Home > Sporting (Unleashed Romance #3)

Sporting (Unleashed Romance #3)
Author: Kylie Gilmore


After accidentally dinging a brand-new car, I’m suddenly face-to-face with an angry alpha male. And the sparks are flying.

Wait. Eli Robinson?

How’s it possible the irritating younger brother of my best friend has morphed into this gorgeous swaggering man?

I can’t let myself be tempted. Eli is off-limits. My best friend, his sister who helped raise him, makes sure I know it.

Except the more I get to know him, the more difficult it is to stay away. This can only end badly. No relationship is worth losing my best friend.

And then he kidnaps me.



Once upon a time, Jenna Larsen was my teenaged dream girl, and I mean that in the dirtiest way possible. Now that we’re adults, I discovered she’s even better than I dreamed. So I take her on a surprise trip to get away from judging eyes. An extended date of sorts. Fine. I kidnapped her.

I only hope she stops being mad long enough to give us a chance.






Don’t miss Toying! There’s an excerpt at the back of this book.






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As one of Summerdale’s finest in blue, I’m not supposed to say that people are idiots, but tonight has really tried my patience. So far on my shift, I’ve:

Caught minors with alcohol (five times). Could you at least take your crap beer into the woods where I don’t patrol? Get a clue!

Confiscated illegal fireworks (three times). Can we not blow a finger off on my watch?

Explained why people can’t park in an emergency zone (too many times to count). Idiots.

The irony is, I used to be one of those idiot rule breakers. Who better to enforce the rules than the guy who broke them all as a teen?

My shift is over, so why did I come back to the center of all the action at Lake Summerdale? Tradition. It’s the end-of-summer regatta—everyone’s out on the lake on boats with festive lights—and I wanted to watch the fireworks with the community I grew up in and love. I’m on the shore, out of uniform in a black T-shirt and jeans, leaning back against a tree to soak it in. There’s nothing like a warm summer night by the lake. So many memories here with my family, enjoying a picnic on the shore, swimming, fishing with my dad. Later, the lake was my go-to place for making out with girls. That was before I came up with the brilliant idea of stealing a car to drive to a more secluded spot for all my amorous activity. No license either, but I was a quick study.

I stand and stretch as the fireworks come to an end with one final burst of brilliant red, blue, and purple. Always a good show from the town rec department. I linger onshore, letting people clear out ahead of me. No reason to rush to the crowded parking lot over at The Horseman Inn just to sit in my car. Though my new car is a beauty, a silver Ford Mustang GT premium convertible with heated leather seats, V-8 engine, and 10-speed automatic transmission. I’ve had her two weeks, my first new car ever (the rest have been used), and she’s been a dream to drive.

Finally, the crowd thins, and I make my way along the curving lakeside path to the road. It’s close to a full moon tonight, and the silver of my Mustang glows in the moonlight. I washed her earlier today, using a special polish for a final touch, and she’s looking fine.

I cross the road, pull out my key fob, and unlock the car. The rear lights of a red Honda Accord parked in front of my car light up.

No-o-o. I watch in horror as the Honda backs right into my brand-new Mustang. I suck in air. The crunch of the Mustang’s front bumper feels like a personal hit to the solar plexus. My baby. My brand-new baby.

I rush over to inspect the damage. The front bumper is destroyed.

I gesture angrily toward the driver still in their car. “What the hell are you doing? You backed into my car!”

The door of the Honda opens, and a familiar tall blonde woman steps out. Jenna Larsen. She’s my older sister Sydney’s best friend—my onetime teen sex fantasy—looking hot as hell in a snug white T-shirt and jean shorts that show off her long legs.

None of that matters at the moment.

“You ruined my car!” I shout, gesturing to the unforgivable damage. My pride and joy that took many paychecks to cover. And the car’s not even paid off!

She glances at me before walking over to inspect the back of her car. Not my car. Hers! Like her rear bumper is the bigger issue here!

I gesture to my front bumper. “Look at this! It’s brand new, only been off the lot for two weeks!”

She looks at my dented bumper. “Calm down. It’s a little ding. I’m sure they can fix it.”

I can’t take how casual she is about this atrocity, especially after the exhausting night I’ve had. “Did you even look before you backed up?”

Her eyes shift to the side, appearing mildly guilty. “I have a backup camera. It just wasn’t working for a moment because I pressed the radio.”

I stalk closer in full authoritative cop mode, right into her personal space. She’s only a few inches shorter than my six feet, and we’re nearly eye to eye. I keep my voice level. “And you never noticed the backup camera fails to work when you start pressing buttons?”

Our gazes collide, and something changes, a primal recognition of one body to another that steals the air from my lungs. Is that lust in her eyes?

She licks her lips, and the blood rushes through my veins. She shifts away abruptly. “I’ll pay for it, okay? Just let me know how much.” She gets in her car and drives off.

I run a hand through my short hair, dazed for a moment. I’ve known Jenna for as long as I can remember. She started coming over to the house when she was five and I was three. Other than a long horny period I went through from thirteen to fourteen (okay, fifteen) where she starred in all my sex fantasies, I’ve barely given her a second look. I moved on to girls my own age, who didn’t see me as Sydney’s annoying little brother.

Back then, my mischief-making was in fine form at Sydney’s slumber parties with her three best friends—Jenna, Audrey, and Harper. I’d steal their snacks and hide around corners to scare the crap out of them. They’d get so furious at me, except Jenna. She acted like I was a mere inconvenience to an otherwise fine time. She’d pat me on the head and send me on my way. Which is to say she never took me seriously.

Whatever. I’m over her. She moved back to town last summer to open a bakery, which I never visit because I avoid sweets. I haven’t been avoiding her for a year. That would be ridiculous. We just haven’t run into each other, until she literally ran into my car.

I slowly turn back to my Mustang, focusing on the important thing here. She ruined my brand-new still-not-paid-off Mustang. Even if they fix it at the shop, she’ll never be the same.

My older brother Adam calls out to me, gesturing toward my car. He’s with his new fiancée, Kayla, looking happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. “That sucks. You’ve had it, what, two weeks?”

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