Puck Puckerman Novels & Stories

I laughed. “Yeah, blame it on your pretty face. But I’m willing to do that—willing to let you win this case.” “Mr. Hilton, you do know this case has nothing to do with us?” “Wrong. This case has everything to do with us, so—” “Let me just stop you there,” I cut him off. “Mr. Puckett—my client—was a gardener, as we all know. Your client, on the other hand, is a public figure. Almost a million followers on social media.”

The moment she saw me she gasped and said. "My god Emily! You are looking stunning. You should wear dresses often. All those kickboxing sessions of yours have really given a very good shape to your body. But your sneakers are spoiling your beauty so remove them." "Mom, It is very difficult for me to walk in those death dealers. I am wearing this dress it is enough. I already don't like showing off my body." I told her and asked her "Mom, where is Puck?" I have named my Puppy as Puck. My mom told me that he is with Richard. Then together we entered the party which was in its full swing. I saw Richard with a handsome man but Puck was nowhere in sight so I went in search for him.

"Who? Who is it? Give me a name. Give me something concrete. Give me something I can use. Something I can hold onto. Something I can fight with." "Marcus Webb. Deputy DA. He's been working with Sanders for years. He's been protecting him. He's been covering for him. He's been helping him destroy people. He's been helping him escape justice. He's been helping him ruin lives. He's been helping him get away with murder. He's been helping him destroy families." "How do you know? How can you be sure? How can you trust this information? How did you get it? Who gave it to you? Who's your source? How reliable is this?"

“Callahan! Quit showboating and run the power play again!” Knox laughed—actually laughed—and flicked the puck to a teammate so smoothly it looked choreographed. Then, because the universe clearly hated me, the puck took a weird bounce off the boards and rocketed straight toward the bleachers. Straight toward me. I had half a second to think, This is how I die, before it smacked the metal seat next to me with a sound like a gunshot. I yelped, jumped up, and promptly slipped on a rogue chunk of ice that had somehow migrated onto the floor. My arms windmilled. My dignity took a nosedive.

Buck watched as they left, the smile slipping off his face. Buck whispered, "Punter's calling a Dashan his brother. What a disgrace." Just then, a man in a black suit walked up to Buck. "Mister Buck, should we go now?" "No, let them have their fun for a while. Do it at night and remember to take care of Punter too. He'll kiss the feet of whoever benefits him, to the point where he's forgotten he's from Eweyn altogether. People like that don't deserve to work with me."

Laughter ricocheted, voices tangled. In the middle of it, Tyler slipped me aside. Small, badly wrapped gift in hand. His eyes were intense, tracking me as I struggled with tape hands brushing mine in the kind of gentle, unintentional intimacy that makes blood race. I knew instantly what it was. A puck. Simple. Circular. Black rubber, about three inches across. But the signature stopped my breath. Smith. Williams. My hand shot to my mouth, eyes stinging. The ache in my throat wasn’t just from shock it was something darker, deeper, twisting. A memory. A history. A grief I thought I’d buried. And yet here it was, in my hands, impossible and undeniable.

"Seriously. Who the hell has the almighty Hunter Callum looking this relaxed on a Monday morning?" "Our captain's glowing." Another teammate whistled. "So in loveeee..." Nick sang dramatically. Hunter laughed despite himself. "Fuck you, Nick." "There it is!" Dean slapped the counter. "He smiled." "The man smiled!" "We're witnessing history," Carter declared solemnly. Hunter cracked another egg into the pan. "You people need hobbies." "We have hobbies." Dean nodded. "Hockey." "And making your life miserable," Dean added proudly. Hunter shook his head. "I've noticed."

Her throat closed as dread filled her, and her palms became cold with sweat. “Then why—?” whispered Lucy. Right then, the obnoxious man returned and handed Lucy her cup of coffee with a sardonic bow. “Lucy, have you met Mr. Roberts?” said Pamela in a strained voice. Carter put out his hand, but Lucy was too frozen to shake it. “Carter Roberts,” he said in that annoying drawl, his eyes sparkling with what looked like triumph. “Baseball player turned executive producer, at your service.” One-click My One and Only now!

His eyes darted between Mikala and me, as if asking who I was and what I was doing in his home. “Puck, this is Samantha. She is the King's fated mate and the future Luna of our pack.” Puck’s eyes widened in regret, as if he had done something wrong, and he bent his head down, staring at his feet. Mikala smiled and looked at him. “He’s sorry if he acted rudely.” “Oh… it’s fine.” Puck looked up at me and smiled before heading out. It occurred to me that he didn’t speak to me but used actions instead.