NEO, page 1
part #1 of Valencia Ice Mafia Series
NEO
A hockey romance
Valencia Ice Mafia
Lisa Lang Blakeney
Writergirl Press
LISA LANG BLAKENEY
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Copyright © 2024 Lisa Lang Blakeney.
All rights reserved.
Published by: Writergirl Press
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License Note
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review.
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The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
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This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.
To My Readers Who Love The Ice
Contents
Books By Lisa
FREE BOOK
Author Note
Introduction
Prologue
1. Violet
2. Violet
3. Violet
4. Violet
5. Neo
6. Neo
7. Neo
8. Violet
9. Violet
10. Violet
11. Violet
12. Violet
13. Kennedy
14. Kennedy
15. Violet
16. Violet
17. Violet
18. Neo
19. Violet
20. Violet
21. Violet
22. Neo
23. Neo
24. Neo
25. Neo
26. Violet
27. Violet
28. Neo
29. Neo
30. Violet
31. Violet
Epilogue
BONUS EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
Also From Lisa Lang Blakeney
Where You Can Find Me
About the Author
Books By Lisa
**Discounted Book Bundles**
Ultimate Masterson Book Bundle
Ultimate King Brothers Book Bundle
Ultimate Nighthawks Book Bundle
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The Masterson Series
Devour this addictive series about the possessive bad boy, Roman Masterson, who falls hard and fast for the girl he’s promised his family to protect.
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Masterson Unleashed
Masterson In Love
Masterson Made
Joseph Loves Juliette
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Bronx - Bronx & Karma
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Dive into this series of interconnected standalones featuring 3 alpha hot brothers and the women they lay claim to without apology.
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Indebted - Cutter & Sloan
Broken - Stone & Tiny
Promised - All King Brothers
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The Nighthawk Series
Sexy & sweet sports romances set in the professional world of football. All standalones.
Saint - Saint & Sabrina
Wolf - Cooper & Ursula
Diesel - Mason & Olivia
Jett - Jett & Adrienne
Rush - Rush & Mia
Freak - Freak & Willow
Brick - Brick & Kaya
Dak - Dak & Katrina
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Valencia Ice Mafia Series
Hot hockey romances set on the college campus of Valencia City University.
Neo - coming 2024!
The Club
(Also known as Bleu Whiskey)
Dark, age-gap, serialized romance set in the underbelly of Los Angeles.
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Author Note
I grew up in a close knit Philadelphia, Pa neighborhood with a community ice skating rink behind our homes. It is where many fantasies of me becoming the brown version of Dorothy Hamill were born:) And where I first watched boys with skates and hockey sticks take the ice with a vengeance. The Valencia Ice Mafia series is a love letter to all of those frozen dreams and icy memories.
- Lisa
Introduction
This grumpy hockey star is determined to win it all…including the nerdy new girl on campus. Only problem? She's taken.
ALERT: This is not your usual hockey romance. If you’re looking for cute skate lesson scenes at the rink and mugs of hot chocolate, then this isn’t the book for you. It’s better that you know that upfront. You’ve been warned.
University hockey god, Neo Major, is the undisputed king of the rink and head of the team’s notorious Valencia ice mafia. He’s the kind of guy who makes hearts flutter and panties drop with a single glance, but I’m determined to keep mine under lock and key.
Yet the moment he laid eyes on me behind a wall of shattered glass, I knew I was in trouble.
His pursuit of me is relentless, even though I’m taken.
My surrender to him is delicious, knowing it’s a huge mistake.
Ours is a passionate journey, where possessive desires ignite us both, but painful secrets threaten to burn our fragile connection down to the ground.
NEO is a steamy standalone hockey romance with some dark themes and a heady mix of passion, drama, and heart. It features a grumpy alpha ice captain, a busy Vegas hockey house, some very steamy moments, and a happy ending. It is the first delectable book in the frosty-hot Valencia Ice Mafia series by USA Today Bestselling author Lisa Lang Blakeney.
Prologue
Valencia City University Valencia Suns Locker Room Freshman Draft Class
Two Years Ago
Neo
“I want you to look to the left and the right of you. Each and every one of you was hand selected to become a Valencia Sun by the coaches on my staff, not because you were the top players from your high school, but because we saw something else in you.
There’s some very special people in this room.
The man next to you is your teammate, your brother. The expectations I have of you, that you should have of yourselves, are high.
“I expect grit.”
“I expect greatness.”
“I expect that every time you get out on the ice, you give everything you’ve got. More than you did in high school. More than you ever have before.”
“There should be zero distractions, and I think you know what I mean by distractions. Nothing should come between you and the ice. No partying. No girls. Nothing but ice.”
“If you do this, if you’re committed to the grind of becoming a VCU Sun, then we will win.”
“We will win a lot.”
“And winning is part of this hockey program’s DNA.”
“If you’re ready to win, I’ll see you on the ice tomorrow morning at 8am. If you’re not up for it, I will have Coach Mike help you with your university transfer paperwork.”
When Coach Dixon leaves the room, the room is eerily silent. While most of us have played hockey at a high level in high school, there’s something about the no nonsense way that Coach spoke just now that has most of us shook to our cores.
The man is a legend and commands respect from hockey players across the country. Once upon a time, VCU was a university that nobody ever heard of. Now it’s known for having one of the most successful ice hockey programs in the country.
I come from a family that lives, eats and breathes hockey. It’s in our blood. My older brother Jake and I learned to skate before we could even talk. Trained by our father, who was obsessed with the game.
Jake was the prodigy.
I was not.
But Coach Dixon saw something in me when he came to scout me in high school. Something all the other scouts didn’t see or care to see.
My drive.
He told me I’d have to work my ass off twice as hard to keep my place on his team and I will. I know that if I make my mark during my time here, I’ll have a variety of pro NHL offers to choose from, which is the dream of any player who loves the ice.
So I’ll do this for Jake and his dream deferred.
I’ll do it for Coach, the man who took a chance on me.
And more importantly, I’ll do it for myself. Because it’s all I’ve ever wanted.
And everything that I am.
Violet
Christmas Eve
The soft blue glow of twinkling lights draped around our small but mighty Christmas tree illuminates the room. Large snowflakes dance in the chilly night air, gently touching the window panes, painting a perfect Christmas picture.
“Turn it up, Mom!” I shout, our laughter echoing in the small quaint living room of our old townhome. Mom likes to keep the heat obscenely low to save money, but that’s okay, because this Christmas Eve we’re dancing.
Mom smiles and turns the volume knob. The speakers come alive with the lively beats of holiday hip hop, modern renditions of classic Christmas songs with an energetic bass. I can’t help but laugh as my mother shakes her butt to the beat against the tree.
“This is how we used to dance back in the day, Violet. Back when boys and girls actually danced together and weren’t twelve feet apart.”
“Just so we’re clear,” I giggle. “You’re dancing to Run DMC with a Christmas tree.”
“But back in the day, this Christmas tree would have been a good-looking boy in a pair of Levis and Adidas sneakers.”
“A boy like my father?” The question slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself. My father is not a topic that the two of us discuss because he’s been out of the picture since I was four-years-old. I know little about him. Just that he was my mom’s college boyfriend and, for reasons unbeknownst to me, he chose not to be a part of my life.
“Yeah, sweetie, just like him.”
Maybe because it’s Christmas and I’m feeling wistful or perhaps because I just watched an over-the-top Christmas movie, I clasp my mom’s wrist and ask her a question I’ve always wanted to know but was always too afraid to ask.
“Ma, were you in love with my father?”
The look on my mother’s face changes from jubilance to melancholy.
“Your father and I cared a lot about each other once upon a time.”
“But?”
“But we were freshmen in college, too young, and we definitely weren’t in love.”
“And how do you know when you’re in love?”
“Clearly, I’m no expert, but I believe true love is what you can lean on when everything in your life seems like it’s gone to shit. It’s nobody’s fault, but me and your dad just didn’t have that.”
“And other couples do?”
“The lucky ones.”
“I’ve never seen an example of one of those lucky ones.” I think about all the high school couples plus a few college ones I’ve seen come and go. And even though I have a guy I’m seeing right now, when I examine all the surrounding examples, it all seems like a lot of sex and heartache.
“Maybe it doesn’t happen in our family, but there are definitely couples who make it. Like really make it.”
Mom then holds the star we always put on the top of the tree, taps it to my forehead, and closes her eyes as if she’s conjuring something.
“And my Christmas wish is that you shall find genuine love one day, my child,” she says in her fake Egyptian Pharaoh voice.
“I see that someone’s been watching a rerun of The Ten Commandments again.”
She laughs and says another line from the movie in the same voice. “So let it be written, so let it be done.”
“Will you please?” I cackle. “And stop wishing silly stuff on our Christmas star. Why don’t you ask the star to help me pass my classes next semester instead?”
“You think my request is silly? Humph, you never know. I may have just broken a generational no-love curse with a ten dollar Christmas star blessing.”
A new song plays and the two of us dance around the room, grabbing ornaments from my Grandmom’s velvet-lined box, each with its own story from Christmases past. My mom’s salt and pepper colored “phony pony” as she calls it, swings along her back as she moves, contrasting with my deep brown natural curls that shine under the tree’s ambient light.
“Remember this one?” I hold up a porcelain angel. Her wings chipped at the edges.
My mom nods, a nostalgic glint in her eyes. “Your grandmother gave that to me when I was about your age. She said it was to watch over us–always.”
“Wow, these ornaments must be very powerful,” I jest as I place it at the very top of the tree, just below the star. “One will ensure I find true love and another works as a conduit of the dead.”
Mom chuckles.
“There,” I say, placing the angel on the strongest branch I can find. “Now Grandma’s watching over this Christmas, too.”
“She certainly is.”
Hours seem to fly by as I find myself in my happy place, cocooned in warmth and joy on another Christmas Eve with my mom. Presently, I’m a sophomore at a local state school ten minutes from our home, but quickly realize that moments like this may become rare once I graduate college and move out on my own.
As the clock nears midnight, both of us yawning and stretching, we finish tidying up the living room. “Bedtime,” mom announces, the fatigue clear in her voice.
I nod in agreement, my eyelids heavy. “Best Christmas Eve ever, Mom. Night.”
Mom kisses my forehead like she has hundreds of times before. “Sweet dreams, hun’.”
The house settles into its nighttime rhythm, the gentle hum of the heater finally kicking on, punctuating the quiet of the night. Upstairs, my room is awash with the soft hues of the fairy lights I’ve had hung up with wall tacks since I was eleven years old.
“We’ll have breakfast at nine. No cheating before then.”
“Ma, I’m twenty-years-old. I will not sneak a peek at my presents.”
“Or smell them or shake them?”
“Agreed,” I giggle.
When mom motions to turn off my lights, I ask her to leave them on.
“It’s Christmas.”
“You don’t pay my electric bill.”
“Ma, please?”
“Fine, see you in the morning.”
“Merry Christmas, Mom.”
“Merry Christmas.”
It takes me a while to get settled. I’m still just as excited about Christmas morning as I was when I was ten-years-old. Some things, thankfully, never change.
Just as sleep pulls me under my warm comforter, I think I hear something—a soft creak, a whisper of movement. At first I dismiss it, attributing it to our old house’s tendency to groan and moan. But then, more distinctly, comes the sound of a heavy thump.
My heart races.
That definitely wasn’t no damn Santa Claus.
Suddenly, all I can remember are awful news stories I’ve seen lately about local fires and increased home invasions in the area. Taking a deep breath, I slowly place a foot on the floor while simultaneously reaching for the phone on my nightstand.
I call 911 as I tip toe outside my door.
I don’t see any movement, just the flicker of the tree lights downstairs.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I think someone has broken into my house.”
