Neutral Zone

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at the ‘hockey player hides his identity’ premise—until about 20 minutes in, when Ivan’s panic over his online crush discovering he’s *just* a jock (spoiler: he’s not) had me cackling. Tim Paige sells Ivan’s insecurity without making him pitiful; his delivery walks that tightrope between self-aware and self-sabotaging. The real surprise? Callie Dalton’s narration as the love interest, whose dry, no-BS tone makes every one of her comebacks land like a slapshot. Their chemistry in dialogue scenes is electric, especially in the text exchanges, where the audio production leans into the *ping* of messages like a metronome for tension. That said, the middle act drags slightly with repetitive internal monologues about Ivan’s fear of rejection—Hunter trusts the premise so much she occasionally over-explains it. And while the steamy scenes sizzle (Paige’s growl is *chef’s kiss*), the transition from friends-to-lovers feels abrupt, like the book skips a gear. Still, the final act’s emotional payoff—particularly a scene where Ivan confronts his own fame-induced loneliness—hits harder than a board check. This isn’t just a rom-com; it’s a love letter to the messiness of being known, flaws and all. If you’ve ever swiped right then immediately regretted it, *Neutral Zone* will feel like eavesdropping on your id’s therapy session.