Release Tour, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway:

Schooling the Jock
By Eli Easton & Tara Lain

Nerds Vs Jocks, Book 1

Only an unfair universe makes a guy who’s that gorgeous so damned obnoxious.

A-hoe!
Poindexter!
Snarky, superbrain Dobbs and snooty football star Jesse stare at each other from their rival frat houses on opposites sides of the street — and opposite sides of everything else.

Alpha Lambda Alpha and Sigma Mu Tau have been sworn enemies for decades. Then one disastrous prank proves to be the last straw, and the college dean blows his cork!

Work together or lose both your houses.

Question – -How can Dobbs win his coveted Quiz Bowl championship with when he’s forced to put a dumb jock on his team?
Answer — Lots of personal schooling.

But when personal becomes very personal, Jesse risks causing his overtaxed family one more huge worry and the running back starts running.

Will Dobbs give up on the shocked jock, or show him that the answer to the big question is, Yes?

SCHOOLING THE JOCK is an enemies-to-lovers, opposites attract, campus romance – with one hell of a lightning round.

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Jesse

I followed Tray who followed Rand who followed Jax and the rest of the SMTs out of the dean’s office, down the stairs, and onto the sunny quad. We were all so angry you could practically see the air around us vibrating. I felt like I was in a swarm of killer bees.

So help me, if this ended in a fist fight and jeopardized all our futures, I was driving to Iowa tonight and getting a job at the granary. Somedays it was too much trouble to try.

I must have been dragging my feet because Tray glanced over his shoulder. “Come on, Jesse. We need you. This is crap. Pure crap.”

Tray was a pretty balanced guy on most topics, which was one of the reasons I liked him, but when something threatened his beloved flag football, time to hide from the wrath of Tray. He was the ALAs star player and captain of the team. Hell, he loved flag football even more than girls, and for Tray, that was saying something. Funny how I’d ended up best friends with the straightest guy on campus.

By the time I caught up with the group, Rand was nose-to-nose with Jax on the lawn, and they’d begun to gather a crowd. They were quite a pair—Rand, a big, blond Adonis, and Jax, a scruffy, bearded hipster—both looking ready to throw down right now and possibly fight to the death. Most of the students at Madison knew about the ALA/SMT rivalry. My brothers harbored the belief that the student body thought we were badasses. Me? I thought the whole thing was pretty juvenile and figured a lot of the students felt the same way.

I ran the last few steps because Tray was looming over those two SMTs, the ones who’d started the fire. Billings and Johnson were their names. I’d only ever seen them side by side around campus. Since Tray was six foot two, almost the same height as me, and the two dudes barely topped five foot nine and were skinny, they were about to become road rash.

Tray yelled, “What the fuck were you two thinking with that microwave crap? Thirty minutes? I thought you Poins were supposed to be smart. Now you’ve pushed Robberts too far, and we’re screwed! Two of your pansy asses on my flag-football team? Not in this life, you feel me? Tell him, Rand. They can’t wreck my team. It’s the best we’ve ever had.” He took another menacing step forward, but his expression was pleading.

Rand gave me a look, and I put a soothing hand on Tray’s arm. He was usually so chill, he didn’t even realize when he got scary.

Tray looked at me, his eyes wide, but he took a breath and calmed down. Tray didn’t have that much to lose. He was rich to go with the gorgeous. But as a senior, he needed to graduate and get on with making his family fortune bigger. He didn’t need to get expelled for taking out two useless Poins with fifty witnesses.

Rand said, “Hey, man, I hear you, but I don’t think we have a choice here. If the dean disbands the fraternities, then the flag team goes with it. Better some wussy Poins than no team at all.”

Dobbs opened his mouth. Because of course he did. His mouth was his reason to live. He was high up in SMT, that much I knew. And he was the dark-hair-with-glasses librarian type that really tugged my chain. But he was also a grade-A smart-ass and, honestly, a bit intimidating. He sneered at Tray. “Listen, Jock Itch, you’ve got no problems since no one gives a flying freak about flag football. I have to suffer two, count them two, of your muscle-brained idiots on my Quiz Bowl team, and we had a good chance to win the collegiate championship this year. That means big prestige to the university—”

“Ha!” Tray had taken enough of Dobbs’s big mouth. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” He spat out each laugh individually, and I grinned. “You don’t seriously think anyone cares about nerdy Quiz Bowl, do you? Except maybe your blue-haired granny. Does she keep a picture of your trophy on her fridge?”

A couple kids in the crowd laughed. They’d naturally side with the ALAs over the SMTs since who likes brainiacs, but I’d actually watched some of the Quiz Bowl tournaments online, and while I’d never admit it to anyone, they were kind of cool—exciting and challenging.

Dobbs’s brown eyes bugged behind his glasses. “I suppose you wouldn’t know since you’ve probably never watched anything except ESPN, but people all over the world love Quiz Bowl. It’s an international academic standard.” His voice kept getting louder. “Yale, Harvard, all the top schools participate. Fuck, Harvard even got banned one year for cheating.”

Tray faked a cough while muttering, “Losers.”

I barked a laugh, and Tray gave me a low fist bump.

Dobbs wrapped himself in his imagined cloak of dignity. “Right. Because who wants to actually know things when you can run around a field tagging somebody’s flag.” For some reason, he glanced at me, and the connection gave me a jolt. Probably because Dobbs was openly gay, so even being noticed by him made me wonder if I was pinging his gaydar. I’d also have to work at not jerking off that night to the idea of Dobbs tagging my flag. He might be the mouth that roared, but damn. I could imagine hotter uses for that mouth.

Jax held up a hand. “Guys, this isn’t getting us anywhere.” He puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled like he was out of fucks to give. If that was true, he was in for a world of hurt. This pooch screw had just gotten started. “The dean doesn’t understand the Quiz Bowl rules. Untested contestants aren’t supposed to be in division one, but he wants one on each team. Can we get permission, Dobbs?”

“I dunno. I’ll call NAQT and find out. Right after I commit ritual hara-kiri.” He glared at Billings and Johnson, like he might help Tray beat them up for their stupid popcorn stunt. “But I’m not sure what the point is. No way we’ll even place with some f-ing football players on the team.”

I looked up, startled, to find Dobbs’s gaze on me. His lips parted as if he might want to fire off another insult, but wisely, he refrained. Clearly, football was Dobbs’s least favorite F word.

“Come on, Dobbs. It’s trivia!” Tray said sarcastically. “How freaking hard can it be? You’ll probably do better with our guys on your team. We, on the other hand, are going to be hamstrung with two useless players.” He waved his hands in the air and took on a mincing voice. “Ooh, there’s a ball flying toward my face. Whatever shall I do?”

“Hey, we have plenty of guys who know their way around a ball in our house!” Dobbs insisted. Then he raised a sardonic eyebrow at his own unintentional double entendre.

Do not think about Dobbs and balls. Do not think about Dobbs and balls.

The crowd was now laughing aloud at the insults. People were actually taking videos. The whole confrontation was headed straight for Snapchat, or worse, Instagram. I just hoped the dean was a social media Luddite.

Rand said, “Why don’t you Poindexters put your money where your mouth is? I bet you…I bet you the cost of our kitchen repairs that our players do better on your team than your players do on ours.”

Huh?

Jax and Dobbs looked at each other. The crowd started chanting, “Bet, bet, bet!”

I tugged on Rand’s arm, and the four of us ALA brothers stepped back and huddled.

“Hold up a minute, Rand,” I said. “Do we have ten grand in the house account? Because I’m not gonna be coughing up hundreds of dollars for this.” This was a terrible idea. Unlike some of the house bros, like Tray and Rand, my family wasn’t swimming in money.

“Don’t worry,” Rand said confidently. “We’ve totally got this. Like Tray said, their stupid game is trivia. How hard can it be?”

“Yeah, Jesse. Anyway, I dig it!” Tray’s eyes were lit up in that happy-Tray way for the first time today. “If there’s no skin in the game, they’ll give us any old guys. But if there’s a bet, they’ll have to pick their best players.”

“That assumes they have any decent players,” Rex snorted.

Tray shrugged. “Isn’t there a swimmer in their house? And I see a few of them at the gym.”

Rand nodded. “Good thinking, Tray. Mainly, though, I just want to make that Dobbs eat his words. He’s such a little prick. So, we’re agreed?” He held out a fist.

Tray and Rex nodded and bumped it, so I reluctantly did too. He’d never answered my question about where the 10K was gonna come from if we lost. But the group broke up, and Rand faced the SMTs. “So are you guys in or are you chicken?”

“We’re in,” Jax said steadily, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, we’re in,” Dobbs agreed. He smirked in a suspiciously smug way. It took me a moment to realize why. They’d just made a bet that would get them out of paying for the kitchen if they won. And if they lost? They’d already been going to pay for the kitchen anyway.

I bit back a groan. So far, Poins 1, ALA 0. But I couldn’t humiliate my bros in front of the crowd by saying that.

“Cool. We’ll let you know who we’ve picked for your team tomorrow,” Jax sneered.

“Ditto,” Rand growled.

The SMTs turned and started to walk away. Weirdly, Dobbs gave me another glance, and I shivered, which was fucking stupid. Meanwhile, people in the crowd were placing side bets. Great. Not only did we have to put up with two nerds on our flag-football team, now the whole school would be watching.

 

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About Eli:

Coming from a background in computer game design, Eli has written over 35 books in m/m romance since 2013. The Mating of Michael (2014) and A Second Harvest (2016) both won The William Neale Award for Best Gay Contemporary Romance, and Eli’s books have won many awards from the Goodreads M/M Romance Group’s Reader’s Choice Awards. She is best known for her Christmas romances, the Howl at the Moon series of rom coms featuring dog shifters, and her Sex in Seattle series, which revolves around a sex clinic in Seattle.

Connect with Eli:
www.elieaston.com
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Twitter: @elieaston

About the Author:

Tara Lain believes in happy ever afters – and magic. Same thing. In fact, she says, she doesn’t believe, she knows. Tara shares this passion in her stories that star her unique, charismatic heroes and adventurous heroines. Quarterbacks and cops, werewolves and witches, blue collar or billionaires, Tara’s characters, readers say, love deeply, resolve seemingly insurmountable differences, and ultimately live their lives authentically. After many years living in southern California, Tara, her soulmate honey and her soulmate dog decided they wanted less cars and more trees, prompting a move to Ashland, Oregon where Tara’s creating new stories and loving living in a small town with big culture. Tara loves animals of all kinds (even snakes), diversity, open minds, coconut crunch ice cream from Zoeys, and her readers.

She has around 57 books published or scheduled for publication.

Connect with Tara:
Website: https://taralain.com/
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