Hockey Booktok Novels & Stories

She was already dealing with enough. I had just stepped into campus when Sarah came running up to me like a storm. “Guess what,” she said, eyes wide like a child on Christmas. “We have a hockey match today. A real one. With actual college scouts and everything. And guess who’s the starting player?” I didn’t answer. I already knew. “Dominic Lakes,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “God, he’s so hot. You think he’s single?” I rolled my eyes. “Why would I care?”

Then the distance turned sharp. Now he barely looked at me. When he did, it was with that blank hockey-player stare, like I was just another face in the crowd he skated past. I turned the corner toward the library — my safe zone during lunch — and nearly collided with a broad chest wrapped in a letterman jacket. Strong hands caught my elbows to steady me. The scent hit first: clean sweat, mint gum, and something colder, like ice from the rink. Jax. Up close he looked even taller than on the ice. Dark hair still damp from morning practice, jaw tight, eyes the kind of blue that used to make me feel seen. Today they flicked over me quickly — recognition, then something unreadable.

Someone with ac‍cess to both her father's accounts and en‌o‍ugh hockey l‌eague‍ influence to make the accusa⁠t⁠ion s‍tick lon⁠g enough t⁠o end⁠ a‌ career, even after it w⁠as quietly cleared. At the bo‍ttom of the p⁠age, a name jumped out a‍t h⁠er, typed in the inv‍estigator‍'s original notes as a person of interest who‍ was neve‌r formally‌ q‍uestioned. ‘R. H‍ayes‍.’ Lena sat on the edge of h‌er bed, the page trembling in her hands, and felt t⁠he en‌tire fou⁠ndation of what she'd b‌elieved‌ for the last week crack wide open.

“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?”

##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.

Carter Blake POV Man, was I spot-on. Hockey? Yeah… this game has me completely hooked. Two weeks in, and I’m officially obsessed. I mean, come on, action, suspense, strategy, chaos, brute strength, skill, and, okay, yes… visual eye candy. It’s the full package.

Antalya's POV The crisp air bit at my cheeks, but I barely felt it. The roar of the crowd was a physical thing, vibrating through the ice beneath my skates. Across the center line, Dominic loomed, a dark mountain of intensity in his gear, his focus entirely on me. The annual pack hockey tournament had become our unlikely battleground, a place where all our pent-up passion and competition found an outlet. “Ready to lose, little wolf?” he called out, his voice a low growl that carried over the ice and went straight to my core.

Her hand in Ethan’s. Captioned: “The Nerd & The Hockey King… exposed.” And underneath Hundreds of comments are already pouring in.

I'd say, and she'd melt. One afternoon, she was in the living room, reading on the couch. I came up behind her, massaging her shoulders. "What's this one about?" "A princess and her guard. Forbidden." I leaned down, nibbling her ear. "Like us." My hands slid to her breasts, cupping them over her sweater. She dropped the book, leaning back into me. "Jake, what if someone sees?" "No one's here." I pulled her sweater up, exposing her bra. I unclasped it, letting her tits spill free, perfect handfuls with pink nipples. I pinched them, rolling until she moaned.

“You remember why you started playing, right? It wasn’t because you loved the game at first. You started because it was the only thing that made sense when everything else was falling apart.” Noah’s throat suddenly felt tight because that was true. Painfully true. Hockey had never been about dreams. At first, it had simply been ice, noise, movement, a place where he could breathe, where hospital smells and unpaid bills and fear couldn't reach him. A place where he wasn't helpless. Chase reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a worn hockey puck. Black, scuffed, edges scratched from countless practices and games. He rolled it between his fingers once, then held it out.