Title: The Assist
Series: Smart Jocks #1
Series: Smart Jocks #1
Author: Rebecca Jenshak
Genre: College Sports Romance
Cover Design: Jena Brignola
Photo: Wander Aguiar Photography
Model: Thom
Cover Design: Jena Brignola
Photo: Wander Aguiar Photography
Model: Thom
Release Date: November 5, 2018
Blurb
You know those stories where the smart girl tutors the dumb
jock? This isn’t it.
Blair
What’s the probability of insulting the one guy on campus I
need to help me pass statistics? If I knew, I wouldn’t be standing in front of
Wes Reynolds begging him to tutor me.
Basketball player, sexy, arrogant, always sleeping through
class… these are the things I knew about him. What I didn’t know is that he is
a seriously smart jock.
Wes
What’s the best way to get rid of the peppy and unrelenting
girl that keeps asking me to tutor her? If I knew, I wouldn’t be staring at her
tan legs and attempting to teach her statistics.
Sorority girl, fine as f**k, determined, ball buster… these
are the things I knew about her. What I didn’t know is that she is all the
things I didn’t realize I wanted or needed.
Or that one semester with her would change everything.
Excerpt
“Rise and shine,” Joel says as he nudges me. I’m not asleep.
I wish I were. My eyes are closed, hat pulled down, but there’s no sleep to be
had.
“She’s coming back for more.” The tone in his voice is
almost inspired.
I don’t have to look up to know who he’s talking about, but
I do anyway. She’s the most entertaining thing about this class. Open my eyes
and lift the hat, turn it backward so my view isn’t the least bit blocked.
Today she’s wearing little pink shorts that show off tan
legs, yellow tennis shoes that don’t match but somehow work, and a bracelet
with a little charm around her left ankle. It’s too small to make out, but I
stare anyway. Her brown hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, and she has a
megawatt smile plastered on her face. A big bow on top of her head is all she’d
need to look like head cheerleader of my high school fantasies.
“Wes, hey, can I talk to you for a second?”
“What’s up?”
I’m hella impressed by the balls on this chick. She’s put
her foot in her mouth, not once, but twice, and damn near insulted the entire
student athlete population, but she keeps coming back. She has determination
and grit. I admire that about her.
I also am not in the least bit offended by her assumption
that I’m a dumb jock. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised she came right
out and asked who my tutor was, but I know exactly what it looks like. I’ve fed
into the stereotype for years, doing nothing to make it seem otherwise. Well,
nothing but get straight A’s.
“I have sort of a favor.”
“What’s up?” I stand to walk with her out of the class.
“The tutor center was a bust. I know you said . . .” She
looks like she’s choosing her words carefully. “Do you have old study notes or
tests from previous semesters?”
“Still convinced I’m not capable of passing on my own, huh?”
“I’m sorry, really, no offense. I just want in on whatever
study materials you’re using. I can’t afford to fail another test. What’s your
secret?”
The secret? I’m fucking smart. Photographic memory smart and
statistics is my whole world, but I can’t resist messing with her.
“You know, saying no offense doesn’t make whatever you’re
saying less offensive. It just makes you feel better about saying something
offensive.”
Joel snickers behind me. I just can’t resist fucking with
her. She’s making it too easy.
“Sorry. I’m really so sorry. What about the other guys on
the team? Anyone have any awesome math tutors who aren’t available to us
non-jock students? I can pay.”
“Couldn’t say for sure, but I don’t think so. Most the guys
hold their own academically.” I lean in catching a whiff of her hair. It smells
good—like sugar cookies or candy canes or something sugary sweet that I want to
sink my teeth into. “Shocking, I know.”
Her shoulders slump in defeat, and I can tell she’s finally
accepted that I have no answers for her. At this point, I almost wish I knew of
someone to send her to. I don’t exactly travel in circles that clue me in on
secret study sessions and underground tutor societies.
“Thanks anyway.” She gives a little wave with the hand
clutched around the strap of her backpack.
Joel catches up to me, and we watch as she crosses the
campus toward the library. “Dude. That chick . . .”
“I know,” I say, and we continue to stare after her
completely awe stricken.
Author Bio
Rebecca Jenshak is a self-proclaimed margarita addict,
college basketball fanatic, and Hallmark channel devotee. A Midwest native
transplanted to the desert, she likes being outdoors (drinking on patios) and
singing (in the shower) when she isn't writing books about hot guys and the
girls who love them.
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