Hockey Romance Books Series Novels & Stories

My hands pause on my skate for half a second before I keep untying the lace like the question doesn’t mean anything. “Madison?” Ryan says. “Yeah, you know Madison.” Another guy across the room whistles. “Everyone knows Madison.” I keep my head down. “Can’t say I remember.” Ryan laughs. “Bullshit.” Cole grins. “Walker’s little sister is a rocket. Like… dangerous rocket.” “Absolute problem,” someone else adds from the showers. “You look at her too long and Walker might actually kill you.” A defenseman walks by and chimes in, “Saw her at The Den last month. Half the bar stopped talking when she walked in.”

Both making me question everything I thought I knew about who I was fighting against — and who I was fighting for. I closed my eyes, letting the silence wrap around me. Tomorrow’s practice loomed. Victor Harlow’s calls were mounting. The team’s bets were getting bolder. Coach’s calculations kept turning. But tonight, in the dark, with messages from an unexpected rival and the man I was falling for sleeping inches away, I wondered how much longer I could keep balancing on this knife’s edge before everything finally broke. How much longer could I keep pretending this was only about hockey, when the truth was already slipping through the cracks — pulling me between two men who both wanted me in

I flipped us, driving into her hard until I spilled deep inside her with a groan, burying my face in her neck. After, we lay tangled and sweaty. She traced the tattoos on my chest while I rubbed her back. “You okay?” I asked. “Seem a little distracted.” She hesitated, then shrugged. “Mom brought over some old hockey stuff. Fan-girl crap from when I was younger. It’s embarrassing.” I smiled, pulling her closer. “Nothing embarrassing about loving the game. Or players.” I kissed her forehead. “You don’t gotta hide shit from me.” She smiled but didn’t say more. I let it go, holding her tight. Her kindness with Spencer, her smarts at work, even her little secrets—they all made me fall harder.

Riley observes, not looking up from her book but clearly following the conversation. Americus ignores our less than enthusiastic responses, her eyes sparkling with the kind of mischievous energy that usually precedes her best stories. "You know what it's really like inside a proper hockey locker room? The energy, the constant chirping, the inside jokes that build up over entire seasons? The weird rituals and superstitions that don't make sense to outsiders but are sacred law to the players?" She pauses for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying having a captive audience.

The young woman sitting by me stopped her game and watched me rant in astonishment. When I ran out of angry words, she clapped her hands in succession, and it echoed in the silence. "Well said, Princess, but I think someone lied to you, just like they lied to some of them over there," she said, pointing to a point in the room's corner. "Over there in the blue dress is Princess Kit of the Blue Brook Pack. She was given away as an alliance gift to the Lycan King and found herself as a slave here the very next day. Following her is Princess Yvette from the distant pack region of the werecats. She was told that she was to be matched with the Lycan Prince. She has not gotten over the deceit that

This is the AU version of Winter's Mate: Fated On Ice without the werewolf element! And it's book 3 of the Keepers Series—the other couples from books 1 and 2 will definitely make a cameo. I hope you like this book as much as I enjoy writing it :) I've been meaning to write a chaotic FMC, so this is it. *** 1 Rosie “You bloody cheating bastard!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, gripping Mia’s little hand tightly for support as I swallowed hard to hide my sheer nervousness.

Williams just took it. "You need to end the hockey game!" Mariam screamed, her voice cracking with pure rage. She stepped into his space, her chest heaving, pointing a manicured finger at his chest. "Stop playing hockey! It is affecting our marriage! You care more about that stupid puck and the Blackwood Alphas than your own pack. Than me!" Well, that was the excuse she gave for today's violence. Every day had its own reason. Yesterday, it was because he returned from the pack borders too late. The day before, it was because he hadn't tasted the dinner she ordered the cooks to make.

For just a second, I caught a glimpse of pain flickering across his face before it vanished behind his usual icy facade. "The wedding's next month," he said. "Nora needs a bridesmaid." Nora Hunter. The girl who had shown up out of the blue three months ago, 20 and all sunshine with her blonde hair and blue eyes, clueless about the shadows in the world. Francis had welcomed her into the mansion, showered her with jewels, and paraded her around at every high-society event. Francis kept whispering sweet nothings to me, even as he was gearing up to marry someone else.