That Steamy Hockey Romance Series by Lili Valente – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

That Steamy Hockey Romance Series by Lili Valente – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:00:48 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png That Steamy Hockey Romance Series by Lili Valente – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 The Secret Baby Power Play (That Steamy Hockey Romance #4) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/the-secret-baread-online-power-play-that-steamy-hockey-romance-4-read-online-lili-valente Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:00:48 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/the-secret-baread-online-power-play-that-steamy-hockey-romance-4-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Funny, Sports Authors: Lili Valente Series: That Steamy Hockey Romance Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)

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Sleeping with my teammate's sister? Rookie mistake.
Getting her pregnant? Career-ending penalty.

They call me the Guru—the guy who never loses his cool, never breaks the code, and definitely doesn't knock up his best friend's little sister after one perfect, reckless night.

But judging by Beatrice's new baby bump, six months ago, I did just that.

Now she's back in New Orleans, gorgeous, glowing, and determined to do this solo. She doesn't need my money, my help, or my suddenly inconvenient feelings.

Too bad. Because I'm not the kind of man who skates away from the woman I haven't been able to stop thinking about since the moment she left.

So I show up. I prove I'm not just the guy who got her pregnant, but the friend who listens, the partner who's got her back, and the lover who knows exactly how to make her forget why she ever thought romance might be dead.

And if keeping us a secret protects her peace? Fine. I'll play along.

But secrets have a way of hitting the ice when you least expect it. And when ours does, I'll have to prove to her brother, my team, and the woman I'm falling for that I'm not just chasing a win.

I'm playing for forever

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

BEATRICE NIX

Six months ago…

My big brother’s getting married.

My wild, party-loving, only-dates-cougars-on-the-rebound-due-to-suspected-commitment-issues brother is going to marry an amazing woman and live happily ever after.

I’m so happy for him.

So, so happy!

So happy that I haven’t stopped crying since he called me to tell me that Charlotte said yes…

What’s wrong with me?

I sniff, speeding my steps down a quieter street in the French Quarter, grateful for the spring breeze on my face. I have no idea where I’m going. I just had to get away from the noise, the people. Away from all the shiny surfaces outside the bar, reflecting what a mess I am.

I love Charlotte. Seriously love her. If someone told me I had to choose between Baylor, the brother who’s had my back my since the day I was born, and this woman, who came into my life just a few months ago, I would struggle to decide where my loyalty should lie. She’s been ten toes down for me from day one, even when things with my ex got seriously ugly. She never wavered or made me feel like a burden. She simply opened her heart and her home and took me in.

Charlotte is an incredible human being who loves my brother with every bit of her big, beautiful soul, and he feels the same way. Thanks to the love they’ve found, Baylor is an even better man than he was before. There’s no doubt in my mind that their marriage will be one for the ages.

So why is there a boulder in my throat?

Am I jealous? Is that it? Deep down, am I that petty?

“If so, then you’re a horrible person,” I mutter, words slurring as I swipe at the tears still leaking from my eyes. I’m tipsier than I almost ever get, but a hurricane on an empty stomach will do that to a girl. Food was on the way to the table, but I left before I could take a single bite of my fish tacos.

Thank God.

Thank God, I stepped outside the bar to take that call. Thank God, I texted my friends an apology for bailing early when the sniffling began, and started walking. If anyone else had seen me like this, I would be even more ashamed of myself.

Seriously, what is wrong here?!

Baylor and Charlotte basically saved my life. Not only did they help me escape Kai with minimal fallout, but they also provided shelter, support, and connections to the New Orleans music community. Hell, Charlotte even sang backup on the first solo release of my career.

They did everything in their power to smooth my transition from dysfunctional coupledom to peaceful single lady life. From a member of a mid-list band to a potentially mainstream solo artist. My first single, The Labor of Leaving, is still charting months after its release, and my forthcoming solo album has been named one of the year’s most anticipated releases by several well-respected industry publications. If I don’t seriously fuck something up, I’m on the verge of being famous.

Only I never wanted to be famous.

I wanted to make amazing music, live a happy life, and find someone incredible to share it with.

And so far?

Well, so far, aside from the new album, I’ve made formulaic music, lived under the thumb of a controlling asshole, and what I know about “true love” could fit inside a thimble.

I know it’s precious.

I know it’s rare.

And I know I might never find it.

Since the split with Kai, I haven’t been able to get laid, let alone anything more. I only started dipping my toe into the dating pool a little while ago, and meeting people is next to impossible when you spend most of your time in a recording studio, but still…

I’ve been on enough dates to know that men feel as foreign to me as the opposite sex did when I was a teenager. That’s how I ended up with Kai in the first place. He was problematic, yes, even back then. But he was also the first boy who seemed to “get” what it was like to be a woman, to see me as a main character, too, not a sidekick in his dude-centered adventure. I thought maybe that was because he was older than the other boys I’d dated—twenty-one to my seventeen.

Over a decade later, the hypothesis gave me comfort on my way out the door. Maybe finding connection would be easier the second time around, now that my dating pool was full of proper adults.

But after six months of disastrous first dates, I now suspect most men are simply dumb.

No, not dumb. That isn’t quite right.

They’re not dumb, they’re…willfully ignorant. Most haven’t bothered to educate themselves on what it’s like to navigate the world as a woman because they don’t have to.

They don’t have to be afraid of walking outside at night, or losing control of their reproductive systems, or being told they’re inherently inferior because they were born with girl parts. So, they don’t care.

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Advertisement The Penalty Box Affair (That Steamy Hockey Romance #3) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/the-penalty-box-affair-that-steamy-hockey-romance-3-read-online-lili-valente Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:20:15 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-penalty-box-affair-that-steamy-hockey-romance-3-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lili Valente Series: That Steamy Hockey Romance Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >98

What do you do when the hot younger hockey player you swore you’d stop banging is the perfect revenge date to your ex’s wedding?
Pretend to be a couple. Obviously.

I was going to take the high road. I really was. But Nix needs image rehab before management benches him, and I need a plus-one who proves I’ve moved on to bigger and better things. (Especially the bigger part…)

Besides, we’re adults. We can pretend to be hot for each other without actually getting it on in the great outdoors.

Again. Right before one of my employees strolls through the garden gate and catches us on the back porch…

Oops.
Okay, so mistakes were made.
And made again. And again.

But it’s hard to remember why this is a bad idea when Nix is so…perfect. So funny, smart, and protective. So hot and hot for me in a way that makes a girl think she gave up on love a little too soon.

I’m two fake kisses away from asking him to be the real thing when a family emergency blows our plan to pieces. Suddenly, it isn’t just our hearts on the line.

His career hangs in the balance, my life is under a microscope, and one wrong step could mean we're both in the penalty box for good

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

One

Baylor Nix

Einstein once said, “Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity…and I’m not sure about the universe.”

And I’ve just proven him right.

By being stupid.

Really fucking stupid…

The conference room door closes behind me with a sharp click that might as well be the sound of my coffin lid snapping shut.

Why couldn’t I just apologize? Beg for forgiveness? Be a good “team player” and kiss whoever’s ass needed to be kissed to get my own ass out of trouble?

I don’t know.

I’m not built that way, I guess. I was built stubborn, determined, with a strong sense of justice, and an even stronger aversion to saying I was wrong when I know I’m right.

I stand in the hallway, breathing in the scent of industrial cleaner and the tang of ammonia from the rink down the hall. The air feels too thin, like I’ve just skated five overtime periods without a breather, and my dress shirt is sticking to my back.

Turns out being repeatedly reminded that I’m one more “incident” away from becoming a cautionary tale makes me sweat. A lot. But hey, at least I’m not out of a job.

No official suspension.

The words should be a relief, but they’re not.

I was also gifted/cursed with the ability to read between the lines and hear the subtext in every polite conversation. What they really said was—We’re watching you, bucko. One more slip, one more outburst, one more toe out of line, and you’re done.

Keely’s voice still echoes in my head, that careful PR tone she uses when delivering bad news wrapped in corporate speak, “I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But the optics are problematic, Baylor. Regardless of intent.”

And then Coach Merwood chimed in, his dwarf-lord beard bristling as he rumbled, “Get your head on straight, son. We don’t live in a society that condones vigilante justice. You’re putting the entire team’s reputation at risk. Control your temper, or you won’t be here to defend anyone.”

The way they’d all looked at me, like I’m a liability instead of a player who’s logged more ice time than half the defensive roster.

My throat goes tight, and a low-grade nausea roils through my gut that has nothing to do with the stale coffee I slugged down at the start of the meeting.

Six days until the season opener. Six days to be invisible, angelic, the picture of restraint. Six days for the press to hopefully forget that I was the guy who put that wife-beater in the hospital because I couldn’t walk away from a woman getting her face rearranged behind a club on Bourbon Street…

Management made it abundantly clear that my “history” is a problem. Three fights in two seasons, the suspension I took last year for going after the enforcer who cheap-shotted Grammercy, and now…this.

Never mind that the bastard I beat deserved every bruise.

Never mind that his wife just sent me a thank-you email with a photo from her new apartment, where she feels free and safe for the first time in nearly a decade.

I’m still the problem.

Aristotle said a man should pursue virtue for virtue’s sake, but he never had to answer to team owners worried about their brand image.

I start down the hall, determined to be gone before management finishes their meeting.

The Voodoo’s side of the arena is clearing out fast, my teammates headed home for the weekend after a grueling final week of training camp. I can’t wait to join them…as soon as I change into something that doesn’t make me feel like I’m suffocating. Grammercy and Blue said slacks and a dress shirt would show management that I gave a shit about their lecture.

I give a shit, all right.

Just not in the way they want.

I want to do the right thing, not the politically correct thing—and not always the legal thing, if I’m being completely honest—and that’s…

Well, that’s my cross to bear, I guess.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I tug it out, glancing down to see a text from Parker—Had to head out early to meet Makena. Hope management didn’t bring down the hammer too hard. Text me later, okay? And don’t forget about the party tomorrow night. We’re going to have so much fucking food, dude. We need everyone to show up hungry and eat their share. You’ll be there, right? For sure?

I slide my cell back into my pocket with a sigh.

As if I could forget about his engagement party, even if I wanted to. No, his party has been top-of-mind since the day the invitation popped into my inbox.

Because his party is being thrown by none other than Charlotte Delaney.

Charlotte…

As I round the corner toward the locker room, the memories begin to flicker on my mental screen, the way they always do. It’s been three months since that night in June, and simply thinking her name is still enough to make my chest ache and my dick thicker.

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Advertisement The No Touch Roommate Rule (That Steamy Hockey Romance #2) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/the-no-touch-roommate-rule-that-steamy-hockey-romance-2-read-online-lili-valente Sun, 12 Oct 2025 20:52:33 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-no-touch-roommate-rule-that-steamy-hockey-romance-2-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Sports Authors: Lili Valente Series: That Steamy Hockey Romance Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >99

What to do when the sexy hockey player you’ve been avoiding suddenly becomes your roommate? Make “no touch” rules. Obviously.

I’ve spent months dodging Leo Parker’s attempts to score a second date. Yes, he’s gorgeous. Yes, he plays for the Louisiana Voodoo. Yes, he kisses like it’s an Olympic sport. But he’s also six years younger than I am and—plot twist—I used to babysit him when he was twelve.
But when a hurricane destroys my restaurant (and the storage closet I’ve been sleeping in), Parker swoops in with the perfect solution. Move in with him. Temporarily. With RULES:

No sex
Clothes stay ON in common areas
Hugging, but only before 5pm

But living with Parker means watching him do everything without a shirt on. Hearing him moan over my cooking like it’s foreplay. And discovering he’s not just a pretty face—he’s funny, generous, and seems to like me…just the way I am.
Soon we’re roadtripping to food festivals, winning crawfish mating-call contests (don’t ask), and breaking every rule. Repeatedly. I’m starting to think this sweet, sexy man might be My One.

There’s just one problem: When it comes to men, I’m cursed. And a blast from the past is about to remind us why falling for each other might be the worst rule we’ve broken yet

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter

One

PARKER

Ihate weddings.

And love.

And tuxedos.

Okay, fine! I love weddings and love, and I’m honored to be one of my best friend’s groomsmen. I’m just cranky about romance at the moment.

And I look incredible in a tux, but fuck…couldn’t Grammercy and Elly have had this renewal ceremony indoors in the air conditioning instead of out in Maison Monteleone’s courtyard?

I get that this is where they met, yada yada, but we’re only two days into June, and Louisiana is already as hot as my big, saggy balls after a five-mile run.

I’m probably tremendously fertile and will make super-talented, good-looking babies someday, but my balls really are too much.

At the moment, they’re flat-out swampy, right along with the rest of me.

Sweat pools at the base of my spine, soaking through my dress shirt and into the tux jacket that feels like a torture device in this heat. Even with fans set up to stir the air, the humidity is intense.

But of course, Blue isn’t sweating. Not a fucking drop. The Voodoo’s star defender is built like a refrigerator and stays just as cool. He’s probably meditating the perspiration away. Or just willing himself not to sweat with the force of his Yoda vibes or something.

“Why aren’t you sweating?” I mutter. “Are you an alien?”

“Stop fidgeting,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips.

“I’m not fidgeting,” I whisper, tugging at my bow tie. “I’m suffocating. There’s a difference.”

I’m also suffering.

Because right there, across the aisle, the woman I’ve been dying to share air with since October is completely ignoring me. Probably because I’m sweaty and gross, but I can’t help it! I’ve always been a sweater. Allegedly, my mother took me to a dermatologist when I was just four months old. She was that concerned about how sweaty my feet were, especially considering I didn’t wear shoes at the time.

But I have talcum powder and very good deodorant.

Even for my balls.

Ball deodorant is a thing these days.

When this drip fest is over, I will still smell fresh as a fucking daisy—a fact I could explain to Makena, if she would speak to me.

Or look at me.

Or acknowledge my existence in any way.

I narrow my eyes across the aisle, willing her to glance my way, to see that I’m still hot and kissable even when drenched in sweat, but she’s locked in on the happy couple.

I follow her gaze to see Grammercy beaming down at Elly like she hung the moon and discovered the cure for cancer, all while giving him the best blow job of his life. Beautiful, sure, but so over the top it’s enough to make a chronically single man set things on fire.

And isn’t a vow renewal a little much? Considering they’ve only been married eight months? But since their actual wedding was just them and the justice of the peace, they wanted to celebrate with friends and family. Hence, a hundred of their nearest and dearest packed into this courtyard, sweating through formal wear, while Elly and Grammercy stare at each other like there’s no one else in the room.

“Eloise Thibodeaux Graves,” Grammercy says, his voice carrying easily through the hushed crowd. “How to tell you what you mean to me? I worked for hours on these vows, but couldn’t find the perfect thing to express how grateful I am to have you as my best friend, my partner, and my girl. Not in English anyway, so I’ll just say… C’est toi. Toujours toi. La vérité de ma vie, et la gardienne de mon cœur.”

Fuck.

French.

He always has to whip out the French and make the rest of us seem like idiot cavemen with no game.

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Advertisement The Fake Husband Play (That Steamy Hockey Romance #1) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/the-fake-husband-play-that-steamy-hockey-romance-1-read-online-lili-valente Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:25:31 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-fake-husband-play-that-steamy-hockey-romance-1-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lili Valente Series: That Steamy Hockey Romance Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >109

What’s a girl to do when her longtime hockey crush offers her a marriage of convenience?
Say YES. Obviously.

I’ve spent three years lusting after Grammercy Graves on my (supposedly anonymous) hockey romance podcast—breaking down his stats, his plays, that panty-melting Cajun accent...

The entire internet knows he’s my dream guy. What they don’t know? I’m a broke single mom who just lost her job—and the health insurance my daughter needs.

When Grammercy finds me crying in a supply closet at a team party, he offers the wildest
Fake marriage. Real benefits. One year.
No strings. No S-E-X. Just shared coverage and a room with my name on it.

But he’s so good with my daughter. So generous, so funny, so kind.
And when it’s just the two of us? He treats me like I’m someone special.

Like I’m his.

Soon, every kiss for the cameras turns into a kiss we can’t stop, and it’s getting harder and harder to remember this is all pretend.

There’s just one secret that could ruin it all—my podcast, the one that proves I wasn’t telling the whole story when we first “met.”

When he finds out, will he walk away…
Or make my wildest fangirl fantasies come true?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW…

What’s it like to have your entire world turned upside down with a single glance?

Let me tell you.

It’s a hot night in October, magic-hour light drenching Magazine Street like it wants to lick every inch of New Orleans until it’s stickier than it is already. I’m stopped at a red light when I see her—dark hair, red dress, cardboard box in her arms. She’s coming out of an office building, looking tired in that bone-deep way that makes you want to ask a person who hurt them.

Then punch whoever it was in the face…

I would punch people for this woman, I realize. That’s instantly a given, though I’m known in the league for being a lover, not a fighter.

But for her?

Fuck, she’s so beautiful.

So sad.

So…mine?

It’s a crazy thought. Absolutely out of bounds.

But I swear, something happens to me in that moment. It’s not love. I’m not that off my rocker, there are no stalker-flavored Netflix shows in my future, thank you very much. But…it’s something intense. Real. A bone-deep recognition.

Like every cell in my body suddenly wakes up and shouts, “It’s you. Finally.”

Then, cars honk behind me.

The light’s turned green.

I pull away, but inside, I’m already making plans. I drive through this neighborhood every day. I know that building. I can find her again.

I have to find her again.

For the next few days, I’m a man possessed. I drive by that office complex every day. Sometimes twice a day. I tell myself I’m just taking different routes to practice, but I’m full of shit.

At night, I dream about her. Brown eyes full of secrets. The elegant curve of her neck. The way she looked carrying that box like it held the weight of the world. I wake up with my heart beating fast, wondering if I’ll ever see her again.

Surely, I wouldn’t be so stuck on this woman if there weren’t a reason for it. Even before that night at the party, something in me is already insisting that Fate has something to do with all this.

Then, in the middle of schmoozing sponsors at the first big event of the NHL season, I hear crying from a supply closet.

And when I open the door…there she is.

Magazine Street Girl, with mascara running down her cheeks.

“It’s you,” she whispers, the same words that ran through my head the first time I saw her, and that does something to me that I can’t fully explain.

I thought I had life all figured out. I had the world on a string—Stanley Cup ring in my first pro season, top-tier player in a brand-new team, back in my hometown, ready to build a legacy. Then Elly smiled just for me, and suddenly it was her. Just her and the baby girl she’d die for.

Just this family I knew—knew—was supposed to be mine.

You think I’m crazy? You think love only happens the way you expect it to happen? You want magic, but not too much magic, not the kind that forces you to rethink everything you thought you knew to be true?

You think a man can’t see forever in a stranger’s tired eyes?

That’s okay. I wasn’t a believer, either.

Not until Elly.

Now, I’d do anything for this woman.

And before this is over, I’ll prove it.

I’m not giving up on her, on us, no matter what the world throws our way.

Chapter

One

ELOISE “ELLY” THIBODEAUX

Excerpt from the LOVE ON ICE PODCAST

- EPISODE 127 Red Flags and Power Plays,

Recorded in October.

(Theme music fades.)

Welcome back to the Love on Ice podcast, where we break down the latest NHL gossip on and off the rink. I’m your host, Luvvy Puck, coming to you from…my bathtub. (The acoustics are great in here, don’t judge.)

(Sound of shower curtain rustling, followed by a quiet laugh.)

Tonight, we have red flags, green flags, and what happens when a player you love goes viral for all the wrong reasons.

I’m looking at you, Trevor Morrison of the Seattle Storm, who apparently thought taking a woman to Boobie Bob’s Lobster Shack was appropriate first-date behavior.

Lovies, I’m no prude. I’m from New Orleans, for goodness’ sake—we have a proud tradition of flashing our tatas for Mardi Gras treats.

Still, I feel confident saying that most women don’t want boobies in their face on a first date. But Trevor’s fatal mistake came when he asked this poor girl to split the bill even though she’s in nursing school. On scholarship.

Which she shared during the date. But maybe he was too distracted by all the “lobster” to remember…

Either way, your fifty-fifty play took this from a red flag to a full-fledged dating penalty, Trevor. Do better.

[Womp womp, penalty sound effect.]

Moving on to green flags! And our favorite Engagin’ Cajun, star of the New Orleans’ Voodoo expansion team, Grammercy Graves…

[Dreamy sigh sound effect.]

Picture this: Our boy, a microphone, and a bilingual reading of The Day the Crayons Quit at the Children’s Literacy Fair.

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