Summary:
Boston Rebels #5
Love doesn’t have a formula. It’s messy, unpredictable, and impossible to control for the autistic billionaire inventor and the hockey player who believes he’s lost everything.
Moral “Dunny” Dunkirk has a passion for life. A robust outdoorsman, lover of life, and one of the Boston Rebels fan favorites, Dunny has always embraced excitement and the drive to try new things. During his inaugural flight behind the controls of a small plane, the fates decide to test his mettle in a way that he had never envisioned. When everything crashes down around him, he’s lost in depression and alone in his cabin, facing an existence that is nothing like the one he previously led. Desperate to find some hope, Dunny reaches out to The Harvey Foundation who might be able to help, and he soon finds himself being lifted out of the pit of darkness he’d fallen into one shy uplifting smile at a time.
Accidental billionaire and inventor Cooper Harvey is only happy in the seclusion of his lab, creating new and wonderful things he is sure will make the world a better place. Being on the spectrum, he knows being autistic means he's different to others, but it's in a good way, and it only makes him better at what he does. Other than being blackmailed into spending every fourth Sunday at his PA’s house for dinner, he avoids the chaos of the world, and if that means no social life, then he’s okay with that. In the most splendid isolation money can buy, he escapes the complicated and difficult emotions surrounding attraction, and his single-minded focus means that sex and love have never appeared on his list. When his latest invention reaches the testing stage, he would normally hand it over to his development team, but a chance meeting with the test subject makes him rethink. Something about the hockey player who’d lost it all makes him think life isn’t all about measured chemical reactions, and sometimes it’s just about the craziness of love.
Even with the recent release of the 30th book in their hockey universe I still don't know for sure which author writes which character, truth is it doesn't matter because Scott & Locey create so fluently their individual writing skills and talents each bring to their collaborations mesh perfectly.
There is just so much I love about Blade. The characters obviously but also the adversities they face. This isn't the first time injuries have been addressed in Scott & Locey's Hockey Universe, this may be the most severe example but not the first. Let's face it, injuries and sports are a no-brainer going to happen at some point scenario.
How much is from pure research or personal experiences, I can't speak to but whichever it is they have an amazing realistic angle(for lack of a better word) when it comes to health issues. Be it full-on health conditions or from injuries suffered on or off the ice, they are spot on with the emotions of both the survivor and support system. I say "survivor" because for those who don't know me, my mother has had health issues that have left her disabled for 30 years and her dad had MS and was in a wheelchair by the time I came along and I see neither as a victim, patient, or handicapped. I know not everyone who uses those terms mean it in a negative light but some do and so again I prefer the term "survivor". I would never wish health issues or injuries on anyone but too often those who don't have personal experience don't realize how damaging and hurtful being stared at can be as well as the flipside and turning away. It can be a thin line to toggle over but for those who experience it, that line can make the difference between a great day and devastating day.
I mentioned the above statement because in Blade, it is this very feeling that both Moral and Cooper, for different reasons but still both, have faced more than they should have to. That battle becomes both barrier and bridge between the two. Cooper living with autism and genius, Moral surviving the plane crash that took his leg and robbed him of the hockey future he always planned on leaves both of them in the public eye in ways neither want and wish to escape from. I want nothing more than to reassure both it's what they feel and see inside that is important, not what others project but I also know from experience we can only do so much to protect our loved ones, they have to come to some of those revelations themselves. It can be a very hard scale to balance but Scott & Locey portray that balance expertly.
Perhaps I've said more about my personal experiences than the book but in my opinion having a romantic fictional story speak to the reader so deeply says more to my love of said story than any plot-detailed review. Thank you, RJ Scott & VL Locey for this brilliantly written tale of survival, growth, friendship, and love. If it wasn't my love for Ten, Jared, and the whole Railers gang(which to be honest stems more from being first to burrow into my heart than superior content), Blade may actually be my favorite so far.
“Moral. Moral!” Strong hands gripped my shoulders and shook gently, snapping the hold the memory had on me. My eyes, which are now seeing my brother’s worried face, instead of the Canadian wilderness hurtling up to meet me, skitter around the room. Sweat runs down the back of my neck as my lungs stop seizing. Yes, yes, we are in Boston. At the tall tower that holds what my brother, my physical therapist, and my mental health counselor all believe to be my return to being able-bodied. “Moral, are you here with me now?”
“Yes, yes, I’m here. Sorry. I just…” I chanced a look at the skyline. The jet, now long gone, probably landed safely at Logan as hundreds of thousands of planes do every year. Millions perhaps. My shoulder aches. Wincing at the pressure on the reconstructed shoulder joint, I let out a shaky breath. “I saw a plane in the sky. Stupid I know.”
He leaned in to kiss my damp brow. We’ve always been affectionate like that. Mama and Papa were that way. Always hugging and kissing—me and my younger brother, each other, the dogs, the cats, friends, strangers. They were incredibly demonstrative. I missed them both so much.
“It is not stupid. It’s PTSD, which is very normal after a traumatic experience. Your counselor told you so many times.” I shrugged my good arm, moving around in my seat to ensure I can’t see the damn window anymore. “It will pass as time goes by. Once you’re back on your feet.” His eyes flared. “I mean when you’re recovered. I’m sorry. That was—”
“It was fine. A saying. Someday, yes, I will be back on my foot.” My sight touched on my lower half, the left leg so strong and thick, powerful from skating. Then the right, gone below the knee, my trouser leg pinned up neatly by my brother just this morning. Philippe wasn’t amused. “It was a joke. I’m a joker, right?”
“You don’t have to pretend, Moral,” he said before patting my cheek and returning to his seat. “And you will return to your life fully within a year or two, with lots of therapy and this new prosthetic alloy that Dr. Harvey is creating. When you’re sad, be sad. When you’re happy, be happy. I’m not the little boy who lost his parents and had to rely on you and Aunt Celeste to care for him. I’m twenty-six now.”
“Yes, and now you’re taking care of me. Isn’t life funny?” I asked, but there was no humor in the question. “We should just go home. I don’t think this experimental bullshit is for me, Philippe. I have too much therapy to get through…”
He was about to argue, as he did, the stubborn ass, when the door opened and the older woman returned with the reluctant looking man who had bolted what seemed like hours ago. A glance at my watch showed it had only been five minutes since the brilliant inventor with the wide brown eyes had left in such a hurry. I nudged Philippe and jerked my scruffy chin at my crutches. He hurried to comply, passing the crutches over, then reaching to help me out of the chair. I shot him a scowl. My brother lowered his hands to let me struggle upward. It didn’t go well with a healing shoulder and only one leg. Embarrassed at my weakness, I grunted at my brother in French, a quick request for aid. He whispered something back in our native tongue that was not complimentary as he levered me up to my feet. The doctor looked up at me as I wobbled around on my crutches, his dark eyes growing even wider behind his glasses as I got to my full height. Balanced now, I offered him my hand.
He seemed reluctant to take it, but after a slight poke from Miss Brianna, he clasped my fingers, gave them a quick pump, and then dropped them.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Harvey. Thank you for seeing us,” Philippe said jovially, the greeting obviously forced. There was nothing cheerful about this meeting. “My brother, Moral, and I are thrilled to have this time with you. Your personal assistant assured us that you would love to hear my brother’s story. That it would help in your creation of this new metal for athletic prosthetics. Were we not understanding the reply to our email?”
“Your email,” I muttered in French. Philippe shot me a glare.
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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.
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
VL Locey
EMAIL: vicki@vllocey.com
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