Books About Ice Skating Novels & Stories

The ice in front of us, the blue-grey light, the hum of the cooling system, the campus beyond the walls two hours and eleven minutes from the loudest morning it had ever had. Then I stood up. I stepped onto the ice. I skated without music and without structure and without anything required from me except to move. Long sweeping curves from one end to the other. Back edges that pressed deep into the surface and hissed with the force of them. A spin pulled tight from the outside edge, rotating fast, coming out clean. The double axel set up from the back outside edge, launched, two full rotations, landed on the right blade with the free leg extended and the arms already opening.

Anyone who had experience skating on ice or snow knew that one of the most basic safety precautions was that you should always keep out of the way of people who had already lost control! If a person could not brake on ice or snow, he would reach a very high speed that would be extremely dangerous. If a person were hit by another person who had lost control on ice or snow, the impact of the crash was no different than getting hit by a car at high speed. Furthermore, ice skating blades and snowboards were all very sharp and hard. Therefore, they could cause very serious injuries very easily. Loreen did not know what she should do at this time. Deep down, she was already mentally prepared for t

The air in the Briarwood locker room was heavy, wet soup—old sweat, the strong smell of sports tape, and the fancy cologne the guys used to cover up the rink smell. Outside my stall, the other Knights were a mix of loud voices, slamming locker doors, and high-fives. Loud rap music with heavy bass played from a speaker in the corner, shaking the floor and my feet. It was meant to be a fun time after skating, but it didn't help with the silence in my mind. “Voss! Are you planning on living in there, or are we going to the Liquid Lounge?” I didn't look up. I knew the voice. John, our goalie and my oldest friend. I could hear the steady clack-clack-clack of his skates as he finished unbuckling h

I mostly listened, trying to figure out the group dynamics while struggling with skates that seemed determined to cut off circulation to my feet. Ice skating wasn't exactly my favorite activity. I'd only done it once before at a friend's birthday party, and that had ended with me sprawled on the ice like a fallen Christmas tree. But I strapped on the torture devices they called skates and tried to look like I wasn't planning to spend the entire time death-gripping the wall. Danny, naturally, turned out to be an excellent skater. He glided across the ice like he'd been born with blades attached to his feet, executing turns and even a few small jumps that made the other women sigh appreciative

END OF BOOK 2 The Mitchell-Volkov family's story continues in Book 3: "CHAMPIONSHIP ICE" - where new challenges in New York will test everything they've built, while Franklin's legacy influences decisions from afar and unexpected opportunities arise for Emma in women's hockey development. The question isn't whether they can succeed in their new life—it's whether they can maintain their family bonds while pursuing individual dreams on the biggest stage in professional hockey.

"Niklaus, I haven't done this in years. I’m going to fall flat on my face." "Then I’ll be there to catch you," he said, winking at me. He rented the skates, and after a lot of wobbling and clutching onto his arm, we finally made it onto the ice. Niklaus, surprisingly, was a natural. He moved with the same grace on the ice that he had in the boardroom. He held both of my hands, skating backward and pulling me along. "Don't let go!" I squealed as my feet slipped.

“I’m a little out of practice.” “A little?” He smirks, lazily gliding toward me. Effortless. Like the ice bends for him. “You look like Bambi on roller skates.” Heat surges to my cheeks. “You’re supposed to be helping me.” “I am.” He flicks a puck in my direction. “Rule number one: stop whining.” The puck skitters across the ice. Instinct kicks in I catch it on my stick, handle it without thinking. For a second, it feels right. Then my balance falters, and I stumble.

"Except for all the sponsor logos underneath." "The ice is maintained colder than public rinks," Mia says. "Keeps it faster. And yes, everything is a sponsorship opportunity in professional sport." "I went ice skating once," Alice says, tilting her head at the players moving through their warm-ups, fast and loose-limbed in their full gear. "Or tried to. Is it difficult?" "You fall approximately five or six times before your body accepts what's happening." "That settles it. My back made that decision for me years ago." Alice shakes her head. "Though—speaking of which, I did mean to ask you." She turns slightly. "You went skating with your friend group a while back, didn't you? You sent a phot

The freezing air of the Horizon Center smelled like stale sweat, expensive rubber, and pure aggression. Liam Vance pulled his worn sports duffel bag tighter against his shoulder, his fingers trembling slightly inside his knit gloves. It wasn’t from the cold, Liam was a figure skater; ice was his home. It was from the sheer humiliation of why he was here.

Like a window that has been closed for a long time opening just enough to let air in. I look back down at my book. I write the words both, same problem in my margin. Underline them. When I look up again he has returned to his notes, head bent forward, dark hair falling across his forehead. His concentration is complete. Unperformed. The kind of focus that does not care whether anyone is watching because it is not for an audience. I watch him for a moment longer than I mean to. In skating, you learn to read people. Judges. Coaches. Competitors across warm-up ice. You learn to separate what people show from what they actually are, because those two things are almost never the same.