Books About Hockey Players Novels & Stories

There were so many interesting informations but my focus had been on pack politics and of course hockey. I found out something interesting, Alpha Killian was a hockey captain of the Frozen Blades. An all male hockey championship team.Finally, I found out something we have in common. I searched the whole internet for any information about Frozen Blades, there were enough articles about them, especially about their sexy stunning captain, i rolled my eyes at that. I am sure he was popular with the girls, that jerk! I was about switching off the internet when a notification popped up on the screen, a newsletter I had subscribed to,

He went back to the rink with everything he could ever need. His bag dug into his shoulder as he crossed the parking lot, heavier than it had any right to be. Inside it was his notebook, dog‑eared and already half‑full, his phone, a small digital recorder, spare batteries, a compact camera, his press credentials, a folded copy of the practice schedule, printed player profiles, and a stack of interview questions he’d rewritten three times and still didn’t trust. He’d highlighted the important bits. Circled names. Written hockey terms in the margins like spells he could cast if things went wrong.

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?”

Maybe hockey wasn’t for me, like coach said. This proves it. Perhaps I would be better off trying something else. I could only imagine what I would say to father, how I would break the news to him that I didn’t make it to the team. I know he would be disappointed about it, yet he won’t show it, he would try everything to cheer me up. Telling me that there are other sports I can try out, I just wanted to do something that would make him proud, he gave up his dream of playing hockey for me, I thought that if I followed his path then he would not feel guilty anymore for ruining mom’s life.

My breath caught in my throat. Standing right in front of me was Hudson Monette. He was the famous, star hockey player of Team America, and a literal household name. Seeing him up close, he carried an undeniable aura of power, though a shadow of grief always seemed to linger around his sharp features. Everyone knew his story, he was the illegitimate son of Hillary Monette, the legendary hockey pro who had tragically died in a horrific car accident just four years ago.

I thought I was here because of my spices, because of my hard work in the hot kitchen, but. The cold air of the ice rink pierced my pores, but the blood in my veins felt boiling. I didn't remember how I got there. I just knew I had to see him. In front of me, dozens of hockey players in full uniform were hurtling at high speed. A black puck shot straight up, hitting the wall with a deafening thud. "Woah! Chef! Get out of there!" someone shouted from the bench. "When did she get in there?"

Roman Thorne is the invincible team leader of college hockey. He is large, aggressive and a nightmare to the media. The press, however, does not know what makes the Briarwood Ice Devils so feared. They are not just players. They are ruthless, blood-swilling offspring of the most formidable crime business in the city. Trying to keep a small scandal which is about to blow up their small business, the Thorne family appeals to the service of Sloane Mercer. She is 24 years old and a brilliant ruthless PR fixer. Her task is easy: to improve the image of the team, to work with press, and not to put Roman in the prison. But Sloane has not come to save them. She is here to ruin them. Sloa

Timothy shot me a sidelong glance, a playful glint in his eyes. "Surprisingly, yes," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "We talked about my hockey career choices, my plans for the future. And, of course, he was quite intrigued by my community outreach efforts." I leaned back in the seat, absorbing his words. "Community outreach? That must have been about the dog washing fundraiser," I mused. Timothy grinned, his eyes lighting up with a mix of pride and amusement. "He was particularly interested in that. I guess the idea of a professional hockey player getting his hands dirty washing

“There it is.” I looked at her confused. “What?” “The hockey voice.” My stomach tightened in an instant, and I immediately looked away. But I could still feel Harper leaning closer. “You know,” she said quietly, “ it’s nice hearing you talk about hockey again.” Suddenly the room felt smaller, and I found myself staring at the wall—at the photos I’d never bothered taking down, at the medals hidden inside a drawer. At a version of myself I didn’t want to speak about until God knows when.

" he said, but I ignored him, heading to the exit. “He's every girl's dream hockey player in the game, gliding across the ice to everyone," I paused for a minute. "When I see him on the pitch, in the locker room, or in the bathroom, my heart shivers like a thousand flies. My body becomes so tense—to have crazy sex with him," he read aloud. I froze. The MacBook is still unlocked. I forgot to put those passwords in. "I didn't know you were such a poet," he smiled, then continued.