Hockey Series Books Novels & Stories

I hesitated, but succumbed anyways. “Just one,” I said, not thinking too much to it, a shot with hurt. We sat on the couch, the city lights reflecting on the river outside. Caleb poured us both a drink, handing me a glass. “To better days,” he said, clinking his glass against mine. I took a sip. The whiskey burned going down, but it warmed me from the inside. We talked for a while about hockey, about the team drama, about nothing important. Caleb was easy to talk to when he wasn’t trying too hard. He listened. He didn’t push.

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.

"For the last time, I'm not trying to commit any sort of crime. They're just freshly baked cupcakes. For you." Spencer gives me a look of disdain, but I'm not discouraged. It'd be hard to ruin my mood on a day like today. Bright morning sunlight floods through the enormous glass windows of the sleek Prime Sports office. Outside, I can just see the blue glint of the harbor, and the pops of burned orange and gold leaves on the tree lined streets. It's fall. The best time of year. Fall means hockey season. "These are definitely poisoned." Spencer leans back further in his desk chair, folding his arms across his navy Sports Bro Puffer Vest. His blond hair is gelled back in that way that screams

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

My hiking addiction has advantages of keeping my legs in tone with the perfect shape for strength and endurance. I see the hockey players and send a quick wave their way, but they turn their backs to me and I can't help but wonder if I've done something wrong or offended them somehow. Shoot, they're probably upset they have to spend their Saturday here at a school pushing books on a bunch of kids who are about as interested in reading as they would be learning to crochet with their grandmas. The kids are allowed to enter at ten o’clock am and follow through the path of tables, entertaining themselves with games and events, earning candy, fidgets, and most importantly books along the way.

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.

Saving Erin Book 1 of the Swift security series. Chapter one. Jake Swift's point of view The names jake Swift I go by the nickname of Swifty for obvious reasons and also as I like to get the job done ASAP. After leaving the army two years ago, I set up swift security; most of my employees are ex-army there, not just my friends. They are my family.

The hockey team had a big drug scandal. Then Dr. Hartley died suddenly. After the death, the scandal disappeared. Alexander always felt something was wrong. But he never asked his father questions. He just played hockey. Now, the boy he wanted, the boy who made his body burn with need, was looking for a murderer. And he suspected Alexander's family. Alexander closed his eyes. He pictured Oliver naked in the pool. He pictured Oliver panting under him. He pictured Oliver looking at him with hate. "Fuck," Alexander whispered.

“Accurate?” “Extremely,” I said, crossing my arms. “I prefer books to bruises.” Knox leaned on his stick, helmet dangling from his other hand. Sweat glistened on his temples, but he still smelled like mint gum and victory. Unfair. “Books, huh? What’s your poison? Romance? Mystery? Or are you one of those ‘I only read classics’ types?” I blinked. Was the hockey god actually making conversation? “Mostly fantasy. The kind with dragons, not… whatever this is.” I gestured at the entire rink like it had personally offended me.

Nothing about me thinking of Wade Scott was romantic. Okay, sure. I was thinking of him. I was thinking of how to dodge him until I never had to see him again. Not even his shadow. I was thinking of ways to disappear, somewhere I would never hear his name, never read it, never. The halls emptied out as five pm hit. Students left. Only athletes stayed behind. And of course, the hockey team was still on the ice, acting like practice was life or death. We passed the hockey building, and the air shifted. The sound of skates cut through everything. We paused, and I could not stop myself from looking in.