The premise of this one is that Hawke and Vale were like a Katy Perry song and living a real teenage dream of booze and sex back in the day. When Hawke got called up for a chance at the hockey bigs, Vale broke it off. Fast forward to the present and Vale walking back into Hawke’s life – this time as an assistant trainer to the hockey team. You know what happens next, right????
Ha! I keed. Of course they bang . . . well, eventually. It’s a romance so they have to go through all the angsty bullcrap and backstory first, but then . . . .
Hawke was just aiiiiiiiight for me. Let me ‘splain myself so you can decide if I read it wrong (spoiler alert: I probably read it wrong).
#1. I like sporty porns okay, but hockey is not my go-to when I’m thinking of a super smexified leading male. My brain immediately wants to picture things like this . . . .
Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut, there is an exception to every rule and the piercing blue eyes and beardy faced description helped me work through this issue . . .
#2. The tired trope was weak with this one, young Skywalker. I am very much a fan of the worn out storyline . . . if it’s one I like. One I can barely tolerate is the “we broke up and never talked to the other again, but it was the other person’s fault and since we are infantile we never bothered having one mothereffing conversation that could clear the entire mess up and lead us to happily ever after and even after we start banging again we are fucking idiots who don’t communicate” and FFS!!!!!!!!
#3. The failed alpha male. Now I don’t get offended by some dude pulling alpha and trying to get a little tongue without having a consent form signed in triplicate, but I don’t really get turned on by it either. That being said, if you’re gonna go there, go there. Getting all emo and . . .
is not acceptable.
#4. Hawke was pretty hot with the actual smexies, but sadly it takes but a word for me to lose my potential O face. This time the word was keening. To quote the immortal Inigo Montoya: “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” Keening makes me think of a noise made from grief, not from ecstasy. Either that or . . .
Either way, it’s a no-go when it comes to my husband’s chances of getting some lovin’ (good thing he was out of town when I read this one so he has no disappoint).
Bottom line is this wasn’t the worst so I’ll give it my standard 3 Stars and let y’all decide whether to read it or not. As for me, I’ll continue with my quest for the perfect romance . . .