More on this book
Kindle Notes & Highlights
For my sistahs of all colors: I saw a need and decided to fill it. This story is for you. Also, hockey players, they bring all the girls to the yard. Am I right?
As Beyonce so eloquently stated in an introduction of one of her songs from her latest album, “Genres are a funny little concept, aren’t they? In theory they have a simple definition that’s easy to understand. . .but in practice some may feel confined.”
In Plato's Symposium it says that “Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole. . .and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him.”
It’s an all-out brawl. The fight between two players quickly turns into both teams coming together, a dog-pile of fists and blood as the scene on the ice before me turns hostile. It’s barbaric, and hell, a little dramatic, but this shit is exhilarating to watch. So, this is hockey. The crowd goes absolutely ape-shit. I think. . .I think I might be in love.
I’ve read my fair share of hockey romance novels; it’s the reason why I am here tonight.
Nothing prepared me for this. The energy from the crowd and players is electric. It’s a fast-paced adrenaline rush of unexpected maneuvers that has my heart in my throat with each pass of the puck. There would be no amount of research that could do the real experience justice.
