Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion

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Monday Puzzler > July 20th 2020

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Aly is so frigging bored | 857 comments Mod
I was in the mood for some new adult sports romance, and the book really deliverd! I really enjoyed the book and I hope you will too.
This is the 1st meeting between the hero and the heroine and it's really awkward but also funny{IMO}

“Well, that pretty much seals my fate.” FRIEND1 flashes her test, showing off the red F at the top of the paper. “Wanna come with me to get a drop slip?”
“No. Don’t leave me alone in here, FRIEND1. It’s only the first test. We can do this.” My attempt at a pep talk fails miserably. Probably because I’m simultaneously suppressing a groan at my own hostile red letter. Circled and underlined for emphasis. As if I needed more than the large D staring up at me as an indication I hadn’t done well on our first statistics test.
We wait for our classmates to filter out of the large auditorium, and judging by the grim expressions and mutterings about the evil professor, we aren’t the only ones who did poorly. A small comfort, I suppose.
So much for my perfect GPA, and so much for winning over Professor O’Sean. He’s the program coordinator for the accelerated MBA track that I’m applying to next year. It’s just a hunch, but I don’t think failing his class will help me get in. College hasn’t been exactly what I envisioned when FRIEND2 and I planned our futures all those years ago. Actually, that’s too bland a statement. It hasn’t been all bad, but so far, this semester royally sucks. I feel guilty for even thinking those words. It’ll all work out. I just need to buckle down and study harder. Think positive.
FRIEND1 nudges me while we trudge up the stairs. She leans in to whisper, “My last chance to ogle the man candy.”
I follow her slight head nod to the back row, which is occupied by three members of the university’s basketball team. I’d like to think I would have noticed the trio, built like the nationally ranked athletes they are, even if FRIEND1 hadn’t pointed them out each and every class. But the last month has been a haze of homework and studying. I'm not sure I would have noticed them even if they'd sat beside me. If it doesn't involve classes, caffeine, or sleep, I don't have time for it.
Their skin tone varies from light to dark, as does their hair color, but each one is tall and muscular. Decked out in athletic gear, they look like they walked off the set of a Nike commercial.
The one on the end closest to the aisle has his foot propped up on the seat in front of him, a black walking boot covering it completely from just below the knee on the right leg. His arms are crossed over his chest, and the blue Valley basketball shirt he’s wearing is bunched up around his muscular arms and pecs. A baseball cap is pulled low so it’s covering his eyes, but it doesn’t matter—it’s obvious whatever lurks below is as good as the rest.
"Why is the line moving so slow?" I step to the right to see what the holdup is. I have places to be, and it’s lunchtime. What’s the hold up?
"Slow down and appreciate the view with the rest of us," FRIEND1 retorts.
I glance ahead and behind, seeing nothing but necks careening and eyes darting to the back row. The line out of the class moves at rubberneck speed. Has this been going on since classes started three weeks ago? How had I not noticed the ovary explosion they caused? I’d assumed it was just FRIEND1 being well, FRIEND1. Apparently, no one was immune to their beefy muscles and chiseled jaw lines. Except me.
I would be proud of that fact if my grade backed up the time I’d spent not noticing hot guys. I’ve actually been paying attention to the professor. I need this class. Correction. I need an A in this class. Now, I wish I’d used my time more wisely like FRIEND1.
“Everyone is staring at them.”
“Duh, look at them. They’re the best part of this class,” FRIEND1 says loud enough that the girl behind us snickers.
She’s right about that. Each one of them is stop-and-stare worthy, but my eyes are pulled back to the guy on the end. The top half of his face is a mystery – always covered by a white university hat. But his lips are fantastic and full in a way that no lip injections could replicate.
I’m still starting at him when his teammate, the one sitting closest to him, reaches over and flips up the baseball hat, revealing a pair of heavy lids. He rights his hat and then reaches for the paper on his desk. My eyes follow his long fingers and bulge at the big red letter A that is underlined and circled just like mine. The underline and circle treatment of my D seems a lot less hostile now, so that’s something.
But what the hell? This guy is sleeping during class and still gets an A?
I’m able to focus on independent and dependent events for six minutes and fifteen seconds before I find my gaze wandering across the top of the lecture hall. My eyes go directly to the jocks. One in particular. Foot propped up on the seat in front of him, baseball hat pulled low. His teammates are next to him looking bored out of their skulls, but at least their eyes are open.
Honestly, how did this guy get an A? His tutors must be amazing.
When class is dismissed, I hurry out and then pace the sidewalk.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
I turn and face the massive fountain that sits in the center of the quad and take three deep breaths. When I turn back to Stanley Hall, it’s just in time to see the three basketball players finally emerge. Statistics is the first class I’ve had with any of our college’s nationally ranked team. They seem to stick together, though, always travelling in groups.
“Hi, excuse me.” I smile brightly and step directly into their path.
They exchange a confused look but slow down instead of trampling over me like a bug, which they could very much do.
All five feet and three inches of me stands taller. I make eye contact with each of them, trying to look friendly and not at all intimidated, which I’m not . . . nope, not at all, and then lock my gaze with the sleeper’s. He’s the shortest of the three, but the intensity of his navy blue eyes makes it hard for me to find my voice.
“I’m HEROINE, we have statistics class together.” I wave toward the building behind them in case they don’t even know what class they just came from. Apparently, I am still bitter about the grade.
“HERO,” he says as he shrugs his backpack up higher on one shoulder. “This is Joel and Z.”
“Nice to meet you.” I look to each of the guys and then back to HERO again, silently communicating he is the one I want to speak to. They don’t get the memo. “HERO, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“We’ll meet ya at the car,” Joel pipes in, and he and Z leave me alone with HERO. It’s only slightly easier to think without all three of them staring at me with rapt interest.
“What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you could tell me who does tutoring for the team? I noticed your test grade the other day, not that I was trying to see it or anything. Sorry, that sounds horrible. I just happened to glance down as I was walking by your desk. Honest mistake. Honestly."
Deep breath, HEROINE.
"Anyway, I didn’t do so well, and I really need an A in this class. Does the team have someone specifically, or do you guys use the tutor center?”
His eyebrows pull together, and he shifts his weight to his left side, making me conscious that standing here talking to me is probably causing him pain.
Join the club. This whole interaction is excruciating.
“I’m lost. You want information on the tutor center?”
The hot Arizona sun shines bright and sweat trickles down my back. “Just information on the tutor or tutors you’re using . . . for statistics.”
“You think I have a tutor?”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but it’s just you’re sleeping through class.”
He crosses his arms over his chest in a silent challenge. The neckline of his shirt pulls down, revealing a hint of tan chest underneath. Annoyed is a good look for him.
“You don’t have a tutor?” The question is no more than a mumble. Or maybe I just can’t hear it because my pulse is pounding in my ears. I open my mouth several times and then promptly close it when I can’t find the words to apologize. He smirks as he watches me grapple with the realization that I’ve made a very wrong, very humiliating assumption.
Uncrossing his arms, he takes one step in the direction his friends went. “Tutor center is on the first floor of the library.” He points in the direction of the campus library, making me feel about a foot tall. “I’m sure someone there can help.”
As I watch him walk away, admiring his gait that’s somehow sexy and confident even with the boot, I wonder—statistically speaking, of course—what are the odds that the guy sleeping at the back of the class could not only pull off an A but also manage to get that grade without help?
I have no idea, probably because I’m failing statistics. My guess, though? Not good.


message 2: by Susan (new)

Susan (shaydock) | 725 comments My deepest nightmare in my masters degree taking statistics I was so worried about the final I had three drinks before. I think the nun who corrected it was struck blind woke up later and saw no red marks and gave me an A geez and no cute football guys in a Catholic all girls school . Will read when revealed.


message 3: by Leigh-Ayn (new)

Leigh-Ayn | 1195 comments Oh this sounds like fun! Can't wait for the reveal!


message 4: by Dls (new)

Dls | 2099 comments Mod
No idea but a great reversal of stereotype


Aly is so frigging bored | 857 comments Mod
It's part of a series, and I really enjoyed it :)


message 6: by Susan (last edited Jul 21, 2020 08:55AM) (new)

Susan (susaninaz) | 1025 comments Actually, this sounds like my life. (mumble mumble) years ago, I pulled an A in a statistics class when graded against dozens of graduate students as well as the Senior valedictorian. Hmmmm. It seems that some folks grasp the concept right away while others, like heroine, struggle for every correct test answer.


Aly is so frigging bored | 857 comments Mod
The book is The Assist by Rebecca Jenshak. It's book 1 of the series and sometimes free on Amazon, that's how I discovered it :)


message 8: by Leigh-Ayn (new)

Leigh-Ayn | 1195 comments Aly is so frigging bored wrote: "The book is The Assist by Rebecca Jenshak. It's book 1 of the series and sometimes free on Amazon, that's how I discovered it :)"

Might give it a go Thanks!! x


Aly is so frigging bored | 857 comments Mod
If You do Leigh, I hope you like it


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