Game On: A Hot Enemies-to-Lovers Novella

By Sara Whitney

"As snappy, clever, and sexually charged as a 30's romantic comedy." Tanya, Goodreads reviewer

Grant Franklin loathes the woman who shares his armrest at Wrigley Field. Not only does she insist on wearing Yankees gear to every game, but she's completely immune to his charms.

Lily Castillo loves antagonizing the man who shares her armrest at Wrigley Field. The Cubs fan is far too handsome for his own good, but at least he's delightfully easy to ruffle.

Then Lily brings a date to a game, and Grant engages in a little sabotage. From there, it's game on—and they're both playing for keeps.

You don't have to be a baseball fan to fall for this hot, hilarious novella. And you'll see Lily and Grant again in Tempting Taste, book 1 in the Cinnamon Roll Alpha Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sara Whitney
• Release date: Jul 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393686736

Book preview

Game On

Game On

A Hot Enemies-to-Lovers Novella

Sara Whitney

Game On

Copyright © 2019 Sara Whitney

Published by LoveSpark Press

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

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Editor: Victory Editing

First Edition: July 2019

v. 1.8

To Tanya, who loves the Yankees

To Bria, who loves the Red Sox

And to Mom, who loves me

Contents

About the Book

Game On

Sneak Peek

Also by Sara Whitney

About the Author

Rival teams

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All Grant Franklin wants to do is watch his Cubbies in peace. Too bad his irritating new neighbor makes that impossible. And he’s not sure what’s worse: her insistence on wearing Yankees gear to every game, or her complete indifference to his charms.

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Sparring seatmates

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Lily Castillo didn’t intend to become the New York-supporting thorn in her handsome neighbor’s side, but it’s just too much fun using her sharp tongue to get the unflappable Grant to flap. If only she could stop thinking about him once she leaves the ballpark.

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Let the games begin

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With eighty-plus home games in the season and seats that share an armrest, Lily and Grant have plenty of time to bicker, provoke, share family secrets, engage in a little sabotage… and maybe even fall in love.

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Game On

An Enemies-to-Lovers Short Story

Game 1

She was dressed in New York Yankees navy, and Grant Franklin disliked her on sight.

It was unbelievable. She was taking up space straight down the first baseline during the Chicago Cubs home opener with an enormous, stylized NY in the middle of her chest.

He settled into his own seat, the one he’d occupied for six years running thanks to good luck in the season ticket lottery after a lifetime of waiting, and found himself jockeying for armrest space with this… woman… who was sprawled next to him, with her blasphemous clothing and her sulky face, ruining the vibe for everybody in the vicinity.

He shot a covert glance to his left and confirmed what he’d feared: she’d topped her shaggy ponytail with a hat bearing the Yankees Uncle Sam bat logo. His temples throbbed as he considered the way she was disrespecting the ivy covering the walls of this holy place.

I take it you’re not a baseball fan? The words barely escaped through his gritted teeth.

The sharp angles of her face twisted in confusion. I love baseball.

He looked pointedly down at her sweatshirt. You sure about that?

Her confusion dissolved into a scowl, and she crossed her arms over the offending letters. At least my guys don’t blame a goat for their failures.

Low. That was low. He exhaled on a five count before he was able to speak.

That. Curse. Was. Real.

Pathetic. She smirked and took a long sip of her beer.

Beer. Yes. Maybe that would improve the situation. He gestured to the closest vendor and held up two fingers. The first inning wasn’t even underway, and he felt the urge to double-fist. Not great.

Once he’d downed a healthy slug of the first cup, he turned back to her and strived to inject a trace of pleasantry into his voice. So, are you a guest of Anthony’s?

Grant hadn’t loved the guy’s hairy forearm taking up more than its share of armrest space over the years, but he’d welcome those furry ham hocks all day, every day, over a… a Yankees fan. It didn’t even bear considering.

She picked up on the naked hope in his voice and beamed at him. Nope! Poor old Tony lost these tickets in the divorce. They’re all mine now.

She gestured to herself and the empty seat next to her, but for some reason that horrifying confirmation wasn’t what made Grant pause. "You were married to Anthony Brandt?"

Well, well, well. Looks like he’d hit a nerve. Her already unfriendly face turned downright stony as she whipped her head forward to glare at the field where the players were taking their places for the opening pitch.

He was married to my sister, she gritted out.

Ah. That made more sense. Anthony had never brought his wife with him to the games over the years, only business associates. But in the thirty seconds that Grant had devoted to pondering the topic—which was about twenty-nine seconds too long, considering mankind’s limited time upon this Earth—he’d assumed the sweaty, obsequious Anthony would be married to one