For the Win: A Wynn Hockey Novel

For the Win: A Wynn Hockey Novel

by Kelly Jamieson
For the Win: A Wynn Hockey Novel

For the Win: A Wynn Hockey Novel

by Kelly Jamieson

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Can a hockey hunk teach a yoga instructor to be more flexible? “Kelly Jamieson is an auto-buy for me.”—New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips
Harrison Wynn
Even though I’m the oldest player on the farm team, I’m playing my heart out this year to prove that I have what it takes to compete in the NHL.
Everyone expects me to live up to my dying hockey hero dad’s legacy, but my chances are receding every season.
What I need is to focus, but the team’s new yoga instructor is a major distraction; I’ve had my eye on her from the first time we met.
Except she’s not interested—okay, maybe actively disinterested—since I accidentally dumped her into the ocean during our paddleboard yoga class.
How can I prove to her—and to the NHL—that I’m worth taking a chance on?
Arya Ross
Men are the last thing I need in my life.
Yoga is my priority; it helps me center myself and heal my soul.
But I can’t turn down the once-in-a-lifetime offer to be the personal yoga instructor for the local hockey team.
Sure, there are some cute players—including Harrison Wynn, who seemingly won’t take no for an answer, and whose boyish smile and sexy charm are hard to resist.
He seems genuine, and I wonder . . .
Can I put my past behind me to start a future with him?
USA Today bestselling author Kelly Jamieson’s epic Wynn Hockey series can be read together or separately:

Don’t miss any of Kelly’s captivating reads:
The Bayard Hockey series: SHUT OUT • CROSS CHECK
The Last Shot series: BODY SHOT • HOT SHOT • LONG SHOT
The standalone novel: DANCING IN THE RAIN

This ebook includes an excerpt from another Loveswept title.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781984800190
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 03/03/2020
Series: Wynn Hockey , #4
Sold by: Random House
Format: eBook
Pages: 245
Sales rank: 91,704
File size: 2 MB

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Kelly Jamieson is the author of more than forty contemporary romance novels. She writes the kind of books she loves to read—sexy romance with heat, humor, and emotion. She likes coffee (black), wine (mostly white), and shoes (high!). She also loves watching hockey.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter 2


It’s a gorgeous morning in Marina del Rey. The sun is warmer now that spring is here, and we’ve even had a little rain, so things are fresh and green. I’m inside Makara Yoga, which is part of Stand-Up Guy Paddleboards, owned by my friend and roommate Taj, getting ready for my Saturday morning stand-up paddleboard yoga class. I didn’t invent this kind of yoga class, but there aren’t many places that offer it, and it’s getting more and more popular.

I have a small studio space here where I do a couple other Saturday classes, and I also work at Prana in Venice a few times a week. I’m enjoying this new career as a yoga instructor. I’m not making a ton of money, but it’s a start, and my classes at Prana have become really popular.

“Hey,” I greet Taj, who’s also preparing for a SUP lesson.

He shakes back the long, dark hair falling over his face and gives me that sexy smile he’s known for. “Morning.”

He’s so freakin’ gorgeous it’s hard to look away from him. He’d probably be modeling if he was taller than five foot nine. We’ve been friends since college. I had a big crush on him then, and I was pretty bummed when I discovered he had a boyfriend. I’ve gotten over it, though, and I’m so glad he’s my friend, because I’ve needed him—and any friends I can get—the last while.

I go onto my laptop to check how many people have registered for this morning’s class. I use an app that makes it easy for people to register for blocks of classes or just drop-ins, and to pay online. I’ve learned a lot about running a business from working at Prana, and now having my own small place.

I limit the class to twenty and it looks like we’re full up today. Yay.

I love these classes on the water. There’s something extra calming and strengthening about being on the ocean, absorbing the boundless energy of the water and wind and sun.

Standing behind the counter Taj and I share in the space, I lift my head when a male voice says, “Hi, Arya.”

I see a familiar face. My pulse leaps in response. This guy came to one of my classes a few months ago. With Everly and Taylor, a couple of my regulars. I thought he was so cute and fun, and he was definitely flirting with me, making dumb jokes about yoga that had me laughing and nearly losing my focus. But then he turned the class into a gong show, knocking a friend of his—no wait, apparently that was his nephew—off his paddleboard into the water as class was finishing.

He’s good-looking, but not in the stunning way Taj is. His chiseled jaw gives him an air of strength, his ocean blue eyes gleam with charm and humor, and his nose has a bump on it that suggests it’s been broken at least once. A scar bisects one eyebrow. His dark hair isn’t the near-black of Taj’s, more of a walnut brown, and it’s shorter. The curve of his mouth in a perpetual smile gives him a boyish, roguish look. And yes, he’s a big fat flirt.

Wait, not fat. His body is amazing—lean and muscled, probably six foot two, with hard-packed abs and an ass that is truly biteable. I may not be into dating or relationships anymore, but I can appreciate a nice smile and a ripped body.

“Hi.” I give him a polite smile so as not to reveal my heart is beating fast. “You’re back.”

“Yeah. I really got a lot out of that class. I think it elevated my brain to a higher state.”

Oh my God. I bite my lower lip on a smile. “Well, good.”

“I’ve truly come to believe in a higher sense of self, a divine energy in the world.”

“Trying a little too hard, dude,” I tell him, then turn away. “Okay, everyone,” I call. “Grab your board and let’s head out onto the water.”

We all pick up boards and paddles and the anchors we use to keep us from floating out to sea, and head outside.

“I’ve been practicing,” I hear him tell his friends behind me as we all enter the water.

Once we’re all in position on our boards with our anchors dropped, I begin the class. “Let’s start with Mountain Pose, feet hip-width apart, your knees in a micro-bend.” I position myself to demonstrate, ignoring the fact that my flirty customer is right near me, his eyes focused on me. “Bring your palms in to your heart.” I press my hands together in front of my chest. “Inhale the arms up.” I lift my arms as I pull air into my lungs, all the way into my belly. “Inhale, reach the arms to the sky, lifting the heart.”

“I love it when my heart lifts,” Flirty Dude says.

Oh my God. I can’t stop the little snort that escapes me. “Exhale and fold forward . . .” I bend over.

“Fold over and let your brains spill out of your head,” Flirty Dude says.

With everyone bent over, one of his friends says, “Also known as ‘preparing your anus.’”

My eyes pop open wide and I freeze. I nearly burst out laughing, which would be totally inappropriate. These guys are throwing me off my game! Again!

Flirty Dude chokes and starts laughing. Next thing I know, there’s a huge splash as he tumbles into the water, splattering my feet and legs.

Now everyone is distracted as he flails around, still chortling.

Everly, who I know a little, yells at him. “Harrison! You’re embarrassing me!”

Harrison. Okay, that’s his name. I’m about to tell him to get a grip and get back on his board, which he’s already trying to do, but as he attempts to climb on, he knocks his board into mine.

My arms flap as I try to regain my balance—and I have excellent balance—but the water’s choppy from his thrashing around and there’s no way I can do it. I fly into the air and land in the water.

I sink beneath the surface, cold water closing around me. I push up, spluttering and shaking water out of my eyes. I cannot believe this is happening!

Chapter 3


“Oh my God!” Everly cries.

I grab my board and rest my forearms on it, staring at Harrison. I’m befuddled. And cold.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “I am so sorry.”

The class is totally disrupted now. Everyone is murmuring and making shocked noises. I don’t even know what to say. This has never happened to me. “I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth. “Wet, obviously.”

“I’m really sorry,” he says again, and he does look contrite. “You can blame him.” He jerks his head at the guy who made the anal joke.

That guy gives me a guilty grimace. “Sorry.”

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