Blade By RJ Scott
and V.L. Locey
Genre: Contemporary, Romance, Sports, Hockey, GLBTQ, MM
Tropes: Autistic MC, Amputee, Billionaire inventor
Released: August 26, 2022
Publisher: Love Lane Books
Series: Boston Rebels, Book 5
Length: 56,000 words / 207 pages
Cover Design: Meredith Russell
Series Overview
Books should probably be read in order to get the best out of the series.
1. Top Shelf (Boston Rebels 1) – https://rjscott.co.uk/read-topshelf
2. Back Check (Boston Rebels 2) – https://rjscott.co.uk/read-backcheck
3. Snowed (Boston Rebels 3) – https://rjscott.co.uk/read-snowed
4. Royal Lines (Boston Rebels 4) – https://rjscott.co.uk/read-royal
5. Blade (Boston Rebels 5) – https://rjscott.co.uk/read-blade
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 he’s 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 happy in the seclusion of his lab, determined to make the world a better place one invention at a time. His autism gifts him with unique vision, but the media label him as quirky, reclusive, or a genius, depending on the day of the week, and it’s only in the most splendid isolation his vast wealth can buy that he feels safe. He goes out of his way to avoid sex with all its complicated and messy emotions, but a chance meeting with a test subject for his latest invention shakes his carefully controlled world. Interest in the hockey player who thinks he’s lost everything shows Cooper that life can’t be measured in chemical reactions, and attraction is unpredictable and messy. Terrified of facing something new, he doesn’t know where to turn, but maybe, if he’s brave and with a partner who sees beneath the surface, he can finally find a love that makes sense.
Reviewed by ButtonsMom2003
A sweet, slow-burn love story!
I swear, every new book in this series just keeps getting better and better. This story touched my heart so hard and brought me to tears more than once. It’s not really a sad story but it deals with some difficult things for both MCs and it made me feel so much!
If you follow RJ Scott at all then you probably know that she has an autistic son. I think that made Cooper’s character so real for me and I just wanted to hug him – but I know he wouldn’t like that, which is a bit sad.
There is an excellent blurb for this book so I’m not going to retell it here. Instead, I want to say how much I loved this book and how I stayed up all night reading it because I started it kind of late in the evening and I just couldn’t put it down until I was done.
♥♥♥♥♥
O Factor: Spicy
Moving to Kindle Unlimited on September 7th..
“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.
RJ Scott, author of M/M romance.
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.
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.
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