Fernando Fuerte is a total player. In every sense of the word. He’s star forward for the Sharks, the pro soccer team where I handle PR. And I don’t care if Mr. Match says he’s my soulmate. I don’t date players.
When my boyfriend, Andrew-the-hand-model, dumped me, my twin brother suggested I try San Diego’s hottest dating app, Mr. Match.
I figured I couldn’t do worse than a guy who wore gloves all the time. (And I do mean ALL the time.)
But when the site matched me with my biggest PR nightmare and nemesis, Fernando “the Fire” Fuerte, a guy who has more dates than a calendar, I knew Mr. Match was probably high. Fuerte’s tabloid shenanigans turned my stomach and regularly challenged my ability to keep the Sharks organization looking respectable.
My brother Trace—Fuerte’s best friend and keeper for the Sharks—laughed at me when I told him who I’d been matched with. He laughed. I might take myself a little bit seriously, but I won’t be laughed at.
Fernando Fuerte will go out with me if I decide that’s what I want. And when Trace makes me a bet that I can’t get him to ask me out? A bet that involves very fancy cheese?
It’s on.
The problem is that the closer I get to Fuerte, the more I start to see that he’s actually a good guy. And the closer I get to becoming just another girl in his long line of dates.
If I fall for him, can I win more than just the ridiculous cheese bet I made with my brother? Can I actually win Fuerte’s love?
