Hockey Romance Books Novels & Stories

Lucas We step into the rink, and I’ve got my hockey stick in one hand and a head full of thoughts about Aria. Yeah, her. The girl who just told me she’s fine with being my fuck mate. Like, does she really mean that? Because if she does, damn, I’m in trouble. I can still feel her wetness on my fingers, and hear the way she moans my name. Shit. My wolf’s been growling in my head ever since. He wants her just as much as I do.

Why not just do it now? I sighed loudly and started. “Well, it's not as crazy as yours. Some of us didn't join gangs.” I said sarcastically. “You wound me.” “Yeah. Err, I used to have this boyfriend earlier in college. He was….is a hockey player too. I really liked him then. Though he felt the same way about me. It turned out that he was with me basically because of a bet. Cliche right?” I laughed at my own joke. But nothing seemed funny to Liam because his face was witching up from what I could see here.

“You’re selfish, Hau Alexander Kane.” I tilted my head. “And you’re predictable, Alice Hau.” She adjusted herself on the bed, her movements stiff. “We’ve allowed you to play hockey, but as for this sexuality and romance issue, end it.” My brows furrowed. “End what?” “This nonsense,” she said. “Whatever… phase this is. Your involvement with that Eve girl. Your behavior. All of it. You need to focus on Geneva if you want to continue hockey.” I stared at her for a second… then burst into laughter.

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.

The locker room of the New York Glaciers smelled like wintergreen, expensive cologne, and male sweat. To most fans, this was the smell of victory. To Oliver Hartley, it just smelled like forty thousand dollars of student debt. Oliver adjusted the strap of his heavy massage kit. He was twenty-three years old, with messy blonde curls that refused to stay flat and bright blue eyes that usually held a spark of mischief. But today, those eyes were tired. He had graduated top of his class in nursing, but nursing didn't pay enough to clear his loans fast. Being a massage assistant for a star hockey team did.

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> But this time, he was alone. This fracture was between him and Gunner. And they were the only two that could mend it. It ran deeper than hockey for Khyle, though. He could admit to himself at least that he genuinely wanted Gunner to respect him, to like him, to trust him. Khyle knew the bluenet was capable of being charming and friendly. Regardless of his animalistic good looks, how else would he have had so many women crawling into his bed? Gunner had regular conversations with his other teammates that didn't end in bickering or a bloodbath, and Khyle found himself wondering what it would feel like to have a kind word or a pat on the shoulder from the enforcer, or someth

“I’m offering to stand next to you.” “That’s the same thing.” “It’s not,” he says quietly. “Using is empty. Standing is intentional.” My heart pounds. “This is a bad idea,” I murmur. “Most honest things are.” Before I can answer, my phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a picture. Ryan. With her. Her hand on his chest. His smile was wide. My chest aches. “He moved on fast,” Alex says flatly. “I guess it didn't matter,” I whisper.

The sight of these four hockey giants—men who had body-checked opponents into the boards and fought through seasons of grueling violence—trying to navigate the delicate art of pocket squares and boutonnières was pure magic. Knox was currently trying to pin a yellow sunflower onto Dmitri’s lapel. Dmitri, the stoic Russian enforcer, was standing perfectly still, his massive arms hanging at his sides as if he were guarding a goal post. "It is a flower, Knox," Dmitri said in his thick, gravelly voice. "It is not a puck. Do not hit it." Jax looked up and saw me. The way his face changed—the way his expression instantly softened, shifting from playful camaraderie to a look of such profound, quiet

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.

She was the bravest person I knew, and she did not deserve to die on a dirty hockey rink. I placed my hands on her pale cheeks, feeling the terrifying chill of her skin. The legendary Alpha energy inside my veins was still screaming, pulsing like hot lava beneath my skin. It was a massive, untamed power, and I did not want it if I had to live in a world without her. If her light could save my life in the locker room, then my life force was going to save hers right now. I leaned down, closing the distance between us. I pressed my lips against her cold lips in a desperate, final kiss.