Booktok Hockey Player Mga Nobela at Kwento

His voice was low enough that only I could hear it under the noise. "You look exhausted, Captain. Starting to break already?" Something inside me cracked open. I do not fight on the ice. That is not who I am. I have played twelve seasons of professional hockey and in those twelve seasons I have received exactly two fighting majors, both of them in my rookie year when I still had something to prove. I am composed, I am controlled. I am the kind of player who smiles at the camera and taps gloves at the end of a loss and says the right things in post-game interviews. My father built that image and I had maintained it for over a decade because it was the only version of myself I was allowed to b

I let out a heavy sigh, shifting my weight to stand up, but Jessica reached out and pressed both hands against my chest, pushing me firmly back into the sofa. “You look completely dead on your feet, Lu,” she murmured, her voice softening. “How about I grab you something cold to drink before you collapse?” At the mere mention of a drink, my throat burned with a dry ache, reminding me just how little water or food I’d had since driving across the state. “Make it something cold,” I muttered, leaning my head back against the cushion. “Sure thing,” Jessica replied, flashing me a slow, deliberate wink as she stood up. She returned a moment later holding an icy bottle of beer. “Here you go, papi. Y

Damien’s voice cut off abruptly. I turned around slowly. Damien stood in the doorway, his hockey gear bag slung over one shoulder, his jaw tight as his gaze shifted from his father to me. The shock in his dark eyes lasted for only a fraction of a second before hardening into pure, unadulterated fury. Damien dropped his athletic bag to the floor with a heavy thud. He marched into the room, closing the distance between us until he was towering over me, invading my personal space.

"Well, in that case, go ahead, sunshine. If you want to tell me something dirty as hell, now's your chance." A slight flush touches her cheeks. "No." The photographer starts clicking away. "So, Jax, what do you do in your spare time?" "I play hockey." He laughs, thinking I'm joking. "No, I mean outside of hockey. People on socials love getting to know the players." I don't want anybody to get to know me. "When I'm not playing hockey, I think about hockey." The interviewer moves on. The photographer circles. "Okay, fabulous. Very nice brooding hockey player thing. But how about less 'scary goalie' vibes and more 'relaxed, smiley, enjoying life' vibes?"

"You know what, Coach? I barely know anything about you." He blinks, caught off guard by the subject change. "What?" "I know you're an ex-hockey player. That's it. You should tell me more. Your career. Your story. All of it." "I don't see how that's relevant—" "Humor me." He studies my face for a moment, then sighs. "Alright. I played college hockey at Michigan. Got drafted to the NHL—Chicago Blackhawks. Played three seasons before I tore my ACL in a game against Boston."

PUCKING THE GOALIE BOOK 1 Intro; Name: Mara Lennox Age: 22 Personality: Sharp-tongued, observant, emotionally guarded, quietly feral when she wants something Background: Mara didn’t grow up dreaming about hockey players or fantasizing about them, She grew up around them so she wasn’t some groupie. Her older brother is a defenseman on the same hockey team, injury reserve now, sidelined for the time being until cleared. So she’s seen locker rooms, the bruises, blood, the ego these hockey players have, her brother being one of them and she’s familiar with the cycle of life most hockey players adapt.

What was supposed to be an interview to gather insight and perspective on the game, almost became a battle between me and the damn captain. The problem was that the beta asshole told me that I was just a kid who took advantage of my parents' privilege and that I was a total loser on the rink. Oh one more thing, he said I was lucky to be strong because I am a werewolf. Son of a bitch! I trained very hard since childhood, going through all the stages to become the ice hockey player I am now. I even chose this sport over the family business. And I always scored the highest during my time with the national team.

"Seriously, don't let those country club snobs get to you. My life is a complete circus right now too. I'm currently hiding out here because I'm furious at my boyfriend. He's this giant, thick-skulled hockey player named Miller, and he thinks he can just ignore my texts for six hours because they're in 'heavy training lines' or whatever." My jaw literally dropped. The tissue in my hand crumpled as I stared at her in absolute, utter shock. "Wait. Miller? As in Miller, the defenseman?" Chloe paused, her coffee straw hovering near her lips as her eyes went wide. "Yeah. How do you know Miller?" "He's... he's Brayden's defensive partner on the ice," I stammered, the sheer coincidence of it making

“My name isn’t important. What matters is the opportunity I’m calling about.” That answer didn’t help. “Try again,” I said, my voice sharper. “Who are you?” “I represent a private sports performance group,” he said. “We work with injured athletes who still have strong professional potential.” The words made me pause. ‘Professional potential’. Was this the NHL in disguise trying to lure me into giving out my information? That wasn’t a phrase people used casually when they were talking about college players unless they were thinking about the next level. The scouts had been watching the Ice Hounds all season. Everyone knew it. Still, hearing someone say it so confidently made my grip tighten a

I'm still catching my breath from the game when I spot my father standing at the edge of the rink in his expensive suit, looking completely out of place among the parents in Blackwood hoodies and jeans. Our eyes meet, and he nods. Just once. But it's enough. Pride and approval. The things I've been chasing my entire life, condensed into one small gesture. At least I'm making him proud in something, even if my grades are in the toilet. Which is exactly why I need Summer to tutor me. No matter what it takes. He makes his way through the crowd, and people part for him automatically. Richard Ashford, former NHL legend, current billionaire sports agent. Everyone knows who he is.