Page 1 of A Game of Ruck
Prologue-Luca
Consequence,North Carolina.
“Love’s like a ruck.You get knocked down, but if you want to win, you have to get back in there—braced, steady, and ready to fight like hell for the ball or the girl.”
That’s what my college rugby coach told me right after my then-girlfriend, Isabella Swenton, dumped me.
For Mitchell bloody Knight.
Yeah.That Mitchell Knight.
Rugby golden boy.
Billionaire.
Now he’s the owner of the Carolina Rovers.
The brand new Major League Rugby team I just happen to play for.
Coincidence?I wish.
FML.
Look, Mitchell’s not a bad guy.
He’s charming.
He’s smart.
He’s got cheekbones that make women spontaneously ovulate and a Rolex for every day of the week.
He doesn’t even gloat—he doesn’t have to.
And these days, he’s too busy building his rugby empire to remember I exist.
Which would be fineifI wasn’t currently being auctioned off like some shirtless steak dinner to promote his shiny new team.
I blame Koa Jackson.
Or his girl, Finley, since she’s the one who came up with this harebrained scheme.
Auctioning rugby players for dates?
The pretty little redhead must have lost her ever-loving mind.
How the hell did I get roped into this?
Well, that part’s easy.
It was in the fine print, right there on my contract.
Somewhere, in like 6-point font, way down on the bottom after all the dizzying dollar signs.
The player agrees to participate in obligatory marketing campaigns and events to promote the team and the sport.
I’m not sure when it was exactly that I began regretting this decision.
Maybe it was the third press junket where no one asked me a single question about my tackles, but they all wanted to know how many crunches I do a day.
