Play Right: An Enemies to Lovers Age Gap Romance

By Matilda Martel

Ajax Easton is a Tony Award-winning playwright used to getting his way. The playwright rules supreme on the Broadway stage and his latest play The End of Love is set to be another hit.  

Georgia Madrid is one of the hottest actresses in Hollywood. She’s just won an Oscar but doesn’t believe she’s taken seriously. Her manager recommends the theater and specifically Ajax’s play.   

Georgia’s not interested. She hates the theater, but she fears becoming overplayed in Hollywood.  

Ajax is a theater snob and doesn’t think a screen actress is right for the role, except Georgia is his muse. He’s harbored a secret crush on her for years and the prospect of meeting her pushes him to agree. 

Big personalities overrule mutual attraction. Sparks combust into fireworks and lovers become enemies before they realize they couldn’t be a more perfect fit.  

 

This is a steamy contemporary insta-love romantic comedy with an older playwright and his younger leading lady who fall madly in love but keep fumbling their way to their happily ever after. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matilda Martel
• Release date: Feb 7, 2021

Matilda Martel

Matilda loves many things---her husband, dachshunds, cats, the two terrible Chihuahuas who live with her, Paris, New York, a few select friends and family, Nutella, books, lots and lots of books, and writing sweet, steamy romance for nerdy girls-- because that's who I am.If you like your romances steamy but sweet. Sexy, but on the shorter side. With smart and sassy heroines who fall for soulful Alphas- then you might like my books.I write A LOT of OMYW, cause that's just my bag. But no matter what kind of story it is, my ladies are always adored and my endings are always HEA.Please head to my blog: www.matildamartel.com, to learn what's in the final stages and will be coming out soon!Want a free Ebook? Join my mailing list to get my monthly newsletter at : www.matildamartel.com/mailinglist/

Book preview

ONE

AJAX

Everyone wants a happy ending. We all want to see two soul mates ride off into the sunset, confident that true love conquers all. We’re simple creatures. Who doesn’t want a heartwarming story that makes you feel good about spending $300 on Broadway tickets? I understand perfectly. But that’s not reality.  

And I write reality, not romance. 

Love stories are my calling card. Boy meets girl. Boy and girl move in together, then girl winds up dumping said boy flat on his ass. Sometimes the boy has it coming. Sometimes, the girl meets boy number two, and he reminds her what a cheap, charm-free, inconsiderate ass she’s been shacking up with for the last year. It’s almost always the man’s fault because, as I said, I write reality. 

I tried other genres, but none satisfied me. Relationships have everything you want in a good story. There’s the psychology, neurosis, head games, betrayals, compromises, and passion. Real romance isn’t smooth, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth tackling. There are good and bad times. Not everyone stays together because love is messy. 

Sometimes love gets ugly. 

Ask anyone who’s ever had more than one partner in their life. Anything that ends will almost always end badly. 

Or why would it end at all?

This is my fifth play on Broadway and the only time I’ve written from personal experience. Names are changed. Events are altered. My heroine is romanticized, and the hero makes better decisions than I ever did. There’s no happy ending. It’s sad and reflective but honest. This story means a lot to me, and I will do it my way despite what people want or expect. With four hits under my belt, they should trust my judgment. 

Right by the curb, please. By the coffeehouse. I gesture to the building on the right, and my driver groans with displeasure. He could argue but would rather deal with honks and profanities than me. He quickly jerks the steering wheel and cuts between a row of cars to make it happen. I should have warned him better, but my head is in the clouds. I can’t think about anything but today’s meeting.  

This always happens. The first cast is the most important, and no one ever agrees on the first round. The producer wants a big name from Hollywood, but those rarely work out. The director wants the actress I suspect he’s dating, but I’ve seen her, and she doesn’t fit the character. My heroine is Hispanic, and I want a Hispanic actress to play her. I don’t want someone who can pass. I want the genuine thing, at least for the original cast.  

I have a few suggestions and a final say, but I don’t want to be a tyrant right out of the gate. That time will come. It always does.  

In the meantime, let the games begin.

Clutching my coffee, I stride into the empty theater and spot Ryan, the producer waiting in the lobby, twiddling his thumbs and wearing a suspicious grin that makes me uneasy. As soon as I see him, I walk faster and dart toward the elevator.  

Did you get my messages? His voice sounds too enthusiastic. Ideas are churning, and that’s never a good thing.  

I did. My voice remains steady. I’m giving nothing away. 

Did you listen to them? He knows I haven’t. 

I did not. I walk out on the third floor and head towards his boardroom. 

Ajax, this is important. He whines and follows closely. Too close. I don’t like him invading my space. 

It always is. We’ll discuss this in a few moments. Give me a sec to pull up my notes. I avoid giving him eye contact while I power on my laptop, enter my password, and peruse my emails. There’s no getting around the inevitable. I can only imagine the long list of rejects he’s about to unload. 

Listen. Hear me out. His eyes dance with excitement, but I’m too flustered to care.  

Did I miss anything? My assistant Tabitha stumbles through the door carrying a heavy bag on each shoulder. 

For Pete’s sake, what on earth do you have with you? I rush to give her a hand before she twists her ankle, forcing me to carry her home. 

I have your fresh edits, the notes from last night, my laptop, my purse, and some snacks. She dumps everything on a chair, brushes the hair off her face, and wipes her chair down with a sanitary wipe. It’s a ritual. You said we’d be here a while. 

Edits? So soon? I thumb through her bag while she struggles to sit comfortably. She’s not handling pregnancy well. Besides the moods and constant snacking, she’s convinced herself her pregnancy is undetectable in the right outfits. If I mention any difference, she pouts for days. 

Good morning! Hope I didn’t keep you two waiting. Alfred, the director, rushes in and takes his seat. 

Well? I give Ryan an icy glare. What the hell were you going to say? 

He nods and takes a quick glance at his watch. We should start. This will take a while, and Ajax never makes this easy. 

I accept my shortcomings and ignore his comment. 

Let’s begin. I hand each person a freshly printed copy of my suggestions for the two lead characters, and I’m immediately met with a slacked jaw, a groan, an enthusiastic clap from Tabby, and a few clenched fists.  

Ryan makes his first impressions known. No surprise. Everyone here sucks. 

This will take all week. 

TWO

GEORGIA

Theater? Theater! The suggestion is outrageous. I toss a throw pillow against the wall, clench my fists into tight balls and march into the kitchen. I need a drink---a big one. 

When you ask the woman contracted to take 10% of your livelihood, you expect better advice than theater. I assumed she’d give me something good. Something easy, like a fake affair. Maybe even fun, like a sex tape. Not that I’d do something so horrid, but between theater and a sex tape, I could be convinced to try the latter.  

I can’t do theater. I did it in college, and that was enough.  

"Georgie, everyone does it. Nicole Kidman did it. Annette Bening did it. Hugh