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Kindle Notes & Highlights
I know you shouldn’t judge people based on how they look, but the fact that the girl wearing a pair of cutoff shorts, a t-shirt covered in pink flowers, and glitter Converse makes horror props? Yeah, fucking color me surprised by that. Even though I don’t really know her, I think it sort of fits. She seems to march to the beat of her own drum, and I like that.
As long as we get to our destination and he doesn’t murder me, I’m calling it a win.
If you think just because I’m an almost-thirty-year-old man I am not going to still have a love affair with ketchup, you’re dead wrong.”
Usually when you think hockey arena, you think boisterous, cheering fans. But most people forget about the quiet moments. The ones where everyone collectively holds their breaths. The ones where the game of inches and seconds really becomes a game of centimeters and milliseconds.
Are you even a hockey fan?” “I like the butts.” Okay, that’s fair.
I don’t sport. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about hockey. I thought the puck was made of plastic.” “It’s rubber,” Ryan corrects. “Everyone knows that.” “I didn’t! That’s how much I don’t sport!”
There’s something exhilarating about hearing the bodies crash against the boards. Something so thrilling about hearing the puck ping off the crossbar. And watching the players glide down the ice effortlessly like they aren’t playing a high-speed game on frozen water with knives attached to their feet? It’s intoxicating.
“Okay, it’s official: I’m a hockey fan,” Ryan says, staring out at the ice longingly as the players leave it. “Are you a hockey fan, or do you just like looking at the hockey players?”
I want to earn your kisses, not take them from you.” I want to point out that he’s not taking, I’m offering.
Hot, famous hockey player with a bad rap but a secret heart of gold.
“Horror movies are predictable. Love isn’t.”
Wouldn’t you rather love him fiercely while you can than not at all?”
My idea of a wild night is drinking coffee and starting a Lord of the Rings marathon at 9 PM.
Hockey is my life. I live it, love it, and breathe it. All this other bullshit is worth it for those twenty minutes of ice time eighty-two nights a year.
all I do is play a game for a living and get beat up by other grown-ass men.
“I’d sit in a crowd of a hundred thousand people if it meant being there to support you.”
I miss her constantly, sometimes even when she’s sitting right next to me. All I want to do is be around her and be with her. I want to celebrate her milestones and her good news, and I want to experience all her downs too.
I kiss her hard. I kiss her deep. I kiss her for all the times I’m not going to be able to kiss her anymore.
I want to tell her I love her. Tell her I can’t imagine a day of my life without her in it and I want this to be real more than anything I’ve ever wanted before.
what do you say to your fake husband that you fell in love with?
I didn’t realize how in love I fell with the sport. Not having hockey in my life over the last few weeks has been weird. I miss it. I miss the thrill of watching the guys fly down the ice. I miss the crashing into the boards. I miss the crazy shots thrown at the net that should never go in but somehow always do. I miss the announcers being total goofballs and mispronouncing so many names. I miss hockey,
“What do you say? You want to go watch some grown men be paid entirely too much money to chase around a vulcanized rubber disc on frozen water with knife blades on their feet?”
I kiss her to shut her up and I kiss her because I can’t stand not kissing her for another second.
I want to kiss away all the sadness and all the problems she seems to be having. I want to see her smile again. I want to see her laugh.
Not kissing her for four days felt like hell. Kissing her for four seconds feels like heaven.
You girls keep bringing around all these hockey players, and everybody knows hockey players have cute butts.” “It’s true. I’m pretty sure there was a study done on it or something.” “Yeah. It’s just science at this point,”
I wish we were at home right now. If I’m playing shit hockey, I’d rather play shit hockey at home so at least I can go back home to Hollis.
You know when you’ve had a long day at work and everything that could have gone wrong did, and all you want to do is go home, take off your pants, pour a glass of wine, and order a pizza? That was all I wanted: pants off, wine poured, pizza delivered, in that order.
There is nothing like playing in front of a home crowd, especially when you’re winning. The roar of your number one supporters cheering and clapping for you to win is incomparable.
She said my name. It sounds stupid, absolutely ridiculous, but I’ve always been Smith, never Owen. It’s just four letters, but they roll off her tongue like a poem, and it’s the best one I’ve ever heard.
It didn’t feel right to just get rid of something we’d done together. It felt like I was trying to get rid of her when all I wanted to do was hold on for dear life.
Being with her feels like coming home. It feels right.
cute! I love the little sandbox and the mobile library.” Her eyes light up. “I’m a huge book lover.” “Boys in books are just better,” I say. “Yes! That’s exactly what I always say!”
It’s crazy to me how well she fits into my life, how right this feels…how I could get really used to this if I let myself.
“Next is bed. It’s late and I’m tired.” “It’s not that late.” “Um, some of us are over thirty and played a hockey game today.” “Some of us are old and boring too.”
For a moment, I wonder if I’ll ever tire of this—tire of being near her, kissing her, feeling her beneath me. I decide right then that, no, I won’t, and somehow, that thought isn’t as scary as it should be.
“Why do you wear those heels if they hurt? I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re incredibly sexy. But if they’re painful, why?” She shrugs. “They make me feel powerful. Important.” “You don’t need heels for that. You’re already powerful and important.”
I feel good, happy, and there is absolutely no denying that it’s all because of Smith. I wish I could bottle this feeling and keep it forever,
Giving up hockey would be like giving up breathing—it’s impossible to do.
I didn’t realize I was missing something so important in my life until you. I didn’t realize that I could feel this way about anything other than hockey until you. I didn’t realize that I wanted more out of life than hockey until you. But I do. I want it all. A future.”
“While I might love the game of hockey and you guys too, there’s someone else I love more. And I’d choose her every time.”
It feels damn good to be out here playing the game I love so much with the guys I’ve grown to consider family. I don’t have any brothers, so this is the closest I’ll ever get to having them.
The last time I touched the book I promised I’d write was three years ago, and that was to delete it. Every time I’ve sat down to write since then, the words won’t come, which really sucks for someone who wants so badly to be published.
I laugh, truly enjoying fucking with him. Don’t get me wrong, his mother-in-law is gorgeous, and I love flirting with her because it makes her feel good, but it’s all in good fun. Truth is, I just like spending time around her because she’s the kind of mother I wish I had—warm, thoughtful, and kind.
Okay, so maybe I don’t have the best track record when it comes to flirting with the older women in my teammates’ lives. What can I say? It’s fun to mess with them. They make it entirely too easy.
I’m not ashamed of my reading habits. Hell, I could have much worse hobbies. But I also know at some point, I have to stop hiding behind the pages of a book and actually live, which is what she’s getting at.
I love baking and making donuts, but I love love just a little more,
“Sometimes I default to dark humor when I get uncomfortable
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you before, but I see you now.”
I mean, he’s Greer. He’s like the biggest asshole on the planet, but not really. That’s just a front. I think he got his heart broken once upon a time, and now he’s working on his villain origin story or something.
