RJ Scott and V.L. Locey know just how to write a story that will captivate, rip your heart out and put you back together again and Snowed was all of these things for me. This book has so many of the romance tropes that I love: second chances, friend-to-lovers and forced proximity. It also has an element of danger that I didn’t see coming. I’m not going to talk about the danger element though, because I think it would be too spoiler-y.

After being best friends since they were toddlers, Kyle made the difficult decision to leave Christian for a pro hockey career. Christian sent him on his way believing that they would still stay connected. However, their relationship died when Kyle never returned home, not even to visit his parents.

I would never have guessed what the root cause was for Kyle to stay away from his home town; he didn’t even really know why until all was revealed during the story. When they are reunited after Kyle is stranded in a snow storm and he ends up knocking on Christian’s door, they both realize that their love for each other never really stopped.

I don’t know if this is the most dramatic story I’ve read from this writing duo but it certainly has to rank up there pretty high. I don’t want to give the impression that it’s super angsty because I’m not sure that’s what I would call it. There were definitely tense moments, maybe more than a few, but I knew that everything would work out OK in the end because RJ and V.L. have never failed me in that regard.

Snowed is the third book in the Boston Rebels series but I think you can easily read this one as a standalone. While hockey is definitely part of the story, I feel like it’s much more focused on the relationship between Kyle and Christian and the suspense element. The entire hockey world that these writers have created is fantastic so even if you read this as a standalone, I highly recommend all of the interconnected hockey books written by RJ and V.L.

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It took me a few moments to clear my head and make an assessment. Other than my shoulder, I was okay. Sore and trembling but safe. Thank God for seatbelts. If I’d not been strapped in, I would have been flying through the windshield and kissing a tree. That thought made me queasy. I tried the windshield wipers. They made one pass then died. It was just enough to see that the front of the Explorer was bent around a fat fir tree.

“Great,” I moaned, easing my right hand down to free myself from the seatbelt. Powder from the airbags filled the interior, making me cough and sputter. The headlights were still on. Which was good. Sitting here in the woods alone in the dark made me edgy. The unseen could be lurking in the forest, silent, like the wolves that prowled the muskeg, forests, and tundra of Manitoba. There was plenty around home that could kill you that didn’t dwell in your nightmares. “Fucking great.” I checked my phone for service even though I knew there wouldn’t be this far from Eagle Ridge during a blizzard. “Fuck,” I snarled, which ignited a new pain in my neck. Super, so I now had whiplash as well as a re-fucked shoulder. “Asshole moose.”

I knew the area well. I had to get somewhere warm and call for a tow truck. There was little to be done for my shoulder. That would have to wait until I could get to Churchill where they had a pretty decent health center. It would set me back a few weeks. I gave it another ten minutes then my headlights began to dim. A deep, unsettling unease crept into my chest. Without the lights on the dash or the headlights, the darkness would descend.

Grabbing my Rebels duffel, my childhood stick, and the bag of presents for my parents, I took the keys from the ignition and exited the car. Snow whipped around me, tiny bits of ice mixing in with the flakes to scour any exposed skin. Thankfully, I had worn my thickest winter coat. The son of Miriam Enook Lourenco knew enough to dress in layers. Shame he didn’t know enough to not run off the damn road. Fear spurred me on. The wind was brutally cold. The outside temperature, according to the dash of Rocky’s totaled SUV, had read zero degrees Fahrenheit, which was normal for this time of year. I took a few steps, my hood cinched around my head, and turned on the flashlight that was in the car, to give me about a foot of light before the snow cut the beam into nothingness. I swallowed. It was fine. I knew where I was. Christian had a cabin just a mile or so down Egret Lane. Head down, I pushed into the storm, the snow already to my knees.

Once I got into the woods, the wind did ease a bit, but not enough. Something cracked behind me. I spun around with a gasp, heart pounding in my breast, and waved the light back and forth.

“Who is it?” I shouted, but the gale force winds carried my words away. I stood there, locked in fear, snow battering my face like a sandblaster, squinting to see into the maelstrom.

Just a tree. It was just a tree breaking and falling. Nothing to worry about. It’s not the unseen. Just keep walking. You know this road. Round the bend. Up the knoll. The old Adjuk place. Mom told you all about it. Dad helped Christian put on a new roof when he bought it. You’re safe, just keep walking.

Boston Rebels Series

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