Ice Hockey Book Novels & Stories

And somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about hockey, I found myself leaning forward every single time he touched the puck. Every time he got close to the goal, I found myself holding my breath. My stomach dropped whenever someone checked him. For some reason, I cared enough about Knox not to want him to get hurt. Which was ridiculous. I hated him…. right? Yet somehow, I barely noticed Mike the entire game. Every time my eyes wandered across the ice, they found Knox. The girls behind me weren’t helping. “He’s so hot.” “Look at his arms.” “I would let that man ruin my life.”

Dominic’s POV I swear to God, she’s gonna kill me one of these days. I don’t even know what the hell’s wrong with me anymore. I’ve never been this sloppy. Never. Hockey’s the one place I don’t screw up. It’s the one place I can just move and hit and breathe and not think about anything. But ever since she started showing up… hell, even before that, even before she knew my name… she’s been in my head like some damn parasite I can’t get rid of.

What exactly was so important that he had to hide it in there? Giving up on the safe, my attention shifted to a small library in the corner of the room. Unlike the dominating rows of business and law books—which made perfect sense considering he was the heir to the Vance empire—there was one bottom shelf filled with worn-out covers. They were hockey textbooks and strategy guides from when Ryder was in high school. I pulled out a thick hardcover book on the history of ice hockey with a faint smile, imagining how the ice-cold Ryder could be so obsessed with this sport since his teenage years.

He took a few more steps before he noticed, then turned back. "I played hockey," I said. "Not professionally. But I played from the time I was eight until I was sixteen. I captained my school team for two years." I paused. "The reason I stopped wasn't because I lost interest. It was because there was no path forward. No infrastructure. No one who knew what to do with a girl who was serious about the sport. I just hit a wall and there was nothing on the other side of it." He was watching me now.

These guys sure are playing dirty tonight. We’re two down, will we be able to recover from it in just ten minutes. I mean in the world of ice hockey anything can happen, but it feels so far away to get the puck driving down into the back of the net. Finally, one of our guys gets the puck, he slices it down backwards towards me. Hawk intercepts, pushes the douchebag to his left away and moves the puck forward. He gives me the nod, I skate as hard as my burning legs will allow me and take the pass, stopping the puck then hitting down to the net. I wait with abated breath and watch as it goes to the back of the net, putting the goalie on his ass trying to save it. “Yes.” I roar raising both my

“You're going to play like an idiot, that's what I want, you feel me? I want you to miss the passes like a blind goat, fumble the puck, and make sure Northcott loses by at least four points. I want your team completely humiliated on live television. Is that clear?” “No…” I breathed, continuously swaying my head from side to side, my face edged with a right frown. “No, I can't do that. Hockey is everything to my guys. We worked so hard for this. I can't... can't just betray my team. like that."

Game night Friday. The Black Ice team of Michigan rolled into Providence early. The arena was loud enough to shake the glass. He could feel it beneath his skates as he stepped onto the ice for warmups. Division One hockey always drew attention, but conference games brought something different. They had come to Providence, and the stands were packed with students, alumni, parents, and scouts. Every mistake would be seen, and every goal remembered.

He didn’t even care that I hadn’t consented to that video! “I don’t want to hear excuses, you won’t be going to Toronto this weekend anymore… I'll be sending you to grandmas, surely you can work on the farm…” His words slowly drowned out and I turned to leave ignoring his calls. I hated them… This time j meant it… just one night I had leg loose and foolishly trusted them only for them to ruin my life. What I couldn’t understand was why? Why they had done it?! Perhaps to put me I. My image? Or to break me? As I walked past their room, I heard the hockey team mirror their girlfriends' laughter.

The hiss of Liam’s blades on the hard hockey ice was the only sound in the cavernous room, a sharp, clean rhythm that cut through the frozen air. Without the high-velocity impact of the quad jumps, the session became an exercise in pure, unadulterated control. He glided in deep, sweeping figure-eights, his body leaning so low to the ice that his gloved fingers occasionally brushed the cold, frosted surface of the sheet. Every edge transition was a delicate, dangerous negotiation between his weight and the nineteen-degree steel beneath his boots.

"That was a deliberate, targeted hit. And I want to know why." "I already said……" "I don't care what you said. I want the truth. Right now." I looked at him. He was old school. He'd been coaching hockey for thirty years. He'd seen every dirty play, every excuse, every pathetic justification. And right now, he was staring at me like he was looking at someone he didn't recognize. "Personal issue," I said. "Personal issue?" His voice rose. "You can't let personal issues onto the ice, Lucas. That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works."