Bewitched (Breakers Hockey #5) Read Online Elise Faber

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Breakers Hockey Series by Elise Faber

Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 72111 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)


She had a secret.
One Beth had spent her whole life running from.
But her secret had finally caught up with her, and she didn’t know whether to start running again, to leave the life she’d built in Baltimore, one she was finally happy in, surrounded by the family she’d made (meaning her friends and their significant others, and definitely not her messed-up bio family), or to stay.

To fight.
Or maybe, better yet, to run straight into Raph’s arms.
The hockey player for the Breakers was big and strong and had a wonderful family (bio and otherwise). Not to mention, his smile lit up the room and his body was…chef’s kiss.
Bonus? He wanted her and made that clear, but…he didn’t know about the secret.
And she knew, she knew that if he found out…
He’d run.
Even faster than she had.

Full Book:



He pushed his drink away, knowing that if he finished it, he would get sloppy.

He didn’t get sloppy.


He abided by a careful recipe of drinking at CeCe’s, consuming enough food, and stopping at just the right time to prevent him from getting sloppy.

A pinch of this. A dash of that. Two stirs. And ta-da!

The patented Raphael Gomez recipe to pretend his life wasn’t a shit-show.

Drown out the voices in his head.

But do it in a way that didn’t bring any intervention from his teammates—who would definitely have his back and take it upon themselves to clear up his shit, or worse, Hazel might take notice. Or take more notice. Already, sometimes the team psychologist looked at him as though she could see through the shield he’d erected.

And he couldn’t have that.

He was too busy shoring up that shield, barricading himself behind it, too busy letting the hurt and betrayal eat through every inch of him, to gnaw at his very bones.

Sighing, he threw some bills on the bar top, started to push away from the bar, ready to go home to his empty house, with the empty rooms, the doors perpetually closed.


A shiver down his spine.

Fucking hell.

Not her.

Anyone but her.

Except, even as he turned, he knew it was going to be her. Going to be…Beth.



His hands shook, fingers clenching into fists, lungs seizing.

He’d been avoiding her like the goddamned plague. Mostly because she was beautiful and loud and pushy, and he didn’t want her in his business, didn’t want any woman in his business. He’d been there, done that, got the fucking souvenir broken heart from Hurricane Monica.

Or maybe Hurricane Lying Bitch was more accurate.

Monica had lied about something so fucking big that he didn’t know how he was ever going to trust another woman.


Especially one as beautiful as Beth.

Monica had been gorgeous, impeccably dressed, her makeup always done—high maintenance at its best, and maybe that made him a dick who’d deserved what was coming to him, but he’d always liked his women a little high-maintenance.

Beth was just as gorgeous, just as put together, and she was a total ballbuster (something else that used to make him hard).

But he hadn’t been avoiding her because of the way she looked or her personality or how she wore her makeup or did her hair or dressed.

Or at least, not only those reasons.

The biggest one…the one that his eyes dropped to, so obvious it was impossible to keep his gaze on her face, was leading her charge his way.

The soft rounded curve of her belly.

The babies inside.


That sliced fucking deep.

Because he hadn’t seen that with Monica. Because she’d lied about carrying his baby. Because…she’d never been pregnant at all. He hadn’t seen her belly grow, hadn’t felt their baby move, hadn’t held his son or daughter in his arms.

How in the fuck was he grieving for a baby that had never even existed?

It didn’t make any sense.

But he was.

And it was slicing him deep inside, fucking killing him that Pru and Marcel were going to have two. Two babies that Beth was carrying for Pru because she couldn’t and—

He was a fucking asshole.

Everyone on the Breakers knew the story, knew that Pru had been attacked traumatically as a child, that she’d lost her parents and parts of her body. They all knew she had barely survived and that it was lucky she was here so they could know her.

And he…he knew that Beth was doing something wonderful by carrying Pru and Marcel’s babies.

But every time he looked at her, he felt sick to his stomach.

Unfortunately, that evening, there was nowhere to escape—not without looking like a douche, anyway. He might have douchebag thoughts and be a total asshole behind the shield, but he tried not to let that bleed out onto the people around him.

So…he waited for her to come near, and when she smiled and started to hop onto the stool next to him, he helped her up, ignoring the zing the contact brought to his fingertips.

It had been more than a year since he’d touched—yeah touched—a woman.