روايات وقصص ضمن Good Hockey Romance Books

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.

Americus puffs up with obvious pride, like she's discussing advanced degrees from prestigious universities rather than her informal education in hockey culture. I can't help but smirk slightly. "What a useful life skill for literature seminars and philosophy discussions." "It absolutely is!" Americus insists with complete conviction. "You don't understand the transferable skills involved here, Silver. Hockey locker rooms aren't just changing areas. They're kingdoms with their own complex social hierarchies and unwritten rules. And the players? They're basically knights in really expensive, extremely smelly armor." Riley actually laughs at this description, quickly covering her mouth with her

My plans for the year were already rolled out, I just hope I would get to achieve all of them. A bit sad 'cause my contract with Ian would be coming to an end in the next one month. Anyways, whatever it might be, one sure thing was I would be fine at the end. As for my new book, it was coming together beautifully. I haven't chosen a name yet but I have written close to thirty something chapters already. As I had earlier planned, a hockey romance book with a contract relationship trope and some dark sexy stuff. Here was my blurb: 'Sloane Mercer, a visual artist agrees to a contractual relationship with a hockey star, Gavin King for just three months. This no strings entanglement was supposed

“Landon!” He pulled me into a quick hug. “Missed you this summer, Tessy. My family’s lake house wasn’t the same without you.” “I know, I’m sorry. Work was brutal.” We were still chatting when a deep voice cut through the room. “Do you mind? You’re blocking the door.” Ryder King — arrogant hockey player extraordinaire — stood there looking annoyed. We quickly moved aside. He strolled past like he owned the building. “What’s he doing in this class?” I whispered.

“Have you been going around telling people we’re sleeping together?” His eyes shifted sideways. “Why would I do that?” “Then, why did some random girl from my class who looks like she would be the last person to care about something like this, say you have been confirming all the rumours about us, which doesn’t help the other rumours about me!” His face turned stone cold. “What rumours about you?” I scoffed. “Like you haven’t heard. I’m the hockey slut, I supposedly let all the players have their turn at me before I go running back to you. Ring a bell?”

Ever. I pointed to the rest of the stuff, and he started moving it all, quiet and strong. The room felt smaller with him in it, but not in a bad way. Still, my mind wouldn’t stop. What if this was a trick? What if he got tired of me and left? The tension in my chest made it hard to breathe. After a few minutes, he broke the silence. “So, you like hockey at all? Or is it just something you clean up after?”

“You might fall recklessly in love with me.” Her eyes narrow. Her jaw clenches as she strides toward me, stabbing her index finger at my chest. “Listen to me,” she hisses. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but being a hockey star in the NHL isn’t enough to make me fall for you. So get that fantasy out of your oversized head.” “Ohh,” I grin wider, loving how worked up she is. “I don’t think you’ll fall for me, Lucy. I know you will. And I’m just saving you the heartbreak of falling for someone who’ll never feel the same way.”

The media was buzzing with rumors and speculation, all pointing to a budding relationship between the hockey star and his new lover. “This Just In: Beloved Hockey Star Timothy Hayes Is In Love with Stella Fitzgerald!”

“Right now I just need to feel you. Need to know this is real and not another night of thin walls and almosts.” I arched into him, ignoring the protest in my ribs. My hands slid under his shirt, palms flat against the warm, hard planes of his abdomen. “It’s real,” I whispered. “Terrifyingly real.” We stayed like that for a long time—kissing, touching, learning each other in the middle of the empty rink where no one could see us. His hands mapped every bruise with reverent care. My fingers traced the lines of muscle he’d earned carrying this team on his back. Every touch was slow, deliberate, aching with restraint and longing.

"The hockey player you like! You're his biggest fan!" Mira immediately glared at me, her chest heaving. "But, how come you're with Marco Marten? I don't like ice hockey, but I live off oxygen and social media, so I know about him! He just broke off his engagement with that bitch Cassandra, right? So what's he doing with you now?" Mira's finger pointed straight at my pale face. "Haze, you... it can't be, can you? You're the one who ruined their engagement?"