Hockey Romance eBook Bundle

Book 1 - In Players Break Rules, the hottest player on campus falls for his coach's daughter.

Book 2 - In Players Always Win, the son of a famous hockey player won't give up until he convinces the girl of his dreams to give him a chance.

Book 3 - In Players Break Hearts, a hotshot hockey player tries to win over the girl whose heart he broke in the past.

Book 4 - In Players Keep Score, the most talked about player on campus has one chance to make the girl he can't stop thinking about fall in love with him.

Book 5 - In Players Love Hard, the grandson of a hockey legend isn't looking for romance until his friend shows him that even players need love.

Book 6 - In The Player I Love to Hate, her brother’s best friend and famous hockey player needs place to temporary place to live, stirring up feelings from the past.

Book 7 - In The Player I Hate to Love, a famous hockey drunkenly marries his sister’s best friend in Vegas and enters into a fake relationship with her to save his reputation.

Book 8 - In The Player I Want to Keep, a rookie hockey player falls hard for his best friend, leading to unexpected complications.

Book 9 - In The Player I Want to Date, a bad boy hockey player falls hard for a single mom who just so happens to be his anger management therapist and the one person who can save his career.

Campus Kings Reading Order

Book 1 - Players Break Rules

Book 2 - Players Always Win

Book 3 - Players Break Hearts

Book 4 - Players Keep Score

Book 5 - Players Love Hard

Elite Players Reading Order

Book 1 - The Player I Love to Hate

Book 2 - The Player I Hate to Love

Book 3 - The Player I Want to Keep

Book 4 - The Player I Want to Date

The men’s locker room is sacred for a reason, and now I know why. Keeping my eyes on the floor, I use my hair to block my face and haul ass down the center aisle toward my dad’s office.

My dad has three rules.
No talking to his players.
No hanging out with his players.
No dating his players.

So why did he ask me to meet him after practice? For years, I have followed his rules and steered clear of his players… until today. I consider running out of the room, but I commit to my mission once the players see me.

Players whistle as I move past them. One guy informs me I’m in the men’s locker room—as if I need a reminder. Another jerk has the nerve to reach out and touch my leg.

I feel like I’m doing the world’s longest walk of shame. Dozens of eyes are on me. The players whisper about me under their breaths. But I wasn’t turning back once I’d stepped into the locker room.

So, here I am. Go me and my walk of shame.

I glance up for a second to look for the door that leads to my dad’s office… and I run head-first into a bare chest. Pushing out my palm, my fingers graze a wet, muscular stomach. A few inches lower, and I would have ripped the towel from his waist.

Blocked by a wall of muscle, I peek up at Preston Parker, all six feet four inches of him. Preston is even bigger close-up and hotter too. If any player were ever off-limits to me, it’s Preston.

The corner of his mouth turns up into a wicked smirk that produces an unusual reaction from me.

“Excuse me.” I shove Preston, desperate to move him to the side, but he’s a big guy. “You’re in my way.”

His fingers brush mine. “And you are in mine.”

A rush of heat shoots through my fingertips and runs up my arm. Touching Preston shouldn’t feel this good. He’s my dad’s favorite player and the best defenseman in the division. But most of all, he’s out of my league.

Like way out of it.
On another planet.

I’m a scholarship kid. He’s a wealthy athlete with the potential to go pro. We have nothing in common apart from our athleticism.

Preston touches my hand for a split second before I step back from him. “You have the wrong locker room.”

He runs his long fingers through his short, dark hair, pushing it off his forehead. Like the rest of him, it’s wet.

He smiles, and my silly heart claws its way out of my chest. Water slides down the side of his face, and I want to lick it from his tanned skin.
Focus, Bex.

“No, I don’t,” I counter. “This is the right locker room. Just shitty timing.”

He tilts his head to the side and studies my face long enough to make me self-conscious. “I know you. Right? You’re Coach Bryant’s daughter. You look different. Were you always so… tall?”

I’m five feet ten inches, which is handy when playing basketball. Preston still has six inches on me, though.

“I’ve been this tall since freshman year. And it’s Bex.”

He scratches the stubble along his angular jaw, still smirking at me. “Bex? What an unusual name.”

“Okay, Peter Preston Parker. This from the guy who’s named after Spider-Man.”

He laughs. “You’re a real smart ass, Bex Bryant.”

“So I’ve been told.”

His crooked smile and disgustingly good looks produce a strange reaction inside me. My physical response to Preston needs to fuck off. Like right now.

“Bex is short for Bexley,” I add for clarification.

Not like he cares about my name. He’s too busy staring down my basketball jersey at my boobs.

“Preston,” he says. “Not Peter. No one calls me by my first name. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

I roll my eyes at the arrogant jerk.
But I’m sure you already knew that.

Who does he think he is?

My dad will have a stroke if he sees me talking to one of his players, let alone his precious Preston. After winning the Frozen Four last year, my dad swears Preston will take them all the way again, especially after he won MVP. And from what I’ve heard, Mr. MVP has no problem doing the same with the girls on campus.

I can’t be one of them.
I will never be one of them.

A small part of me likes sneaking around with Ethan because of the risk involved. It’s exciting. He never treats me like Will’s little sister.

When I reach the shed, Ethan’s on his usual swing, staring down at his feet. My heart aches at the sight of him. He looks so depressed. I instinctively crouch in front of him and wait for him to raise his head.

Our eyes meet, the electric current flowing between us sends a chill down my spine.


“Hey,” he says. His eyes are red-rimmed and glassy.


“Hey, yourself.”

I grab his knees to stabilize myself, and Ethan clasps my wrists with his calloused hands. A brush of heat dances along my skin, making me dizzy from the simple connection between us.


I take in his manly scent, a hint of laundry detergent mixed with cloves, and stare into his green eyes. A strand of shaggy brown hair falls over his forehead, giving him an unkempt look I have come to appreciate. He’s the hottest guy in the neighborhood. Hell, Ethan Waters is the hottest man in the city. And he’s here with me, of all people.


“Why do you look so bummed?”


He shrugs, still holding onto me. “My dad. You know, the usual.”

Ethan turns his head to the side, the moonlight hitting his tanned skin just right. He releases his grip on me and touches the scar above his left eyebrow and winces, something he does all the time as if what gave him that scar still haunts him.


Ethan and his parents have issues, about what, I have no idea. He likes to make jokes about bad situations where I tend to shut down. Sometimes, my family can hear the Waters screaming at each other from the other side of the fence. Mr. Waters is an asshole of the highest degree. If Ethan as much as slacks off at hockey practice, loses a game, or gets less than an ‘A’ in school, he gets a lashing from his father. Anything less than perfect is unacceptable.


Ethan says his father is only trying to toughen him up, but I disagree. Though, I’m here to listen, not to tell Ethan what to do. That’s why our arrangement works so well. He talks about hockey, school, and his parents without any judgment from me. The only topic we never discuss is girls, and I prefer to keep it that way for my sanity. I would go crazy knowing if my crush has any interest in girls who are not me.


I get up from the crouched position in front of Ethan and sit on the swing next to him. “I’m here if you want to talk about anything.

”
He turns his head, so our eyes meet, and a hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I’d rather hear about your day. Tell me something good.”


Ethan starts all of our conversations the same way. No matter how bad of a night he’s having, he always wants to know more about me. I love that he puts me first. In fact, I love everything about Ethan. But he’s off-limits. My brother would never understand our relationship.


On occasion, my mom makes comments about the way I look at Ethan. She’s even more concerned about the way he looks at me as if I’m the only person in the entire room. School used to suck, and so did the catty girls who tormented me daily until Ethan took care of them for me.


The first time we hung out was an accident. I was crying on the swing set when Ethan came rushing outside in a fit of anger. He’d had another fight with his dad, who was piss drunk and yelling obscenities out the door. Ethan heard me sniffling back tears and wanted to know what made me cry.


He was so sweet and nothing like the rough and tough hockey player when he pulled me into his arms and let me cry against his chest. I confessed the trouble I was having with the girls at school, who never bothered me again after that night. Ethan wasn’t my older brother’s best friend anymore. No, he became so much more to me.


When I don’t respond right away, he repeats, “Tell me something good.”


“Other than being here with you?”

I blush ten shades of red from my cheeks to my chest. 
What’s wrong with me? I’m never this forward. The words fell from my lips before I could stop myself from saying them aloud.


Ethan gives me one of his boyish grins that cause my heart to skip a beat. “Just so you know, Mia, I like talking to you, too. Sometimes, I feel like you’re the only person who gets me.”