Overtime

I approached *Overtime* expecting another hockey romance with a neat happily-ever-after, but Toni Aleo delivered something far grittier and more satisfying. Jordie’s journey isn’t a triumphant comeback—it’s a halting, uncertain crawl through self-doubt and old wounds, and that’s what makes it work. Aleo avoids clichés by refusing to romanticize hockey culture; the locker room politics and media scrutiny feel authentically brutal, not just backdrop. The romance subplot is refreshingly complicated, with neither party behaving perfectly, which only makes their chemistry feel more real. My biggest critique? The middle act sags slightly under the weight of backstory, but Aleo rights the ship with a second half that’s propulsive and emotionally rich. Lucy Malone’s narration is a standout, especially in how she handles Jordie’s emotional shifts. When he’s raw and unraveling, her voice cracks just enough to underscore his vulnerability. The hockey scenes are vivid without over-explaining plays, a testament to both narrator and author. That said, the production occasionally stumbles with abrupt audio cuts during transitions, a minor but distracting hiccup in an otherwise polished performance. Ultimately, *Overtime* isn’t just a sports story—it’s a testament to the messy, nonlinear path to healing, and Malone ensures you *feel* every bruise along the way.