by Lauren Layne
Copyright © 2015 Lauren LeDonne
Extract from Playing For Keeps copyright © 2015 Lauren LeDonne
Cover photo © Gerber86/iStock
The right of Lauren Layne to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in this Ebook edition in 2015
by HEADLINE ETERNAL
An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by arrangement with Loveswept,
a member of Random House,
a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN 978 1 4722 3629 6
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
Carmelite House
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www.headlineeternal.com
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Praise for Lauren Layne
By Lauren Layne
About the Book
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
An enticing excerpt from Playing For Keeps
Find out more about Headline Eternal
About the Author
Lauren Layne is the USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance. Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. In 2011, she and her husband moved from Seattle to New York City, where Lauren decided to pursue a full-time writing career. It took six months to get her first book deal (despite ardent assurances to her husband that it would only take three). Since then, Lauren’s gone on to multiple books including the bestselling Stiletto series, with more sexy stories on the way!
Lauren currently lives in Chicago with her husband and spoiled Pomeranian. When not writing, you’ll find her at happy hour, running at a doggedly slow pace, or trying to straighten her naturally curly hair.
Join Lauren at www.laurenlayne.com to get news on her latest books, or keep up to date with her on Twitter: @_LaurenLayne and Facebook: www.facebook.com/LaurenLayneAuthor.
Praise for Lauren Layne’s irresistible romance:
‘Fun, sexy, and sharp as a spike heel’ Ruthie Knox, New York Times bestselling author
‘I absolutely adored this outstanding story’ Sandi Lynn, New York Times bestselling author
‘My kind of book, sexy and witty, and the banter between the characters is off the charts. You’ll fall in love with their chemistry from page one’ Sidney Halston, USA Today bestselling author
‘Lauren Layne is the queen of fun and sexy all rolled into one. She knows how to write smart and hilarious characters that I want to read over and over again’ Cassie Mae, bestselling author of Doing It for Love
‘A raw, no-holds-barred portrayal of two best friends making the choice to become lovers . . . the best I’ve ever read!’ The Romance Reviews
‘Fresh and fast-paced . . . a perfect escape/comfort read, and guaranteed to cheer a girl up when she’s feeling down’ Unquietly Me
‘Layne is one of the best authors writing today and I was reminded of that as I read this book . . . It was hot and sexy and sweet. I laughed and shrieked and cried, exactly what I want from a book’ Obsessed with Romance
By Lauren Layne
Oxford Series
Irresistibly Yours
Playing For Keeps
Blurred Lines
About the Book
Hotshot sports editor Cole Sharpe has been freelancing for Oxford for years, so when he hears about a staff position opening up, he figures he’s got the inside track. Then his boss drops a bombshell: Cole has competition. Female competition, in the form of a fresh-faced tomboy who can hang with the dudes – and write circles around them, too. Cole usually likes his women flirty and curvy, but he takes a special interest in his skinny, sassy rival, if only to keep an eye on her. And soon, he can’t take his eyes off her.
Penelope Pope knows all too well that she comes off as just one of the guys. Since she’s learned that wanting more usually leads to disappointment, Penelope’s resigned to sitting on the sidelines when it comes to love. So why does Cole make her want to get back in the game? The man is as arrogant as he is handsome. He probably sees her as nothing more than a barrier to his dream job. But when an unexpected kiss turns into a night of irresistible passion, Penelope has to figure out whether they’re just fooling around – or starting something real.
Want more fun, fresh, flirty and very sexy rom-com? Check out all the titles in the Oxford series: Irresistibly Yours, Playing For Keeps and Someone Like You.
Can a guy and a girl really be ‘just friends’? You won’t want to miss Lauren Layne’s sexy take on this timeless question in Blurred Lines.
For all of you who not so quietly demanded Cole’s story: This one’s for you.
Acknowledgments
Hey, readers! I’m going to be really honest here and say that I’ve been putting off writing the Acknowledgments section of this book. Why? Because it means that I’m at the end of Cole’s story! (Sniff!)
I’ve been waiting forever to watch Cole Sharpe fall in love, so typing “The End” was a little bit bittersweet! But chin up, because we’re going to see more of Cole and Penelope soon! They’ll be playing a very important role in Playing For Keeps (February 2016) and, of course, in sexy Lincoln’s story!
But, lest I get ahead of myself, I need to take a moment and thank all the people who made Cole’s story happen.
First, a big shout-out to you readers. It was you who first gave me the idea that maybe Cole Sharpe had a greater destiny than being just a funny secondary character in Love the One You’re With. You wield great power, not only in an author’s imagination, but with a publisher’s decision to buy a book. Cole and Penelope thank you for your enthusiasm!
Onward: Everyone, please bow to the amazing Sue Grimshaw, my fab editor. And I know some of you might be, like, “Dude, Lauren, you thank her in every book,” and to that I say, “Um, yeah, because she is a driving force behind every book!” This one in particular, she helped whip into shape, providing some delightful “What if…” questions that helped turn Cole and Penelope’s love story into something rather epic.
Next up, we need to talk about this cover, don’t we? Fabulous, right? I gasped the moment I saw it, because it
was as though Lynn Andreozzi had jumped inside my imagination and pulled out my exact vision of Cole Sharpe. There really aren’t words to describe how much I love this cover.
I’m also going to need a dramatic slow clap for the rest of the unsung heroes on my publishing team. Gina, for being the bubbly cheerleader in the background, whose enthusiasm always makes me want to write better, faster, more! For the amazing publicist-guru, Ashleigh Heaton, because, lady, you are killing it, and I am so, so grateful for you. And for marketing whiz Erika Seyfried, for all the magic you cook up behind the scenes.
To my amazing assistant, Lisa…I don’t even know what to say other than sometimes it feels like you’ve saved my life! I really don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for taking care of All the Things so that I have more time to write.
For my family, especially my husband, for the love and support that just never quit.
And last, for my darling friends who helped keep my head above water as I was writing this book, especially Rachel Van Dyken, Jessica Lemmon, and Kristi Yanta. You get me.
Chapter 1
Cole had been watching the brunette for the better part of three innings.
Which was just wrong on a couple of levels.
For starters, it was a rare woman who could come between Cole Sharpe and baseball. Or between Cole and any sport, for that matter.
And at Yankee Stadium in particular, the game came first. Especially a game in which the Yankees were trying to establish early dominance over the Blue Jays in the American League East division.
Cole’s eyes should have been glued to the field. Not only because the Yankees were his team—he’d been a die-hard fan since his Little League days—but because Cole was a sportswriter. Come tomorrow morning, Cole would be expected to know the details of every single at bat.
And yet…
His eyes shifted once more to the narrow figure of the brunette as he took another sip of beer.
There was something about her that demanded a second look and at the same time, there was nothing about her. She was utterly, completely unremarkable.
And that was the other reason why Cole’s fascination with the woman made no sense.
Cole loved women almost as much as he loved sports, but this woman?
Cole liked women curvy, but this one was slim to the point of being skinny. There was no noticeable definition of her waist through her Jeter jersey. No womanly flare of her hips.
Plus, Cole preferred blondes, and this one’s messy ponytail was just a couple shades lighter than black.
As for her face? Well, he hadn’t seen it yet. Not fully. But she’d turned her head once in the third inning, giving Cole a quick glance at her profile. The upturned nose was cute enough, but the rest of her features were hardly so arresting as to explain why he continued to stare at her.
It took Cole another half inning to realize what it was that had captivated him.
For the first time in his life, he was seeing a woman who was more absorbed with a baseball game than he was.
Tiny Brunette, as he’d started thinking of her, hadn’t lost interest in the game once. Even between innings, when the rest of the stadium was refilling on beer and peanuts, she merely scribbled like crazy in a little notebook she kept in her lap.
It was like clockwork. The third out would signal the swap of the players on the field, and Tiny Brunette’s attention would dip toward the damn notebook.
Her left hand would sneak around to twirl her ponytail around a finger while her right hand busily wrote…
What?
What did she write in that notebook? And exactly why did he want to know so badly?
Normally Cole would just ask. The seat beside Tiny Brunette was free. Everyone else in the suite was there more for the networking and the free food and booze than the game. It would have been so easy just to plop down beside her, strike up a conversation. Flirt.
But for some reason he was hesitant.
Cole told himself it was because he didn’t want to interrupt whatever it was she was so diligently working on, but there was an unfamiliar fear too.
The fear of rejection.
Because nothing about this woman signaled that she’d be interested in a conversation with him.
And that would be a first.
But before Cole could make the call on whether or not to die curious about that damn notebook or risk rejection by Tiny Brunette, his best friend and co-worker was holding a fresh beer in front of his face.
“You look like you need it,” Lincoln Mathis said, sipping the foam off his own beer.
“How would you know?” Cole said. “You’ve been chatting up Jonas Leroy’s wife for the better part of four innings.”
“Had to,” Lincoln said with a little shrug. “She was bored. Her husband’s completely preoccupied with whatever’s going on with that ball down there.”
“As he should be at a baseball game,” Cole said pointedly.
Cole didn’t know why he bothered. His friend was already back on his cellphone, not the least bit interested in the game.
Lincoln Mathis looked like the type of man who should enjoy sports: tall, athletic, well muscled from their early-morning gym sessions. Carelessly styled black hair and friendly blue eyes that screamed guy’s guy just as loudly as they did ladies’ man.
But, much to Cole’s dismay, he’d never been able to get his friend to invest more than a passing interest in sports—any sport. Lincoln was always happy to tag along to a game when booze and women were involved, but ask him who he thought this year’s MVP would be, and he’d say Babe Ruth without the smallest hint of irony.
Still, tonight, Cole couldn’t exactly lecture Lincoln for not paying attention when he himself was having a hell of a time keeping track of the score.
Once more, his eyes found Tiny Brunette, who was…yep. Writing in her notebook.
“Hey, Sharpe. Do you know where they keep a fire extinguisher in here?” Lincoln asked, looking around the luxury suite of Yankee Stadium.
Cole tore his gaze away from the woman and her damn notebook. “What for?”
“If you stare at that girl any harder, she’s going to burst into flames,” Lincoln said, jerking his chin at Tiny Brunette.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Don’t insult our bromance,” Lincoln said cheerfully.
“Keep running your mouth and we won’t have a bromance.” Cole forced himself not to look at the woman again.
“Hey, if you’ve got a crush on the wee lass, you can tell me,” Lincoln said, taking another sip of beer.
“I don’t have a crush. And wee lass? Really? You’re Scottish now?”
“Sometimes. Chicks dig the brogue. You should try it on your girl over there.”
“She’s not my girl. She’s just…” Interesting, Cole finished silently.
“Good,” Lincoln said, clapping him on the shoulder. “So you won’t mind that she left.”
Cole’s eyes flew to the seat where the woman was sitting, annoyed to see that his friend was right. She was gone.
“It’s just as well,” Lincoln said. “We have bigger things to focus on. Say, like how we’re going to annihilate the bastard who’s out for your job.”
“It’s not my job,” Cole said, carefully keeping the tinge of bitterness out of his tone.
“Not yet,” Lincoln said. “But it will be. Taking your competition out of the picture is the only reason I’m at this barbarian event.”
“Remind me never to take you to a hockey game,” Cole muttered.
Still, he appreciated his friend’s loyalty. And Lincoln was right. Tonight wasn’t about petite female baseball fans and their damn notebooks.
Tonight was about Cole’s professional future.
The key to that future? Oxford magazine.
Oxford was the country’s top selling men’s magazine where Lincoln—and most of Cole’s other closest friends—worked.
But more important, it was also where Cole work
ed.
Well, sort of.
He would work there. Just as soon as he found the asshole who was after his job.
Cole wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t have a competitive streak. It was a prerequisite for someone whose bread and butter came from knowing the nuances of professional sports.
And it was rare that Cole felt a personal investment in a competition. But tonight? Tonight, it was definitely personal. Cole was the competitor.
The prize?
The title of Senior Sports Editor at Oxford.
The magazine was finally getting a real sports section. Their token two-page spread on fantasy football squeezed in between cologne reviews and the proper way to wear a tie clip was being expanded to a multipage, multitopic sports section.
A section that needed an editor.
Cole was the right man for the job. The only man for the job. Not only had he been writing for Oxford as a freelancer for years, but the editor in chief, Alex Cassidy, was one of his closest friends.
When Cassidy had come to Cole and explained that he wanted to make Oxford a serious contender for the Sports Illustrated readers, Cole had been damn sure that Cassidy was offering him the job.
Hell, Cassidy had been begging him for months to join the team, and Cole was finally ready—ready for a steady paycheck.
Ready to belong to something.
Because, although Cole wasn’t exactly dying to buy a house in the ’burbs and settle down with a nice girl, it wasn’t just about Cole.
It was about Bobby, and the fact that Bobby’s care was getting more and more expensive. His brother needed more than Cole’s occasional freelance checks could provide.
Cole wasn’t just ready for this job. He needed it.
