A Los Angeles Hockey Series Bundle – Books 1-3
Romance
1st 3 Books in the Series
Setting – California
Independently Published
Publication date ‏ : ‎ October 1, 2026
Print length ‏ : ‎ 836 pages

Synopsis

LINCOLN
He’s a two-time Stanley Cup-winning goalie, but at thirty-six, his game starts to slow. Is he aging out? His fate rests in the hands of the owner’s daughter, the powerful woman he can’t stop watching. Their forbidden love unleashes an unstoppable force on the ice, but as she chases her dream of owning the team, one exposed secret could be the final buzzer for both of their careers.

Forbidden Love, Boss’s Daughter, Sneaking Around, Aging Goalie, Dating Her Secret Crush, He Rescues Her, Future Boss

LUKA
The hottest left-winger in the league and handsome golden boy for the L.A. Quakes suffers a horrific injury during a game, making his life a breakaway to disaster. But a fiery Latina tries to drag a wounded Luka back to life. Can beauty save the beast, or is the ice tilted against them?

Enemies to Lovers, Beauty & The Beast, Tortured Hero, Curvy Heroine, Different Cultures, Stalker Ex-Boyfriend

MATTHEW
Matthew Holt uses his anger on the ice, gaining him the title of enforcer for L.A. Quakes and high minutes in the sin bin. But hooking up with a teammate’s little sister may earn him the highest penalty of all.

Sunshine/Grumpy, Teammate’s Little Sister, Sneaking Around, Haunted Hero, Sin Bin Leader, One Night Stand into Fling

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Guest Post

It’s thirty minutes until puck drop for the first home game ever for the Los Angeles Heatwaves, a new franchise of the burgeoning PWHL.  Lincoln, Matthew, and Luka make their way down to the glass behind the home team’s goal to watch warmups. (Note from the authors: if you go to a hockey game, you really want to do this. It’s a ton of fun!) They join Brian, who is already stationed himself at a prime spot to the left of the net.

“Cheetos, man, how early did you get here?” Matt grumbles at Brian, whose brow is beaded with sweat despite the chill of being so near the ice.

“Cheetos?” Lincoln screws his face up, managing to frown and smirk at the same time. “Who are you and what have you done with our potty-mouthed a-hole?”

Matt turns, cocking an eyebrow at his friend because despite the way they talk, they are friends. “Shut up. Phoebe bet me I couldn’t go one day without swearing.”

“Do we want to know what you get if you win?”

“No!” Brian barks. “We definitely do NOT want to know what you win if my sister loses this insane bet.” He shakes his head. “Only Pheebs would even try to get you to clean up your language.” Matt’s only response is a smirk that conveys enough to make Brian shudder.

“Do you really think the day we go to watch a hockey game is the best day for that?” asks Luka in his lilting Slovenian accent.

Matt shrugs. “Better than if I’m playing. And I am going to win, I‘ve got too much riding on it.”

“Why?” Lincoln asks, genuinely curious.

Now it’s Matt’s turn to shudder. “I have to go a screening of that girly docudrama this week if I lose.”

Luka laughs and slaps him on the back. “So not only do you have to watch it, but there’ll be pictures of you at the movie all over social media. And you’ll have to smile or you’ll look like an a-hole. Phoebe is deceptively devious.”

Any more discussion is disrupted when the players come out on the ice to raucous rock music. After skating around they start taking shots at the net and either by accident or on purpose let a few pucks slam into the glass wall inches away from an unsuspecting fan. The crowd squeals in delight and surprise every time. Then one smacks at and incredible velocity right where Brian’s face is. The guys howl as he jumps back in surprise and lets out a high-pitched squeal. Number 7, Alexis Barlowe, skates by and gives him a wink.

Too soon the warmups are over, and the guys take their seats on the opposite side of the ice from the home team bench. “Why aren’t we on the other side?”

Lincoln hangs his head at Luka’s warm, rich laughter as he explains, “Because Catherine demanded this big lug not be anywhere near their bench. She told me he’d either try to coach them, or embarrass them with his rude heckling if things go sideways.”

They all nodded as if to agree that does make sense.  Besides, with each of their significant others, including Brian’s adopted daughter Miley, enjoying the luxury of the owner’s box with Catherine, this way the boys could let loose and not worry about showing up in the TV shots of the bench between plays. The box is nice, but right next to the ice is where the L.A. Quakes players want to be.

The puck drops and the game explodes into action. Brian leaps to his feet, pounding on the glass wall as the Heatwaves center Sophie Gagnon wins the face off and blasts it tape to tape to Alexis’s stick. Lincoln pulls the arm of his jacket to force his butt in his seat.  “Sit down, ya putz. Have you forgotten all hockey etiquette?”

The play is intense. It’s clearly a struggle especially for Matt as he yells things like, “Ref, you gorgonzola meat-eater, are you only allowed to call penalties on L.A.?” and “Fork off, Bennet, stop riding our players into the boards you…corn husker!”

Ignoring his outbursts, Luka whistles appreciatively. “That tape to tape pass was insane.”

“And their footwork, holy shit,” Lincoln adds, but no one is more loudly effusive than Brian.

“YES! That’s my girl!” he shouts when Alexis scores.  Horrified, he spins to his teammates. “I’m allowed to say that, right? Shit, is that too sexist?”

“Honey, if we can call it a ‘boy aquarium’ I guess you can call number 7 your girl, but only if she really is yours.”

He turns to the woman behind him, a mother with two teenage boys who bear a striking enough resemblance he feels safe assuming they’re her sons. They’re wearing Heatwaves gear and stomping their feet as well. He holds up the woman’s engagement ring he’s wearing on a chain around his neck. “Yes ma’am, we made it official last year.” She starts to congratulate him when a cheer goes up over another big play, snapping his attention back to the ice.

After the game is over, the boys sit down with their beers at the team’s usual hang out, MacKays, to celebrate the Heatwaves’ historic victory. The place is packed with fans wearing both Quakes and Heatwaves jerseys as the city pours out its love for the new sports franchise. “Should we wait for the ladies?” Brian asks, twisting in his seat to see if he can spot the team yet.

Lincoln grips his shoulder. “Dude, the media is grilling them about winning their very first game as a team. They’ll be here, don’t worry. Be right back, I’m getting us some food.”

He leaves, but the Luka toasts without him. “To all the PWHL players, they are all beauties,” before quickly adding, “and I mean that in the hockey sense not, you know, in a chauvinist way.” The boys clink glasses, knowing exactly what he means.

“It was so foo young weird to see an entire game go without a tilt,” Matt comments in a mixture of awe and confusion.

“Imagine that, the ladies have figured out a way to play the game without their egos getting involved.” Then Brian lifts his glass again. “Here’s to Matthew Holt, for getting through an entire hockey game with the most bizarre array of non-cussing insults I’ve ever heard. And I grew up with Phoebe so that’s saying something. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

At that moment, Lincoln returns with a number on a metal stand and a swollen eye. “What happened to you?” Luka asks.

The big retired goalie shrugs. “I ordered a couple of pizzas. Oh, and some douche at the bar ran his mouth about the game being ‘okay for a bunch of girls’.”

Matt jumps to his feet, fists clenched. “Mot&*%$#@ker!” His friends all look at him and crack up.

“Enjoy the movie, hot shot,” Brian chortles.

The team hothead gives a rare lopsided grin as he pats Linc on the back. “Whatever. Good for you, old man. Hope you gave as good as you…” Just then, two big guys help their friend with a split lip, swollen eye, and wobbly legs out the door.  “Hey, if you hadn’t been a goalie, you might have made a decent D-man.”

About the Author

Alisa Jean is the pseudonym for award-winning authors Marla A. White and C J Bahr. They first teamed up over thirty years ago over a bottle of Zima (don’t ask) while polishing their gear for a horse show. They’ve since moved on to better beverages and writing novels.

Separately, Marla prefers to murder characters in the usual way, while C J uses paranormal means. The long-time best friends joined together as a writing team through their mutual love of  hockey. Wonder twin powers activated! Their hockey romances examine flawed characters with heart, humor, and sexy sizzle.

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