The Rookie (The San Antonio Hyenas #4) Read Online Olivia T. Turner

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Novella, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The San Antonio Hyenas Series by Olivia T. Turner

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)

I’m the last of the original crew still working at the pub.

Bridget met a guy online and moved to Australia, James got fired, Ivy had a kid, Zara went to work for her dad in Miami, and now Lauren is leaving too.

I’m the only one left.

With no prospects and no opportunities.

Until out of the blue, I get one.

I had long given up my career as a real estate agent.

It was over before it even started.

But now, someone found one of my old business cards and they need help finding a house.

Not a house. A mansion.

And it’s not some random guy.

It’s hockey superstar, Austin Gambill.

I can’t screw this up.

I have to be professional.

Even if all I want to do is pull my only client into every walk-in closet we pass and find out if those lips are as soft as they look.

I have to be on my best behavior.

But my hot superstar client is making that damn near impossible.

Location, location, location.

On the floor, in the kitchen, in the pool.

He is certainly a motivated buyer.

Motivated to close on a house and close on me.

I’m going to find him his dream home.

But will his dream involve me?

Austin found his dream house, but he also found the perfect girl to make it into a home. Will the hockey rookie score or miss wildly?

Book Four in The San Antonio Hyenas series. Hockey romance. No cheating, SAFE, Double V-cards, and a super sweet HEA always guaranteed.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



“Austin, you’re on,” Coach Moss says as he draws up the play. “Sutton, Svensson, and Kemp—you’re joining him.”

I’m exhausted, but I’m grinning at the opportunity. The score is three-three and there’s less than a minute left.

It’s been a hell of a game. The Halifax Icebreakers want this as badly as we do. They’re pushing us hard.

My entire team is gathered around, except for Tucker McKinstry who’s sitting in the penalty box by himself.

The crowd is singing Mr. Brightside by The Killers.

This whole year has been surreal.

I’m halfway through my rookie season and I’m still awestruck by it all. The arena is packed and every single person is on their feet. People out there are wearing my jersey. Gambill. Number Nine. I still can’t believe it.

I pictured these moments when I was a ten-year-old boy skating on the frozen pond back home in Michigan, practicing my slap shot, still out there long after the other boys had gone home for hot chocolate and cookies. I was always the last one on the ice, out there until my dad came and dragged me off, fingers frozen and ankles aching, but still begging for five more minutes.

All I wanted was to be a hockey player. I wanted to be like the Flamethrower. I wanted to be the great Harris Sutton.

And now, I’m standing beside Harris as the coach draws up the play.

Too bad he hates me.

“McKinstry is coming out in sixteen seconds,” Coach Moss says. “You’re going to be down one player until then. You’ll have to hold them off.”

I’m feeling nervous and excited and every other emotion possible. Meanwhile, Harris looks calm and cool like it’s just another day at the office. I guess when you’ve been in the league for ten years like he has, it is.

“Kemp, you bring it into their zone and if you have the shot, you take it,” Coach Moss says. “If not, Z-Back formation. They’re going to be expecting the slap shot from Sutton, but Gambill, you’re going to take it.”

Edvard smacks my shoulder with a grin on his face as the excited, nervous energy rippling through me comes to a boil. This is my chance.

The referee blows the whistle, which means our timeout is over. I skate to the circle with the boys as the best players on the Icebreakers skate over to meet us.

I can feel the tension in the air. The home crowd is on the edge of their seats. They want a win and I want to give it to them.

I’ve been feeling the pressure all season long. I was the number one draft pick and I’ve been trying to live up to the title, but it’s hard. These guys are no joke.

I’m having an okay season. Hardly what I had hoped for, but I’m trying to improve. I’m surrounded by so much talent on this team and I’m trying to take it all in.

I was ecstatic when I learned that I’d be on the same team as Harris Sutton, but that hasn’t gone as expected either.

When I was a kid, I had The Flamethrower’s posters on my wall. I wore his jersey so much the letters wore off. The back said Su n.

I practiced his moves and when the Hyenas played a game in Boston, I made my dad drive me over there. We waited outside the arena for four hours until he came out. He signed his hockey card for me and I still remember exactly what he said when my dad told him I was a hockey player.

“I can’t wait to watch you play one day, kid.”

That was my fuel for years. All through the junior and collegiate levels. All those early wake-up calls and grueling practices. Those words spurred me on. They kept me going. The great Harris Sutton was going to watch me play. It was all I cared about.

And then, I found out I’d be Harris’ teammate? I’d be skating beside him? I’d be passing him the puck? I couldn’t believe it.

But then I got here and he didn’t want anything to do with me. He was curt when I introduced myself and blew me off every time I tried to talk to him.

I don’t think he likes me and that’s been tough. It seems like I can’t do anything right around him.

Don’t meet your heroes, folks.

Lately, he’s been nicer. I see him smiling more. He seems less angry.

He recently found out that he has a five-year-old boy and he got back together with the mother, which I think is having a lot to do with it. It’s taken the edge off him.

Adrenaline starts ripping through me as the referee skates over with the puck. Sebastian is taking the face-off, because he’s the best. I’m playing left wing, Edvard Svensson—the Nordic Wonder—is right wing, Harris is left defensemen behind me, our team enforcer, Tucker McKinstry is in his usual spot in the penalty box, and our goalie Nolan Barlowe is ready in front of the net.