Wereball: Hate At First Text

Fate doesn’t send a warning text.
And what happens when the werewolf you can’t stand becomes the werewolf you can’t live without?

As a neurosurgery student, I, Yvaine Mackenzie, have only one thing on my brain—well, the brain.
Born werewolf, but with a self-prescribed immunity to the whole fated-mate concept, I never speculated how I would meet my other half. My life is already packed to the brim with surgical precision: textbooks, hospital shifts, matcha dates with my roommates, and making sure my twin brother—aka, our college’s famous team captain—leaves the wereball field with all his limbs intact.
That’s right, wereball—the unnecessarily aggressive sport comparable to human football but with no refs, no penalties, and no protective gear. Or as I like to call it, uncivilized, primitive, and a waste of medical supplies.
Everything fits perfectly into my color-coded agenda… until one night I innocently lend out my phone and receive the filthiest message from an anonymous rival player. Figures, as he’s the most arrogant, irritating, and ill-mannered person I’ve never met. And my REM-sleep has never been the same.
Though somewhere between late-night texting and morning bickering, the shockingly perceptive mystery man I renamed “Rudolph” becomes my closest confidante.
But we can’t hide behind our screens forever. The more our friendship deepens, the closer we draw toward catastrophic secrets and one undeniable truth—how we accidentally texted destiny into existence.

When everything explodes…will I be able to forgive him?
If I’d known one silly text would tilt the axis of my life? I would’ve done some cardio. Strengthened my heart. Kept a defibrillator with me. All the time.