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Hockey Romance Books: Between the Pipes
Recommended reading whether you love hockey, romance or both.
LOL That’s a real quote from a reviewer. What if you love neither though?? I swear, there’s a genre for everything. There’s also Amish Lit. For real, look it up. And there are a lot of books on it. The Amish. Maybe I’ll find one for a review soon. I hope there’s Amish sex in them. But for now… Hockey!
Between the Pipes. I hope the pipes are a woman’s thighs. SCORE! I pucked her good. Right between the pucking pipes.
Guess what? This puckin’ book starts with a foreword. A book about hockey players sticking pucks and sticks in each other does not need a foreword. You know what needs forewords? Pucking reference books. The bible. Memoirs. Stop putting forewords and prefaces and prologues and introductions in your books, self-publishers. It’s becoming the brand of mediocrity. That said, allow me to unpack this foreword.
There’s three long and pointless rambling paragraphs about how writing is this woman’s passion and she dreams of cotton candy clouds instead of funnel cake storms or something like that. She probably eats a lot, i.e. she’s fat. Eh, sorry. I’ve made it a point in my new beginning as a blogger/reviewer to not make these things personal. I made it three blogs before I did though. That’s good, right? Anyfat, what the hell does a girl know about hockey? Unless you’re Kevin Smith’s wife or a big ol’ bull-dyke, probably nothing.
So this chick focuses on the positive and not the negative because the “negative will eat you up”. Oh, more eating references. She’s not fat, no. Guys, I’m still in the foreword. This is what she’s talking about and it has nothing to do with hockey or getting pucked in the ass. I think she needs a good puck.
Anyfuck, after all of that blathering, prescription-induced rambling (what mother of SIX kids isn’t on meds?), we now have our synopsis. YES. Now we’ll hear the ins and outs of hockey, right? Right…
Between the Pipes is more than just a hockey romance novel.
HAHAHAHAHahahaha I’m sorry. I never thought I’d hear that sentence. Just read it out loud and you’ll see what I mean.
What is love?
Then the author tells us what love is. It’s more than great sex, compatibility, enjoying weekend getaways, apparently. Bullshit, love isn’t anything more than that. It’s definitely not more than just a hockey romance novel.
True love is so far beyond this you can’t even begin to comprehend unless you are one of the few who have or have had true love.
The only thing I’m having trouble comprehending is that sentence. Puck me, that was bad. I think it needs a comma or two? I’m a bleak person, my writing has often been described as bleak and “French Existentialist”, but there’s been more than a few people who’ve had or have had true love. This lady has to be a chunker. Or a hockey goalie. Oh! Hockey. That’s what this book is about, remember? Where?? Where the puck is the hockey??
Two more giant paragraphs about love later, and we’re finally at the actual synopsis. This book is about a striking farm girl who’s loveable and innocent and flirty, AKA a slut. FINALLY. This girl plays hockey apparently. But…
Little did she know that her passion for hockey will threaten to steer her away from her course toward becoming a spectacular goalie and extinguish her glimmer of hope in finding absolute love.
What the puck does that sentence say?? And I knew she was a goalie, AKA fat, AKA a big ol’ bull-dyke. And how could her passion for hockey steer her away from becoming a great hockey player?? Think about that for a second. But wait, there’s more!
Next, there’s Hank, a black kid in an all white neighborhood. Man, he must really have it tough. Those all white neighborhoods are scary places, you racist. But for some reason, this black kid has a “language barrier”. What, ebonics? You racist. Holy puck, we’re not even to chapter one yet. What the puck am I doing with my life??
Chapter one starts in the present. It says so at the beginning. Then the second part is also in the present. Except the first of the chapter is a diary entry about how daddy never knocked any pucks between her pipes or something, I don’t know. Then “everybody knows Katie”. She’s a farmer’s daughter and totally not a slut. But she’s 18 now, which means the author can write all of the sex scenes she wants, the fat pervert.
Just like other parts of the preview, we’re given three long and boring paragraphs describing how quirky and unique Katie is. She was addicted to egg whites and oranges straight from the tree and she ate bugs or something gay like that. OMG so pucking quirky.
This was uniquely positive and free-spirited Katie.
OKAY. Jesus pucking Christ, you just told us that using three pucking paragraphs. We didn’t need that stupid as puck sentence too.
Then BAM, we’re “5 years prior” and Katie likes a boy. Is it Hank? Puck no, he’s black. She likes Mat With One T Hayes, who of course is a careless douche.
He led her too [sic] believe he was really into her,but [sic] she found out later he had a girlfriend and was only using Katie for her sea-doo [sic, that’s a brand name, it should be capitalized] boat.
They’re prom king and queen three years in a row. They broke up and got back together three times in five years. BO-RING. I broke up with my girlfriend and got back together three times in the FIRST year. Still no pucking mention of hockey. Or the black kid. Just a bunch of angsty preteen girl bullshit. I thought this bitch was 18?
Then the book jumps back into the past because those “5 years prior” have passed by now. Right? Puck me, this is hard to follow for a book about hockey. FINALLY! No, not hockey. Sex. Some good old fashioned teenage pucking. Katie is ready to give her virginity away to Mat With One T because she’s tired of losing sleep over it. I feel like the author is living vicariously through Katie, don’t you? It’s kind of disgusting.
Mat (With One T) attempted to chuckle but it sounded more like a cat getting stepped on.
I’m sorry, what?? A cat getting stepped on? THAT IS NOT A CHUCKLE. He’s about to ram his stick between Katie’s quivering teenage pipes, maybe it was an orgasm? Good God, this is bad.
He pulled her close and kissed her. He pressed his hardness against her. At least that’s working, he thought to himself. Funny thing was, it was her exact thought too. A testament to their two-year-old connection.
Holy puck that was creepy. The Amazon preview ends mercifully there before things really get rough. They’re teenagers when this is happening by the way. Underage pucking is fine though, right? Nobody is going to read this shit anyway.
Done in 60 Seconds 