Hot Hockey Players Novels & Stories

So much worse. “ If you’d focused on your Alpha training like you’re supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he’d said. “ You wouldn’t be splitting your time, and I wouldn’t be asking you to give up this childish obsession.” Childish. That’s what he called my dream. Hockey wasn’t just a sport to me— it was a part of who I was. And the upcoming game next month? It wasn’t just any game. It was the game. The one I’d been waiting years to play in.

Lia settled into the bleachers, her heart racing with excitement as she watched the boys compete on the ice. Tyler stood out, gliding effortlessly across the rink with a grace that left her in awe. It was as if he had been destined to play hockey from the moment he could skate. With each swift movement, he danced around his opponents, demonstrating a skill that took both Lia and the crowd by surprise, especially when he outmaneuvered Asher, a player known to be the king of hockey in Crestwood.

“What on earth is going on? Your father and I just saw the latest article. They’re saying you’re involved with one of your patients. A famous hockey player. Is this true?” I closed my eyes for a moment, already feeling exhausted. “Yes, it’s true. His name is Ronan Hale. He’s the goalie for the New York Defenders. I was assigned as his live-in physical therapist after his injury.” My dad’s voice joined in the background, sounding equally concerned. “Live-in? Honey, this doesn’t sound right. You’ve always been so professional. Now there are pictures of you everywhere and people calling you… well, things I won’t repeat.”

Juan, with intimidation and harsh warnings, ordered me to stay in my room or leave the house within a certain period of time. That's fucking crazy. But that's what happened to me. In the hands of my crazy, overprotective brother. The legal psychopath of our family. I stuck close to Juan for the first hour, but soon he was distracted, laughing with his teammates and getting pulled into drinking games. I, on the other hand, hovered by the pool, nibbling on snacks, bored out of my mind. That’s when Travis appeared beside me, holding out a drink. “Orange juice,” he said smoothly.

Typical. I chase the puck, cutting through two defenders, the air biting my face as I sprint down the rink. Liam’s open, waiting, and I pass across—clean, perfect. He shoots. The puck ricochets off the goalie’s pad. Almost. Then it happens. Their defenseman—number 27, the same bastard who clipped me last game—slides into Liam’s legs when the puck’s long gone. It’s deliberate, dirty, and everyone sees it. Liam hits the ice hard, his helmet smacking the surface with a sound that makes my stomach twist.

My breath caught in my throat. Standing right in front of me was Hudson Monette. He was the famous, star hockey player of Team America, and a literal household name. Seeing him up close, he carried an undeniable aura of power, though a shadow of grief always seemed to linger around his sharp features. Everyone knew his story, he was the illegitimate son of Hillary Monette, the legendary hockey pro who had tragically died in a horrific car accident just four years ago.

But he wasn't making it easier as he rolled his eyes. “Second of all, you being naked in an arena seems wildly irresponsible.” “I was showering before my match. I have a fucking right to be clean!" He yelled, veins dancing on his neck. This time, I rolled my eyes. “Your match?” I snorted. “Yes,” he said, his voice turning dry. “Believe it or not, hockey players occasionally shower.” Oh wow. He was a hockey player. The blaring number 17 on his jersey, the helmet, and the ridiculously bulky shoulders didn't give him away at all.

Liam challenged, refusing to take a single step back even as Jaxson’s heavy chest pressed against his shoulder. "It's a promise," Jaxson whispered, his eyes dropping to Liam’s parted lips for a fraction of a second before hardening. He turned to his team. "Boys! Let's show the coach what happens when a tourist gets in our way. Line drill. Full speed. Don't avoid the obstacle." The "obstacle" was Liam. Before Coach Miller could even yell to stop them, five massive hockey players lined up at the opposite end of the rink. Jaxson blew his whistle, and the first player—a 220-pound defenseman—charged straight down the ice, accelerating directly toward Liam like a runaway semi-truck.

Apart from the fact that his father counted heavy stacks of billions every day, ranked as the most eligible divorced bachelor every time, topping the pages of the wealthiest in the country—his son Soren was also on a whole other high. Soren Gregory—the perfect fucking hockey god. Oh man, he was hot. You wouldn’t understand. It wasn’t performative of me saying this shit, but Soren was fucking gorgeous. Like most hockey players, Soren was six-four in height, black wavy hair always pulled into a bun, and when he let it all down… let’s leave that to your imagination. Pierced the top of his ears—not the tip. His godlike, perfectly built body had not a single scar or tattoo on it, well except behi

Roman Thorne is the invincible team leader of college hockey. He is large, aggressive and a nightmare to the media. The press, however, does not know what makes the Briarwood Ice Devils so feared. They are not just players. They are ruthless, blood-swilling offspring of the most formidable crime business in the city. Trying to keep a small scandal which is about to blow up their small business, the Thorne family appeals to the service of Sloane Mercer. She is 24 years old and a brilliant ruthless PR fixer. Her task is easy: to improve the image of the team, to work with press, and not to put Roman in the prison. But Sloane has not come to save them. She is here to ruin them. Sloa