Booktok Nhl Novels & Stories

Everyone questioned it but it had been the only rebellion I’d shown so they let it slide. I recall being happy seeing him play in my school and fucking win, beating our school a fucking five to one. Oh it made my day, seeing him warm up and skate around the ice. Except when I’d wandered away, checking through the list of things in our storage closet that night, preparing for our one-week-away school trip… I saw him. Soren Gregory—the fucking hockey god—on his knees in front of the one woman I hated the most… Anna. His on-and-off situationship everyone knew about.

Riven. Nothing. Like nothing at all. My brain spun. I moved around the space. But not with so much haste, even if I wanted to go on a rampage now, because I could already hear some of these girls whispering: “Look, it's the Alpha.” “He’s so handsome,” and all those stupid shits. I can't blame them; they had no idea what was actually going on under their noses. I walked in fast steps to the shelf where Alex had picked the book, and…

The locker room of the New York Glaciers smelled like wintergreen, expensive cologne, and male sweat. To most fans, this was the smell of victory. To Oliver Hartley, it just smelled like forty thousand dollars of student debt. Oliver adjusted the strap of his heavy massage kit. He was twenty-three years old, with messy blonde curls that refused to stay flat and bright blue eyes that usually held a spark of mischief. But today, those eyes were tired. He had graduated top of his class in nursing, but nursing didn't pay enough to clear his loans fast. Being a massage assistant for a star hockey team did.

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.

News headlines. "Love on Ice: The Volkov-Montgomery Story Leaks Early." "Chapter 10: 'The Night He Begged.'" "Fans Go Wild Over Explicit Details." Damian sat up so fast his head spun. He opened the first link. A leaked P*F. The book's cover—two hockey players silhouetted against the ice. He scrolled to Chapter 10. "The Night He Begged." The chapter started with the abandoned rink. The cold. The blood. Sebastian's voice, transcribed from their interview: "I told him to beg me to hurt him. His voice cracked when he said please."

Specifically to the pages sitting next to his keyboard – a cover page visible with what appeared to be a very muscular torso sketched in pencil. “Cole.” He reached for the pages. Too slow. “Was that a romance novel?” He slammed his laptop shut like that would somehow help. “It’s literary fiction with romantic elements.” “There was a shirtless hockey player on the cover page.” “...Research.” Sienna looked at me. I looked at Sienna. For one second – one brief, ridiculous, beautiful second – the weight of everything lifted and we were just two girls in a boy’s apartment discovering that the 6′4" redheaded goalie with the deadpan delivery was secretly writing love stories.

She saluted, and we both laughed. I walked back to the desk and picked up one of Benjamin’s files, flipping it open without interest. “Now,” I continued, my tone shifting. “Tell me everything that’s been happening online in the world of hockey.” Shula’s expression changed instantly. The softness disappeared, replaced with focus. That was why I chose her. “It’s bad,” she said bluntly. “Very bad for Canada. But neutral for the United States.” I raised a brow slightly. “Neutral for the United States? Canada and the USA are rivals, when things are bad for them, aren't things supposed to be great for us?”

“Walk in late, act like you own the place, then disappear when real responsibility is mentioned.” I glanced at him. “I didn’t disappear,” I told him calmly. “I left to pursue my dream.” “That’s the same thing!” Adrian shot back. Our mother raised her hand slightly. “Please—can we not start like this?” But no one listened. My father began. “You think hockey is a career worth building an empire on?” My jaw tightened. “It already is.” A cold laugh from Adrian. “Sports?” he said. “You’re betting your entire life on sports?”

That was why I felt comfortable enough to come out to her. My fingers tightened around the book as my brain scrambled to make sense of it. No way. Noah Carter, straight-laced hockey captain, was reading gay erotica novels? A soft sound behind me made me glance over my shoulder. He was out cold, one arm now flung over his face, his shirt riding up enough to show his mouthwatering V-line that led into his pants. Heat crept up my neck and I turned back to the shelf, knowing I couldn’t put back the book or he’d know I touched it.

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.