Good Hockey Romance Books Novels & Stories

"Touchy subject. Got it. So is it daddy issues or new boyfriend issues? Because that look on your face screams 'man trouble.'" I pressed my fingers to my temples. "Why are you here, Ryan?" "Funny you should ask." He leaned forward, elbows on the table, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "I got myself a hobby. Joined the NHL." I stared at him. Blinked. Stared some more. "I'm sorry, what?" "NHL, baby." He tapped the table twice. "Chicago Wolves. Just got called up." My brain tried to process this information and failed spectacularly.

I was carrying Damien's baby. Damien Volkov. The captain of Boston Wolves. Hockey's golden boy. One of the nation's most loved hockey stars. And I was now the mother of his child. The thought made my heart swell with joy. This news could change everything. If he found out that his child was growing inside me, maybe Damien would finally look at me. Maybe he would finally love me as his wife Maybe he would finally be proud enough to show me off to the public as NHL's Damien Volkov's wife.

Being Rache’s bestie is the best thing that ever happened to me. Her being here makes being back in my home town more bearable. Of course, I have my mother but now there is a whole new level of torture with Blake being here. First, it was because he royally pisses me off. And coming back to my hometown where I grew up, was never really on the cards for me. However, things have shifted and it’s almost high torture to be back near Blake for a different reason. He makes me burn up. My body does weird things and my core tightens every time he is close to me. And I swore when I was growing up here that I would never, ever date a hockey player. Too high maintenance and you rarely get to see them i

He added after a few beats, and I almost didn’t hear because of how almost full his mouth was. “Oh,” I literally heard Ryder’s teasing tone from here. It was kind of scary how I’d gotten so used to hearing it, actually. “So it’s about your girlfriend.” “Not really.” Clint hissed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve never really been into playing hockey from the beginning. The sport seems a bit too rough for me.” “Yes, it is rough,” Ryder admitted, “but it can’t be that bad.” “Nah, it can be that bad. I have friends who’ve broken their arms and busted their knees from a hard fall on the ice.”

Hockey is a brutally demanding game, not just the physical exertion but everything else that goes with it, hell some players have been seriously injured on the ice. My phone beeps, I have it on vibrate, it’s my sister Henri. “Hey you,” I say as I shift in my seat in the VIP area to get a better look at Alex skating below, he has the puck, it looks like he is going to take a shot. I hold my breath as Henri speaks. “I’m all good, just got the head librarian role and couldn’t wait to tell you. Mom and dad are so happy for me. And I’m seeing someone.”

The dumb ass fucker she kissed in front of the entire crowd after that friendly match two weeks ago, right in front of my whole team. I hadn't forgiven her for it. Hadn't forgiven him either, honestly, though I'd told everyone including myself that I was over it, that it barely registered anymore, that Hailey Simmons wasn't worth a single second of my headspace. Turns out that was a lie too. "Well look who it is." Marcus grinned at our table like he'd won something just by walking through the door, his squad fanning out behind him like backup dancers. "Heard you got a new coach. Some washed up NHL reject, right?"

I have one job, win this game. Mitchell skates past me, shoulder-checking me harder than necessary. “Nice punch, Hart,” he sneers. “Too bad your head’s not in the game.” I don’t look at him. I don’t react. I just keep skating. He hates that. Next shift, he tries again, a shove to my back, a slash to my stick, a muttered insult about my team. Still nothing. I’m not giving him the satisfaction. But then he says her name. “Hey, how’s your little ice princess? Lena, right? Shame, she got hurt. But maybe I can help her 'heal' up”

The phone buzzed on my kitchen counter like a bomb going off at five in the morning. I grabbed it fast, still half asleep from the night skate with Kade. The headline on the sports blog hit me like a slap shot to the chest. "EXCLUSIVE: Blurred Photos Show Two Toronto Blades Players in Steamy Alley Kiss." The pictures were grainy and dark but you could make out two guys in team hoodies, bodies close, mouths locked. My heart slammed hard. I dialed Kade right away.

So I’d left before dawn, slipping out while she slept, determined to cut her out of my life. My stick slammed a puck into the net, the impact jarring my arms. Sweat dripped down my jaw, my chest heaving. I’d come to the rink to escape, to drown her out with the burn of muscle and the sting of cold. But those eyes—those damned hazel eyes—clung to me, pulling me back to her. She was the reason my name was trending for all the wrong reasons, the reason my father wanted me off the ice and into the family’s real estate empire, married to Sophia Lang, some polished heiress I didn’t give a damn about.

The cursor blinks in the search bar. Seventy thousand dollars. That's rent, care fees, everything, with enough left to build back some of what I've spent. I played hockey for seven years. I know the game the way you know something you loved before you chose something else. When I told Kai that medicine cost me something I loved, I wasn't lying. The head coach at Ellington is a woman called Harlow, I looked her up once for no reason I wanted to examine and she runs a serious program that wins.