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Book Title: Breakaway for Love
Author and Cover Artist: Koko Klein
Publisher: Sicherheit & Consulting Krautgasser GmbH
Release Date: March 3, 2025
Tense/POV: first person, present tense, alternating POV
Genres: Contemporary MM Sports (Hockey) Romance
Tropes: Enemies-to-Lovers, Gay Awakening, Forced Proximity
Themes: Coming out, Homophobic Parents, Olympic Games
Heat Rating: 4-5 flames
Length: 64 000 words/ 230 pages
It's book one of the Hockey & Love series.
Every book in the series is a stand-alone story with a guaranteed happy end.
The next book in the series will be published in May.
It does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited
Blurb
Between hatred and desire.
Nico was brought up to hate Daniel. The feud between their families is centuries old. But now they are both part of the Terengian national ice hockey team.
Working together is proving difficult. A medal at the Winter Olympics in Beijing seems increasingly out of reach. Frustration threatens to tear the team apart. Still Nico and Daniel grow closer every day.
But Nico is keeping a secret. A secret that threatens his very existence. But with every second they spend together, Daniel comes closer to uncover it.
Excerpt
Daniel:
Stay away from the Hovenbergs, my grandfather's voice booms in my head.
I hesitate for a moment but then kick the cone high into the air. The next moment I hear cursing and my grin becomes so wide there’s a serious risk my face will explode.
The slender figure of my arch-enemy steps through the trees and stops at the edge of the pond. In his right hand, he’s carrying my new favorite toy as if it were something incredibly disgusting. In the dim light, I see that his face is contorted with rage. His ear-length hair is a bit disheveled.
Did I hit him in the head? Oops! I should probably apologize, but I’ve always loved winding him up, even back at school — he’s cute when he’s angry.
Whoa! Where did that thought come from?
I feel a little heat rising to my face, and I hope the poor light and my cheeks being red from the cold will hide my blush. Instead, I try to keep the defiant grin on my face.
“Have a go if you think you’re tough enough," I tease.
Why am I provoking him? I’ve no idea what I'm doing. I should just apologize and let him go back to the hotel, but as captain, don't I have a responsibility for him? Shouldn’t I at least try to get him on my side — nemesis or not?
Then Hovenberg swings his arm and throws the pinecone at me. I take it deftly with my chest like a soccer player and even manage to bounce it back and forth twice on each knee before it lands on the ice again. Now, that was impressive, even if I say so myself.
Hovenberg hasn’t moved from the edge of the pond. His arms are folded in front of his chest and he’s glaring at me. I'm sure if the light were better, I’d see storm clouds collecting in his eyes. He's so easily provoked. That's why it's so much fun, and why, even in our school days, it was so hard to follow my grandparents' advice.
I kick my recovered cone so that it lands right at Hovenberg's feet, but he doesn't move an inch.
"Is the big bad hockey player suddenly afraid of the nasty ice?" My voice drips with sarcasm.
Nico’s stern expression becomes even darker. If he were an animal, he’d be growling at me by now. In fact, I do hear a rumbling sound, although I'm not entirely sure because of the breeze rustling the leaves of the trees.
My nemesis sets a foot on the dark ice surface. He looks totally unsure of himself, and I wonder if he’s never been on natural ice before. I spent half my childhood on frozen ponds like this one. The ice is thick enough for safety which anyone who grew up here should know.
That consideration sparks another recollection of the rumors that were going around at school about him. Supposedly, Hovenberg's father had his own little ice rink built for his son on their property, and if that's true, it must have cost a fortune! My family is one of the richest in the country, but when I once suggested to my grandparents that instead of the tennis courts which nobody used, we could build an ice rink, my grandpa’s reply was to flip me the bird.
Hovenberg puts his second foot on the ice eventually and stands there in his white moon boots, his legs spread wide. His posture looks off. I can't read it for sure, but I wonder whether he’s getting ready to pounce on me, or if he’s just damn scared and trying not to show it.
Then the pinecone shoots across the ice toward me. I stop it with my right foot and shoot it back to Hovenberg. This goes back and forth a few times, but Hovenberg doesn’t move from the edge of the pond.
Is he really that scared?
Until now, I’d made sure the cone always landed at the feet of my impromptu playmate. Now, I decide to make this more of a challenge. I kick the pinecone past him towards an imaginary goal behind him, but Hovenberg skillfully intercepts the cone and flips it back to me just as I did to him. It’s like being back at school as we try to outdo each other.
My mood lifts as we play. It was fun playing on the ice by myself, but it's definitely more fun with two, and the longer we play, the more I forget who I’m having fun with. Forget that I actually hate him. Forget everything that stands between us.
My winter boots are being tested to their limits and my breath is coming out in gasps when all of a sudden, the pinecone flies toward me at an unexpected angle. Without a second thought, I dart to the right and jump to prevent the cone from sailing into my goal, but the ice gives way to snow, and I stumble over the edge of the pond and land in a soft pile. The breath is momentarily knocked out of me by the shocking cold that spreads over my face and trickles down my collar, then laughter takes over.
When was the last time I had this much fun?
I turn onto my back slowly but when I do, the laughter dies in my throat.
I’m alone!
The makeshift ice rink is deserted.
About the Author
The Austrian bestselling author Koko Klein lives with her husband, son, and two crazy cats in the heart of Vienna’s historic city center. She loves to walk on roads kings were already travelling centuries ago. When she’s not busy coming up with new stories (once again failing to sleep because of them), she plays the piano (until her son has had enough of classical music), devours books (until the cats need to be petted right now), or plays board games (until her husband prefers to switch on the PlayStation).
Author Links
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