Booktok Ice Hockey Novels & Stories

"You've got six guys on the ice per team, and the whole goal is to get the puck into a net that's honestly not that big considering how much everyone loses their minds over it." "So it's basically soccer but colder and angrier." "Do not," he said, feigning deep offense, "compare hockey to soccer in my presence again." "Or what?" "Or I'll be forced to teach you about icing violations, and trust me, nobody wants that conversation." He shook his head solemnly, and I laughed again, the sound coming easier than it had in weeks.

But even with the wind roaring in my ears, Adeline's face haunted the back of my mind, the hot flare of pleasure that spread up my body when our fingers brushed as she took my pen to sign the tutor pact… That fiery look in her eyes when she told me we were not friends, those soft, plush lips I ached to ravish….Fuck! even her cute button nose… Focus! I pushed past the defense with speed, dropping my shoulder to deliver a bone-rattling check on Caleb, pinning him hard on the plexiglass as I dug the puck out from his skates. We kept at it…stopping only for grueling push-ups on the ice, then right back to full-ice scrimmages.

Sorry for stealing your blanket. I stared at his messy handwriting, and despite everything, a smile spread across my face. The captaincy rematch happened that very afternoon, and the entire school packed into the arena all over again. This time, nobody cared about skipping classes, and nobody cared about their homework. The atmosphere was bloodthirsty. Ryan skated onto the ice first in his black jersey, and the cheers from the crowd nearly blew the entire metal roof off the building. Daniel looked deeply annoyed before the referee even blew the starting whistle.

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

No one needed to know that my jaw was starting to ache from holding it. After a few minutes, a cluster of boys skated clumsily toward me. One of them puffed his chest out and declared proudly, “We wanna be hockey players!” I chuckled and bent to their level. “Hockey players, huh? That’s great. But first, you’ve got to be good on the ice. Learn the basics. Think of this as your training.” I said to them, even though I knew they really didn’t care now. They grinned, nodding eagerly, though I could tell none of them cared about figure skating. To them, hockey meant cool gear, crashing into people, cheering crowds. Figure skating? Too glittery. Too soft.

DOMINIC "A hockey team, Dominic? Seriously?" Jax stood on the balcony overlooking the yard, watching as two dozen teenagers and young adults—the Blackridge 'Howlers' hockey squad unloaded crates from the back of an ice-truck. "They’re not just kids, Jax," I said, leaning over the blueprint spread across the railing. "They’re athletes with a specialized skill set. They know how to move on ice, they know how to coordinate at high speeds, and more importantly, they have access to industrial-grade liquid nitrogen and high-tensile netting."

##Chapter 10: Cassidy Book One: Stay "This is going to be so much fun! Thanks again for coming with me tonight." Snuggling into her jacket, Brooklyn bounces excitedly on the bleacher seat as her gaze tracks the hockey players skating by the Plexiglas that surrounds the ice. "That's him, number fifty-five." A dreamy look fills her large green eyes. As she sighs, her warm breath escapes into the frigid air of the rink. I roll my eyes even though she isn't paying me the slightest bit of attention.

Only this motherfucker is like glue, he won’t leave me the damn alone. Then I see a break as one of my team members jostles him, bad practice but fuck it, this is ice hockey. We’re mean and ruthless not ballerinas on our tippy-toes. This is a rough game, jaws get broken, noses get busted. It’s the way it is. He makes the move that gives me enough leverage to skate forward driving the puck all the way. I raise my stick and aim. My heart is in my mouth. It hits the back of the net making that familiar sound we all love to hear.

My hiking addiction has advantages of keeping my legs in tone with the perfect shape for strength and endurance. I see the hockey players and send a quick wave their way, but they turn their backs to me and I can't help but wonder if I've done something wrong or offended them somehow. Shoot, they're probably upset they have to spend their Saturday here at a school pushing books on a bunch of kids who are about as interested in reading as they would be learning to crochet with their grandmas. The kids are allowed to enter at ten o’clock am and follow through the path of tables, entertaining themselves with games and events, earning candy, fidgets, and most importantly books along the way.

So, I slipped out of bed, bare feet pressing into the cold floor. I stopped in front of my father’s library. He never locked it—he didn’t need to. I scanned the shelves, searching for anything that could help me. Surely somewhere in this endless maze of knowledge, there had to be something about hockey. Some book that could tell me what I was missing or maybe a book to help me improve the skills I never had. While still hoping that luck shined on me, My hand hovered until I spotted it: *The Fundamentals of Ice Hockey.*