You ever read a novella and think, Wait, this is short, but why am I kicking my feet like it’s a full-length novel? Yeah. That was King of Jokers.
The premise? Simple—and yet deliciously chaotic. Jack and Winter: besties since forever, both secretly in love, both absolutely terrible at admitting it. Enter: Winter, a shy, rule-following aspiring smut author who decides, out of the blue, that the only way to cure her writer’s block is to turn her hot best friend into her summer sex muse. Is it realistic? Mmm… maybe not. But did I pause to question it? Absolutely not. I was too busy enjoying the ride—and Jack’s, ahem, contributions to the plot.
This book was funny, flirty, and sexy... but if I’m being honest? I wanted more. The chemistry between Jack and Winter was off the damn charts. I was waiting for those open-door scenes like a Victorian widow waiting at the window for her sailor husband to return—and when Jack finally delivered? He delivered fast. Like, real fast. I actually yelled, “Damn it, Jack!” out loud. We were right there, buddy!
But steam aside, the emotional beats hit just as hard. Watching them realize they were in love—and actually ready for it—was so damn satisfying. And Winter? She was no flat FMC. Her fear of change, her anxiety about moving to a new city, that need for predictability? Relatable. I appreciated how Vyk Peters gave her room to be real. I saw pieces of myself in her, and I know I’m not the only one who will.
And Jack? Yeah. Book boyfriend material, top tier. I’d like to order one in every trope, please.
The ending was cute as hell, and honestly, this is another grand slam for the author. I’m already counting down to the next book coming in October. Vyk Peters, you’ve got me hooked—again.