Hot Hockey Players Novels & Stories

His voice was low enough that only I could hear it under the noise. "You look exhausted, Captain. Starting to break already?" Something inside me cracked open. I do not fight on the ice. That is not who I am. I have played twelve seasons of professional hockey and in those twelve seasons I have received exactly two fighting majors, both of them in my rookie year when I still had something to prove. I am composed, I am controlled. I am the kind of player who smiles at the camera and taps gloves at the end of a loss and says the right things in post-game interviews. My father built that image and I had maintained it for over a decade because it was the only version of myself I was allowed to b

She gave him everything; her fortune, her loyalty and her heart. But he repaid her with betrayal. Adriana Montgomery was born with wealth and power, but she gave it all up for love. She stood by Ethan Blake, her hockey star husband, after a career-ending accident left him in a wheelchair. She was his strength, his anchor and his biggest believer. Until tragedy struck. After losing their baby due to his neglect and distrust, Adriana discovered Ethan’s darkest secret. He was cheating on her this whole time… with his doctor. Shattered, Adriana walks away, tossing divorce papers in his face. But she doesn’t just leave, she strikes back. Behind the scenes, she is ready for revenge, se

She pleaded and I huffed. "Dad, the footage?" "Shut up! Can't you see she isn't feeling well?" He snapped, then led her out of the room and I chuckled in amazement. I was beginning to enjoy this. ......... The next day was the hockey match and I made sure to ignore Donald all through classes today, heading to the men's locker room to see Griffin and get his jacket. The room seemed deserted and I was about to leave when I bumped into a huge rock, my nose almost bruising due to the impact.

Roxy This isn’t my first rodeo in a helicopter. Only this one is bigger than the ones I am used to. For a start, you can easily fit six people in the back. So, it comes as a huge surprise to me when a couple of his friends are waiting at the top of the club. Our masks are all off and I recall their faces from the hockey games and the magazine covers. How is it that hockey players are so devilishly handsome and good looking? Well, scratch that – all pro athletes seem to have this gene thing going on.

“Hockey is clearly superior.” “Hockey players skate around on knives.” “We call those skates.” “You carry sticks.” “You wear tights.” Cole immediately points at me. “They are compression pants.” “Tights.” “They are not tights.” “Tights.” Cole shakes his head. “Hockey players get punched in the face for entertainment.” “We call that passion.” “We call it assault.” I grin. “See? Football guys are soft.” Cole laughs. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” The conversation settles for a moment.

Stitched up or worse. "Hn. Could do," he rumbled. He hoped not. It was par for the course, hockey players being stitched back together on the fly and shuffled back out onto the ice, sometimes even sporting noses that had been reassigned to some other part of their face. Both he and Khyle had managed to avoid permanent disfiguring injuries this long. It would be kind of a shame to mar those good looks up now. "Sooo, you guys are pretty chummy these days." Gunner snapped to.

Sullivan, Dmitri, and Knox spread out, effectively blocking the exits and forming a wall of muscle that cut Brad off from the rest of the world. Brad looked up from his phone, his smirk widening when he saw Jax. But when his eyes drifted to me, and then to the three massive hockey players standing guard behind us, his smile faltered for a fraction of a second before his mask of pure privilege slid back into place. "Well, well, well," Brad sneered, leaning back in the booth and taking a slow sip of his scotch. "If it isn't the star goalie and his little plus-size babysitter. I see Jess handled the delivery service perfectly.

In comic sans. **ME:** Tank doesn’t do comic sans. He has standards. **SLOANE:** HIS STANDARDS INCLUDE INKING TWO PEOPLE COPULATING ONTO AN NHL PROSPECT **ME:** My favorite sports **SLOANE:** Hockey is a sport. What you are describing is a public health hazard. **ME:** It’s cardio, Winters. Highly aerobic. Good for the hips. Tank wiped my spine down with a green-soap soaked paper towel, the sting sharp enough to make my shoulder blades twitch. “Kid, if you keep typing, your left trap is gonna seize up. Who is this girl, your parole officer?”

Damien’s voice cut off abruptly. I turned around slowly. Damien stood in the doorway, his hockey gear bag slung over one shoulder, his jaw tight as his gaze shifted from his father to me. The shock in his dark eyes lasted for only a fraction of a second before hardening into pure, unadulterated fury. Damien dropped his athletic bag to the floor with a heavy thud. He marched into the room, closing the distance between us until he was towering over me, invading my personal space.

Around us, I could hear the conversation between some girls, talking about a new player. “I heard there's a new player, he's making his debut today” “Yessss” the other girl squealed with excitement. “I heard he's very hot.” I cringed at their conversation and scrolled on my phone waiting for the game to start. Leah, on the other hand, was already scouring the ice rink like her life depended on it- probably searching for Enzo. My eyes drifted to the ice rink. Players were already skating doing warm-ups, the sound of blades against ice echoed faintly. The cheerleaders were at one end performing an opening dance on ice skates before the game.