The plan is simple. First, sit him down and flatter the shit out of him. Laugh at his crappy jokes. Touch his arm, let it linger. When he asks me out, I’ll flutter my eyelashes and shyly accept. Then, make him fall in love. And devour him. I’m ready. I won’t fail. But there's one thing that I didn’t plan for: he doesn’t ask me out. Instead, he calls me out on my BS. He’s not wrong, but that’s just one of the ways that my plan has already gone terribly wrong before it even begins.
When he does finally ask me out, it isn’t much of a date. Instead, it’s a few agonizing hours of going back and forth about why we hate each other. But there is one interesting thing that came out of our brief time together: the bet that Hawk makes with me- that he will make me fall in love in 3 weeks, in love for real. If he fails, he’ll give me every exclusive for the season. Of course, I accept. Why wouldn’t I? This will help my career, and it’s not like he has a prayer anyway. This jerk broke my heart in high school, and there’s no way that I will fall for the same trick twice. Or will I?
All bets are off when it comes to the heart. Fumbled is a standalone sports romcom that will make you wonder what to do when love- and football- gives you a second chance....
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