Romance Hockey Books Novels & Stories

I have one job, win this game. Mitchell skates past me, shoulder-checking me harder than necessary. “Nice punch, Hart,” he sneers. “Too bad your head’s not in the game.” I don’t look at him. I don’t react. I just keep skating. He hates that. Next shift, he tries again, a shove to my back, a slash to my stick, a muttered insult about my team. Still nothing. I’m not giving him the satisfaction. But then he says her name. “Hey, how’s your little ice princess? Lena, right? Shame, she got hurt. But maybe I can help her 'heal' up”

“They work." "They terrify me." "They should.” Sandra folds one elegant leg over the other. "The public doesn't see Mercer versus Locke as a hockey rivalry anymore." Jim nods. "What do they see?" She smiles. "They see mythology. They're opposite archetypes.” She gestures toward the screen. "Locke is discipline, Mercer is chaos. Locke is cold precision, Mercer is pure instinct. They’re the two biggest personalities in the league, and every time they're photographed within ten feet of one another our engagement explodes."

Ever. I pointed to the rest of the stuff, and he started moving it all, quiet and strong. The room felt smaller with him in it, but not in a bad way. Still, my mind wouldn’t stop. What if this was a trick? What if he got tired of me and left? The tension in my chest made it hard to breathe. After a few minutes, he broke the silence. “So, you like hockey at all? Or is it just something you clean up after?”

I said and pull him in the counter bar. After one hour the crowd is already wild and my head is like spinning I can feel Henry's hand on my legs and caress it seductively and kiss me on my neck and suck it gently. A moan scape to my mouth when he sucks my neck. My body starts to feel the heat and my pussy is starting to get wet. "Come on Ria," He said and carried me. He pinned me on the door and kissed me aggressively. He keeps sucking my neck down to my breast and suck my tits also.

“You’re staring at each other again.” Noelle’s small voice cut through the thick silence. Sebastian stepped back immediately, releasing Nyra’s arm as if he’d been caught doing something forbidden. Nyra straightened, ignoring the sting in her grazed arm. “We’re not.” “You are,” Noelle insisted. “Like in the movies before they kiss.” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Enough.” Sirens wailed outside the lodge. Guests were being ushered away, security shouting instructions. The scent of gunpowder still hung in the air, mixing with pine and melted wax from fallen candles.

As long as Diego could make me feel like the center of the universe, I realized I could overlook almost any friction between us. And overlook it I did. We fell back into a routine—studying nearly every evening, though the library was quickly replaced by the privacy of the Riverside Duplex. We’d make an honest attempt at the books, but as the sun dipped below the horizon, the gravity between us would inevitably pull us toward the bedroom. It felt like a functional truce. I was getting the academic support I needed and the most intense physical connection of my life. It was the best of both worlds. Who wouldn't want a brilliant, lethal hockey star as their personal tutor and lover?

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> But this time, he was alone. This fracture was between him and Gunner. And they were the only two that could mend it. It ran deeper than hockey for Khyle, though. He could admit to himself at least that he genuinely wanted Gunner to respect him, to like him, to trust him. Khyle knew the bluenet was capable of being charming and friendly. Regardless of his animalistic good looks, how else would he have had so many women crawling into his bed? Gunner had regular conversations with his other teammates that didn't end in bickering or a bloodbath, and Khyle found himself wondering what it would feel like to have a kind word or a pat on the shoulder from the enforcer, or someth

"And I'll recommend that the league drop the investigation." "Thank you." "Don't thank me yet." Dr. Chen pulled something out of her desk drawer. A book manuscript. Thick. Printed. The cover page read: "Love on Ice: The True Story of Hockey's Most Controversial Couple. By Emily Chen, Ph.D." Damian's blood ran cold. "What is that?" "My book." Dr. Chen set the manuscript on the coffee table. "I've been writing it for six months. Interviews. Research. Analysis. It covers everything—your rivalry, your relationship, the blackmail, the shooting, the wedding."

Hearing the system's promise, I was instantly tempted. "Ximena, let me fix your skull." I used the universal glue to carefully attach the missing piece back onto her head. After it dried, I had her shake her head a few times to test it. "It's really fixed." Ximena broke into a happy smile. I seized the moment to make my request. "Ximena, today is our wedding day. Let's just forget all the misunderstandings from before. How about you give me that nail as a token of our love?"

"The hockey player you like! You're his biggest fan!" Mira immediately glared at me, her chest heaving. "But, how come you're with Marco Marten? I don't like ice hockey, but I live off oxygen and social media, so I know about him! He just broke off his engagement with that bitch Cassandra, right? So what's he doing with you now?" Mira's finger pointed straight at my pale face. "Haze, you... it can't be, can you? You're the one who ruined their engagement?"