I am not a fan or follower of any sport but I enjoy reading romance books that feature all kinds of them. What I really love about the hockey romances by this writing duo is that the focus isn’t all about the sport – especially this book – it’s more about the people.

Shield is a lovely slow-burn romance about family and making connections. Oliver and his two girls have to adjust to life in a completely new setting. I would imagine that moving from NY to LA would be quite a shock and not just the weather. I loved how his new hockey family rallied around him and offered help when he needed it.

Jackson’s job as a detective is stressful and a case he is working on brings him into contact with Oliver. These two are so good together! I also enjoyed the comradery between Jackson and his detective partner, Mack.

As is always true for me when reading an RJ Scott story, including the ones she co-authors like this one, all of my emotions get involved while reading. Parts of this touched me deeply and parts made me chuckle.

Spiral, the next book in the LA Storm series is about Oliver’s best friend, Jamie who was a great secondary character in Shield; I can’t wait to read it!

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I parked my Ducati in a small lot next to the clinic, the familiar sounds of the neighborhood enveloping me as I dismounted. The laughter of children as they played on the sidewalks, the distant buzz of traffic, and the occasional shouts from windows were more real to me than the place I’d grown up in affluent Dallas suburbs where money was king. I could do some good here.

As I walked into the clinic, I immediately felt at home. There was a warmth and bustle to the place, volunteers chatting, trying to make a difference, kids crying, parents in groups. I waved to Lazlo on reception. He’d changed the color of his hair again—now blue from green—and he grinned at me.

“Yo, Cowboy,” he called.

I headed that way. “Hey Laz, is Joe in?”

Lazlo frowned, leaned closer, and lowered his voice. “He gone all do-not-disturb, not seeing patients, and he’s losing his shit with everyone who knocks on his door.”

That didn’t sound good. Joe was former military, a medic, and the guy who ran this place on nothing but fluff and buttons. He was ruthless at recruiting volunteer doctors and nurses, an expert at guilting big pharma to donate, rough and ready, and dragging this entire community to good health one case at a time. But he was also a gentle giant, loved people as much as they loved him, and losing his shit didn’t sound like him at all. Maybe it was a money thing? I could help with that. I saved money every year for my girls, a trust fund that would see them happy and settled with a good start, but after that and my sole luxury—the Ducati—everything else I gave away.

Not that anyone knew, and they never would.

“Had a couple of referrals for you,” Lazlo said, slapping some files down. “Why don’t you take them, and this…” He placed a coffee next to it, “… see if you can cheer Joe up.”

Referrals were about moms with breast cancer, the same cruel disease that had taken Melissa, or those newly diagnosed with diabetes in fact, any families who struggled where Lazlo thought I could help I picked up the files, headed through the door to the consultation rooms, passing walls adorned with handmade posters and kids’ art, and finally through the last door, marked staff only, with my key card.

I knocked on the door, juggling paperwork and the coffee, using my elbow on the handle, and tumbling inside with a grin on my face, all ready to cheer Mr. Grumpy up.

Only to find him at the wrong end of a gun, bleeding from a head wound, and barely able to move.

L.A. Storm Series

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