Basketball Fiction Books Novels & Stories

"Come on, Finny tell me." "I see an ugly face that no one will love, I see a girl who is too tall, I see everything my mother told me growing up. That I'm never going to have a boyfriend because I play too much basketball. That I'm too much like a guy. That no one will ever love me because of it, and it only took me five years to prove my mom right."

It seems a good place to be. He steps behind me and kisses the side of my temple. "Nope. This is just the beginning. True love stories never end." END OF VOLUME FIVE: HACK This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author recognizes the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.

I perched on the lowest row of the bleachers, feeling the chill of the metal seep through my jeans, despite the gym being warm with all the energy from the players on the court. A hefty fantasy novel lay open on my lap, its pages filled with tales of dragons and destined queens...that may or may not be a Yuri romance between the queens, but I hadn’t flipped a single page in the last twenty minutes. My gaze wandered over the words but didn’t register them as I focused instead on the squeak of sneakers and the thud of the basketball, just waiting for practice to wrap up. Waiting for Frank.

—My name is Violeta, like the color— she began to laugh just like me, but I hadn't laughed at the joke she had made, but rather at the way she laughed, it was quite funny, it was a laugh that rose scandalously. —Oh! —he was surprised— it means that you are the new boy who is debuting in the basketball team. —If so—I think I'm becoming famous—why? Will you come now to see play? —I would like to, but believe me I have more important things to do—Ouch that hurt me. "Like what things are more important?" He really wanted to know. —Like, for example, I'm finishing the last book of my saga—he continued writing.

The preview copy of Vashti’s Daughter in his hand. “I’m really shocked that my ex-wife would have ever signed with this Dr. Braverman. This book is pure garbage, and the author is nothing more than a fake. I’ve checked his background and I can show you proof of his involvement with not one, but two scandals while he was playing basketball in the United States and Israel.” Pages of the sports section appeared on the screen alongside photos of Nate in his basketball uniform when he played for Syracuse University.

He was about to lean back from the hug but I didn't let him move. "Stay like this for a minute Chim." I locked him within my arms for a few long minutes. I call Travis, chim. Because, why not? "You won against That Jerk Eros." Travis exclaimed and I can't believe that I won against Eros. My bunny must be feeling sad. Not mine to be exact but still all the characters I have read in the novel are mine, I mean I read the novel in my phone, the phone is mine so are the characters in the novel.

Specifically to the pages sitting next to his keyboard – a cover page visible with what appeared to be a very muscular torso sketched in pencil. “Cole.” He reached for the pages. Too slow. “Was that a romance novel?” He slammed his laptop shut like that would somehow help. “It’s literary fiction with romantic elements.” “There was a shirtless hockey player on the cover page.” “...Research.” Sienna looked at me. I looked at Sienna. For one second – one brief, ridiculous, beautiful second – the weight of everything lifted and we were just two girls in a boy’s apartment discovering that the 6′4" redheaded goalie with the deadpan delivery was secretly writing love stories.

Chapters turned into a story. And before I could catch my breath, it was no longer a coping mechanism. It was a novel. In my story, the characters aren’t named Stacey and Noah, but anyone who truly looked could recognize us in the margins. The male lead is a basketball player with a fire in his eyes and the weight of his dreams pressing hard on his back. The female lead is older, cautious, guarding her heart like it’s glass but unable to resist the pull of something dangerous, something real.

The girls yelled in disbelief. To be continued…….book 4 loading. Thank you guys for riding this rollercoaster ride with me. I had so much fun writing this book, because of you guys. Thank you for all your support. If you have not added my f******k page please do for updates on book 4. As we wait on book 4. Please add my new book Curves and Basketball to your library and join that ride. This book is the very first book I wrote not knowing that I would be writing books 10 plus years later. The wait for book 4 won't be long you already know. Thanks for your support my Khaos Crew. We did that!

4. Gavin has finished his pancakes and is now sipping from his coffee, watching me with a neutral expression. I again push the book away from me, as if prolonged contact with it could hurt me, somehow. Which is ridiculous. It’s just a journal full of stories, that’s all. So what if Gavin’s story about the Pital girl was eerily accurate? Gavin wrote fiction for a living, he made stuff up. That’s what writers do, right? Make stuff up.