I am loving this series so much. Poke Check is about Stan, the Russian goalie for the Harrisburg Railers and Erik, a new Railer called up from the AHL. The story is told in first person alternating between Stan and Erik.

Poke Check has one of my favorite tropes – second chance romance. Erik and Stan met at a summer conditioning camp and the sparks flew between them. Erik is from Sweden but speaks good English; Stan not so much. The language barrier didn’t keep them from falling in love and Stan was heartbroken when Erik walked away. Erik had a very good reason for leaving Stan but he didn’t tell him or get in touch with him. Now he has to face Stan every day on the ice.

I just loved the chemistry between these two. And I love Stan’s lack of command of the English language:

“Yes, flukes happen. I am off to see pussy now.”
Pete laughed. “Yeah, I bet you are. Night, Stan.”

And this exchange:

“I’ll make a beeline for you if this so much as twitches.” He patted his breast.
“Is good friend make beeline.” I cuffed him on the shoulder. “What is beeline?”
He rolled his arm a bit after I tapped him. “It means I’ll come straight to you. Like a bee flies.”
“But bee no fly straight. Bee go from flower to flower, sucking sweet, in funky curl lines.” I drew circles in the air with my finger.
Coach Madsen made that face. It was the face people make at me often when I point out that English sayings are not sensible sometimes.
“Okay, right, that’s true.”
“So, why is saying beeline if go straight? Why not say cowline? Cow go straight.”
“I don’t know why it’s not a cowline, Stan, it’s a beeline.”
“Also bird fly straight. As crow flies. Maybe say birdline.” I nodded. Coach stared up at me. I waited for him to say something.
“Fine, I’ll make a birdline to you if this so much as twitches.”
“Ah, good. Making sense. Thanks. I make saves now.”
“You do that.”

Stan has provided quite a bit of comic relief throughout the other books in the series. It was great to finally find out what drives him. Poke Check is a very tender love story – about family as well as lovers. Stan’s love of his mother and sisters is so touching and once he meets Erik’s baby, Noah, his heart melted and so did mine. When Stan is reunited with his mother and then she meets Noah – it was another mult-hankie moment for me.

This is such a great series and I’m very happy that there are more books coming.

Reviews for RJ Scott

Reviews for V.L. Locey

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Stan:There are many people I would have rather seen standing on the ice of my practice arena than Erik. For example my beloved sister, Galina, my sainted mother, Arina, my cat, Lucy, or my new gay American heartthrob, Zachary Quinto.

Zachary would be wearing only a smile even though it’s cold on the ice.

But no, none of them were standing in front of me wearing a Railers sweater and curls. Those damn golden curls. They’d always tempted me beyond sense. As had his mouth. And the way he would tilt his head when he was trying to understand me out of bed. In bed? There was no language barrier. Our bodies had always been tuned to each other like radio waves to a satellite dish.

Even now, I felt the low hum of his presence in my veins. I had feared this moment would come. From the first time I’d heard his name mentioned as being a new member of the Rush, our AHL feeder team, I’d known he would eventually stand in front of me, tipping his head, with his curls, his eyes and his mouth.

Connor was looking at me as if he expected something from me. Ah yes, words. He wanted me to say something. How did “go fuck a donkey” translate into English?

“We are known to each other.”

I skated to my net, mask perched on my head, and tried to focus. The humming in my blood was unsettling. Closing my eyes, I let the blue ice under my skates talk to me. Opening myself up to the sounds of hockey, the stress of seeing Erik again lessened. I whispered to the pipes as I tapped them. Asked them in Russian if they were going to be my friends during this practice.

“Uh, hey, I know this is a strict breach of protocol and all…but is there a problem between you and Gunner?”

I glanced to the left. Tennant stood there, geared up, his stick casually resting across his shoulders. So Erik now had his American hockey nickname. Why didn’t I have a new American hockey nickname? Pah. I was being petty. It tasted bad on my tongue.

“Gunner is okay person from time back in space.” Was that right? English was hard to speak. It made no sense. How could there be three ways to spell one word? Russian was simple. Strong. Pure. A language of passion and spirit. American was whiney and tied my brain into knots. No, that was not true. American was a wonderful language. It was me who was whiney and unhappy. “Time back. In the back of time. Is bad time to talk. Go away.”

Harrisburg Railers Series

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