Hockey And Ice Skater Book Novels & Stories

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.

He had his helmet slung over his arm, his short blond hair already damp from the intense, pre-skate warm-up he had executed in the weight room. He didn't look at the empty rinks or the silent corridors. His dark amber eyes locked instantly onto Liam’s pale profile, tracking the sharp, elegant line of the skater’s jaw with an intense, unblinking fixation. "The brine lines down here are set to nineteen degrees," Jaxson continued, stepping directly into Liam’s perimeter until his broad chest protector was brushing against the skater’s shoulder. He reached out, his large, calloused hand catching the hem of the oversized hoodie, his fingers hooking into the fabric to pull Liam half an inch closer

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.

The cold temperature inside the ice skating hall makes the glass wall fog and sweats. The place is wide, big enough to accommodate hundreds of professional skaters and aspiring skaters. The ice floor makes my body chills by watching the people lean on the glass to balance themselves to avoid falling on the icy floor. The amazing part is that I do not know how to skate. It's been a while I skate, "Hello, Miss? Here is your hockey. Please enjoy your skate and be careful." The attendant looks wary over me because I divert my mind in skating than preparing myself for the gear to skate.

Riven The puck dropped again, and my stick dropped on the ice. I moved with graceful ease. I wasn’t chasing the scoreboard—sure I wanted us to win, but I was still chasing discipline. That was the game. If you should win, it was only just that you win fairly. But Sky… That idiot was playing with fire. Who could imagine that in the middle of all these people who were watching the game, right in the middle of these thousands of eyes, that stupid guy chose to use wolf-speed to play on the ice!

I throw my tee at him. The rink is cold and as soon as my skates touch the ice, I feel light as a feather. I love the cold, it’s exhilarating, it’s fresh and it’s pure. There is no better feeling, not even an orgasm to the experience I have when I step on the rink. Just me, my skates and my breath. It’s the most amazing feeling you can have. Nolan circles a little then starts doing some laps. I follow suit. We glide effortlessly, one foot in front of the other, swinging our arms gradually picking up pace.

the Boston defenseman yelled. It was a foot race now. The puck was sliding toward the corner of the Boston zone, slowing down as it hit a patch of snow near the goal line. The big defenseman, number forty-four, was retreating fast, his boots pumping hard as he tried to get his body between me and the boards. I gained ground with every stride. My skates made a sound against the ice. Crunch, crunch, crunch. As I drove my legs forward, I could feel the wind in my ears, the roar of the stadium rising to a pitch that shook my teeth.

The game started and it was rough in the way that games between alphas were always rough, physical and aggressive and completely without mercy, and within the first two minutes someone had checked me so hard into the boards that my teeth rattled and the cold metal rang through my whole body and the boy who did it skated off without looking back because he had already decided I was not worth looking back at. I pushed off the boards and got back into position and I stopped thinking about anything except the puck and where it was going and where I needed to be before it got there, and that was the thing about hockey that had always saved me, the way it emptied everything out and left only the i

Caleb smiled, “That’s exactly what I wanted, Gorgeous. I wanted to give back to the sport that gave me so much. And with your support, it became a reality.” He smiled, tilting his head slightly as I was being rewarded with his most handsome and dangerous grin. And as we stood there, watching the children glide across the ice, we knew that the rink held the power to shape futures and ignite dreams. The ice rink had become a symbol of hope, a place where children could learn, play and discover the sheer joy of hockey. And at that moment, I knew that Caleb’s efforts had been worth every ounce of dedication and sacrifice. That right now, we were both exactly where we were meant to be.

ZANE’S POV The rink was my sanctuary, the only place where the world’s noise dulled to a low hum. My skates carved the ice, each stride a desperate bid to outrun the chaos in my head. The Blizzard’s practice facility echoed with the sharp crack of pucks and the shouts of teammates, but I barely heard them. My mind was a storm—Lila Harper’s hazel eyes, her defiant mouth, the way she’d shuddered under me last night.