Book About Hockey Player Romance Novels & Stories

“People always reminded me who he was. The famous player. The handsome star. The man who could date anyone.” Her fingers twisted together. “They acted like I had won something when he wanted me.” I did not interrupt. “At first, it felt romantic. Then every disagreement became proof I was ungrateful. If he cancelled plans, I needed to understand because hockey came first. If I complained, he reminded me how many women would gladly accept my place.” Anger tightened in my chest. “He said that?” “Not always directly.” “That does not make it better.” “I know that now.” She looked at me.

She was already dealing with enough. I had just stepped into campus when Sarah came running up to me like a storm. “Guess what,” she said, eyes wide like a child on Christmas. “We have a hockey match today. A real one. With actual college scouts and everything. And guess who’s the starting player?” I didn’t answer. I already knew. “Dominic Lakes,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “God, he’s so hot. You think he’s single?” I rolled my eyes. “Why would I care?”

Leia nods in agreement, her curls bouncing. As we all exchange glances, it's pretty clear that none of us are failing. I mean, clearly. We wouldn't be here if we were. Hockey is our lifeblood, our reason for getting out of bed in the morning. Failing a class would be like cutting off my own limbs. And now that I've had a chance to get to know these guys, it's obvious that we all share that same burning passion for the game. It's the one thing that unites us, even when we're at each other's throats on the ice.

He’s just focused on getting the best out of his client, Cicero, and is ready to go the extra mile to do that if he needs to. So, at that time, when the act took place, I found a way to convince him that if Cicero finds out, it will affect his career, knowing he doesn’t play with Cicero’s career. So, he agreed to keep my secret because, as we all know, Cicero is a ticking time bomb. Frank opens the door, and the faint scent of men's cologne, heat, and masculine odor permeates the air. The sight of half-naked hockey players hits me as he leads the way, walking ahead, while good-looking and well-chiseled hockey athletes stare and whistle as we pass them.

“Just your brain being stupid.” But the feelings from the dream wouldn’t leave. The way his lips felt. The way he said my name. It scared me more than any big hit on the ice. I couldn’t like Toby that way. I was Alan Voss. Hockey captain. Going to the NHL. Guys like me didn’t have dreams about other guys. I needed to prove it. To myself and to everyone. The next morning I texted Sarah, one of the girls who had been asking me out for months.

Her hand in Ethan’s. Captioned: “The Nerd & The Hockey King… exposed.” And underneath Hundreds of comments are already pouring in.

I am greeted by the players as I make way through the stench. While fumbling, to get my key in the lock, Alfie questions “Is that what you're wearing tonight to have dinner with my mom.” “You do mean dinner with you and your mom, right?” I ask hesitantly. These boys and their attempts to set me up this summer have got me riled up. Let’s just say Candy wasn’t the last puck bunny that Quickie brought by. I had the unique pleasure to see the disappointment in the eyes of Tiffany, Foxy, Bambi, just to name a few. Even Kingston “King”, my left defenseman from Russia, brought over his 60-something year old aunt in an attempt to ‘save me from the single life’. She was nice enough and damn, her

she added with a weary shake of her head. My left eyebrow twitched. Hockey? Did she just say hockey? A phantom image of Saxton smirked in the back of my mind, but I quickly crushed it. No. Stop it, Sarah. Saxton isn't the only guy in the world who plays hockey. Besides, her son was crippled. My mind raced, frantically piecing together a logical explanation to keep the panic at bay. Right. He probably got into a terrible accident, lost his legs, and because he misses his old life, he still hangs out with his former teammates. And the driving? The Callahans are billionaires. They probably bought him a custom-engineered vehicle with hand controls, or he has a personal driver.

“We will figure out the rest later. Hockey. Money. All of it. For now just let me enjoy this.” I nodded against his chest. The fear from earlier was still there but it felt smaller now. Mixed with something warmer. Hope maybe. Or the start of trust. We had a long way to go. Arguments about the future would probably happen again. Jealousy. The secret of what we were doing. The pressures of hockey life. But in this quiet morning after the shower, with his arms around me and his initial freshly marked on my skin, it felt possible. Like we could find a way to make it work without losing ourselves.

​An hour later, he was waiting for me just outside the dining hall. ​"You sure took your time," he said as he walked over. ​"Sorry," I muttered, avoiding eye contact. ​He took my hands in his, and I felt that strange warmth return. He led me toward the athlete's wing of the cafeteria, a territory I usually avoided like the plague. Ryan didn't stop until we reached the long table where the rest of the hockey team sat. ​The chatter died instantly. ​"Whoa, Cap," one of the guys, a massive defenseman named Miller, whistled low. "Since when do you do relationships? I thought you were 'married to the game.'"