh.” My head dropped back to the brick wall. Mr. Roma was no help at all. “I bet an Early Girl tomato plant would have had better advice.”
My phone buzzed against my ass. Hoping it was Ryker calling before he entered the dressing room to say he was sorry, I lifted an ass cheek and yanked the cell free of denim. I was monumentally disappointed to see that it was Adam Isaksson calling— my boss and lead on the Bygenta study. The millionaire tech giant was all about sustainability, and determined to change the world— I felt honored to be part of this new future at inception, and he valued my input on all levels.
“Hey, Adam,” I said as I flipped open my laptop and found the document I’d been typing before the Ryker/ chow mein interruption.
“I’m glad I caught you. Do you have that proposal for Bygenta done?”
I looked at the mostly blank screen. I had two paragraphs. Did that count as done? Doubtful. My gut began to churn.
“I’m working on it.”
“Good! Finish it up then bring it to me and we’ll polish it tomorrow. They’re eager to see our results so far over in the main office. I’ve told them about the incredible work that this team, and you in particular, have been doing. I’m calling everyone to ensure all the data has been double and triple-checked. After we’re done we can grab dinner somewhere and discuss your future with Bygenta Agrochemicals.”
On some surface level, it was nice to have him speak so highly of me. I’d been working my ass off on this project, and Adam had been supportive of all the time and energy I’d put into my work. Unlike Ryker, who only bitched about my job. Still, if I went to his place to work tomorrow Ryker would come unhinged. I sensed that Ryker disliked Adam for some reason he wouldn’t cop to.
“But tomorrow is Sunday. I have plans with Ryker to ride out to the ten bakeries he has on his wedding list and—”
“Jacob, I know it’s the weekend, and I’m sorry for calling you in, but this is too big a chance for you to miss out on. If it’s any consolation, I had to cancel a dinner date with my mother in Tempe. And you know how much I love spending Sundays with her.”
Yeah. I did know. Adam Isaksson was close to his mother and spoke of her with great affection. I’d learned a lot about Adam over the past few months of this massive study. If I could just wrap this job up with a stellar report, Adam had promised to drop my name when he reported to the main Bygenta office in Switzerland. Maybe I’d get a higher position with more pay, then Ryker and I could stop fighting over cash all the time.
Now I felt doubly shitty. “Sorry. I know this sucks for all of us. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Jacob. Tell Ryker I’m really sorry for ruining your plans.”
“He’ll understand.” I lied a huge lie. Even Mr. Roma knew it and was judging me in silence as only a tomato plant can. “See you tomorrow.”
I cut the call and then let my phone slither down my chest to my leg, then onto the cement. Great. This would not go over well. We’d had Christmas and the twenty-sixth off together, but that had been caught up in Skype calls, and visits, and turkey, and tomorrow — the one day Ryker had off before a Canadian road trip — I get called into work to prepare for some asshole from the main office in some other country. Gazing at Tucson’s arid mountain backdrop, I longed for Minnesota and the soft lows of cattle. It was seventy degrees in January. No way would I ever get used to the lack of seasons.
I missed snow and cold so much I could taste it. This city and this small apartment were chafing at me. I needed a big farmhouse, acres of corn and soy to tend to, cattle to milk, calves to bottle-feed and raise. I needed a dog.
“Nothing personal, Mr. Roma.” I reached over to pat his green leaves. There was no wagging tail or lick of my hand. Blowing out a breath that puffed up my cheeks, I opened my laptop, rolled my head, winced at the cracking of my neck, and dove back into the world of dry data and ass-kissing. This whole Arizona experiment was not working out as I’d envisioned. It was midnight when Ryker got home.
I was waiting up with a sour stomach, a fake smile, and a tray of chicken tenders right out of the oven. He’d had a very bad game, monumentally bad, according to the play-by-play man, not that I saw all of it, because reports waited for no man.
“Hey,” he said after tossing his jacket and tie to the back of the couch.
“Hey. Sorry about the loss. Boston is always tough,” I said while sliding his tenders off the cookie sheet and onto a plate. He eyed the tenders suspiciously. “I knew you’d be down after a rough game so…” I waved at his favorite food then served him the plate. “Blue cheese or ranch?”
“Ranch. I really shouldn’t be eating this kind of stuff,” he whispered as he lifted a tender from the plate and broke it in two. “I’ll be doing ten miles on the treadmill tomorrow.”
“You’re pretty dedicated to your diet. A treat every once in a while won’t hurt.”
He smiled then blew over the half a tender, sitting on the kitchen counter. I unscrewed the lid to the dressing then squeezed a big dollop onto the edge of his plate. He rewarded me with a smile— the most beautiful smile on the planet. I’d better cherish it because once I told him about tomorrow it would be gone.
“You always know how to make me feel good,” he said. I had to look away. I’d never been good at deceit. “What?” When I worked up the courage to glance back, his brow was furrowed like a well-worked wheat field. “You might as well tell me.”
“Don’t get mad.” As soon as I said it I knew it was stupid to say that. His sleek eyebrows dropped into a ‘V’. “I can’t go visit bakeries tomorrow because I have to go to work.”
There was a harrowing span of like fifteen seconds where he said or did nothing. Then he flung the dish of chicken tenders to the counter.
“It’s Sunday. You don’t work on Sunday. We set this up five weeks ago because it was the only Sunday I was home and not playing.”
“I’m sorry, I am! I just… Adam called and said we need to get this update into Bygenta and—”
“Fuck that project, fuck Bygenta, and fuck Adam! This is our wedding, Jacob! Do you even care about it at all?!” His gaze snapped with anger and pain.
“Of course I care!” I fired back, feeling like a lowlife bastard.
“Do you? Do you really care? I’m killing myself with the planning and playing hockey and all you do is shoot down and shit all over everything I propose. What the hell kind of wedding do you want? Do you just want to go stand in front of some JP?”
“Maybe! At least that would be sensible. We’re supposed to be saving for a house, Ryker! And kids. How do we plan to make all of that happen when we toss every penny we have into this stupid wedding?”
“Nice, so it’s ‘stupid.’ Good to know.”
“I never said the wedding was stupid.” Fuck, I had said that. Shit. This was spiraling out of control quickly. “I didn’t mean the wedding is stupid. I want to marry you. I want us to have what my parents have and yours have. It’s just all this pomp and circumstance is… well it’s stupid. You’ve fallen into the trap.”
“The trap.” He said it so emotionlessly that I knew I was deep in the shit. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Yeah, a trap. The wedding industry has warped peoples’ minds. My folks had a small wedding at home. The pastor came to my grandmother’s house and married them, then they had their reception in a hay barn followed with a short camping trip by a nearby lake. Why can’t we do that? Why do we have to have canapés and silk tablecloths and two entire hockey teams?”
“Wow, so this close to Valentine’s Day you decide to finally be honest with me. That’s fucking great, Jacob.” He threw his hands into the air, hurt and ire rolling off him in waves that seared my flesh and heart. “Just so you know, I’ve always wanted a big wedding.”
“I know, trust me. It’s all you talk about,” I snapped, and his eyes widened. “It is! Ever since I asked you to marry me, you’ve told me over and over about how you wanted to find a pretty girl, have a big wedding, spend a couple weeks in Europe, and then settle down to raise kids.”
“I never specified it had to be a girl!” He was jacked now and so was I. “I mean shit, Jacob, you’re a gay man! Aren’t you the least bit into having the kind of wedding that straight couples have been able to enjoy forever?”
I rolled my eyes. His jaw tightened. “I don’t care about all the bullshit that goes with marrying you. I just want to marry you. I want a house and a dog and kids.”
“So do I!” he shouted and I winced. “And I want a wedding to be proud of. Not some hayseed hootenanny in some miserable barn.”
Ouch. Shit, that hurt. “Right okay, well, maybe we should just rethink this whole thing then since my dreams of a wedding are so below your standards!” Now I was yelling.
“Maybe we should!” He spun, grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch, and headed to the door. I gaped at him as he stalked out into the hall. “I’m going to Alex’s.”
He jerked the door shut. My hands were fisted in rage and so I did the one thing I could think of. I stuffed the chicken tenders down the sink, flipped on the garbage disposal, and ground them up. Then I fought back tears for a minute or two or ten.
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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.
USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey – Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, Torchwood and Dr. Who, 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 pair of geese, far too many chickens, and two 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 one hand and a steamy romance novel in the other.
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
VL Locey
Valentine Hearts #5
Harrisburg Series
Owatonna U Series
