Hockey Love Books Mga Nobela at Kwento

So, I slipped out of bed, bare feet pressing into the cold floor. I stopped in front of my father’s library. He never locked it—he didn’t need to. I scanned the shelves, searching for anything that could help me. Surely somewhere in this endless maze of knowledge, there had to be something about hockey. Some book that could tell me what I was missing or maybe a book to help me improve the skills I never had. While still hoping that luck shined on me, My hand hovered until I spotted it: *The Fundamentals of Ice Hockey.*

It was the stubborn drive of a hockey captain who refused to lose a game, even when the scoreboard said it was impossible. Holden lunged to his side, sliding across the wet ice. His ordinary human hand reached out and grabbed a heavy wooden hockey stick that had been left near the team bench. He gripped the taped handle with both hands, using his momentum to swing the heavy wooden stick upward with everything he had. The heavy wood connected right with the rogue's jaw with a loud, hollow crack. The rogue let out a sharp yelp, his head snapping back as he stumbled backward across the slippery surface. He crashed into the plastic boards, clutching his bleeding face in total shock. He had expec

I crashed backward into the lockers with a deafening bang, pain shooting through my spine as the metal dug in. The crowd erupted, phones started flying up, people shouting and recording. Natalie stormed in and raised her arm, clearly wanting to slap me back and I'm ready for that. "An eye for an eye, a slap for a slap." But when her hand was about to land on me, another hand caught her wrist. "Hands off, Blondie!" Asher's deep voice boomed through the chaos like a command on the ice. The star winger of the hockey team pushed through the crowd with powerful strides, his broad shoulders cutting through the sea of phones and staring faces.

There were tons of students who were reading this book in high school, it was mandatory freshman year. “What, does that shock you?” he asked with a grin. “Kind of, yes.” He rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be so blunt about it. Just because I’m a dumb jock, doesn’t mean I don’t like doing things other than playing hockey.” I hated that I felt a little bad, he did have a point. “Sorry, that isn’t what I meant,” I muttered. He pulled up a chair and sat down backward on it next to me.

“Then we need to get you out of this room before you start thinking yourself into a grave.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “There’s a hockey game tonight,” she said. “North Valley against Redwood. It’ll be loud, violent, and full of people making bad decisions. Perfect distraction.” “I know nothing about hockey,” I said, sipping coffee. “Neither do half the girls there. They go for Axel Hale.” I frowned. “Who?” Lena stared at me like I had admitted I did not know what the moon was. “Hockey captain. Richer than Midas. Gorgeous. Completely unhinged on the ice. Women love him. Men want to be him. He is the bad boy of the college. Rawr!”

My heart raced every damn time his hand held the stick firmly and when his stick hit the puck…watching my stepbrother play hockey has always been my favorite thing to watch in the world. To me, it felt like every part of me came alive with those effortless movements of him—he was the only guy who treated me right even when others tried to bully me. His messy and dark hair flowed over his face framing his sharp jawline perfectly. I couldn’t help but to feel butterflies swooning in my belly. I don't care about anyone's opinions about that because I know of one thing…everyone has their own love story. Mine just happened to be the kind of story that can never be told out loud —it is a forbidden

“It wasn’t really the sport that hooked me. It was everything around it—the goalkeeper playing his last match before retirement, the rookie who couldn’t stop crying after his debut, the kid waiting outside the stadium for an autograph like it was the most important thing in the world.” I traced the rim of my mug with my finger. “Those moments stuck with me more than the score ever did.” Dean didn’t interrupt. He just listened. “So I switched to hockey,” I added. “Because the stories were better?” “The people were.” His mouth curved slightly. “I like that answer.” “It took me four years to come up with it.” He let out a soft laugh. “What was the first game you ever covered?” “Oh…” I covered m

That's what I said two months ago when I got fired from my job as a kitchen assistant at Wendies, that's what I also said a month ago when my sister Katherine had took us out to celebrate her divorce, that's what I also said two weeks ago when my boyfriend of two years had broken up with me and left the country to pursue his education. Clearly, I was a liar. And now, here I am drinking again at a team dinner to celebrate me joining Saint Aurelius University as their new hockey coach while pursuing my masters in the grad division. “Let's go for round two!” One suggested, I looked at him and he looked fucked up real bad. The alcohol in his system made it hard for him to keep a steady posture,

WRENLEY Squeezing past a row of knees with two sodas, Tess settled into her seat. "I still don't get why you wanted to come to this.” she hands me one of the soda in her hand. "You hate sports. I mean you yourself told me and I quote “Hockey is basically an excuse for attractive idiots to launch themselves into walls. "But isn't that right?” I replied pointing to the rink. “It's just men with sticks chasing a puck," I take the soda I didn't ask for. "You wanted company. I'm being a good friend. Don't make it weird."

What exactly was so important that he had to hide it in there? Giving up on the safe, my attention shifted to a small library in the corner of the room. Unlike the dominating rows of business and law books—which made perfect sense considering he was the heir to the Vance empire—there was one bottom shelf filled with worn-out covers. They were hockey textbooks and strategy guides from when Ryder was in high school. I pulled out a thick hardcover book on the history of ice hockey with a faint smile, imagining how the ice-cold Ryder could be so obsessed with this sport since his teenage years.