THE FADEAWAY (Smart Jocks #2) by REBECCA JENSHAK

TBB, in conjunction with Wildfire Marketing Solutions, are thrilled to share an EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT from THE TIP-OFF, the 3rd Book in the SMART JOCKS SERIES releasing 25th July!

About The Tip-Off

I’ve spent years hiding in the shadows.

He’s spent his whole life chasing the bright lights of the NBA.

We have nothing in common, except for the fact, our friends ditched us for spring break.

I have a bucket list for my senior year at Valley U.

He’s the only person I know on campus.

I’m ready to start checking things off my list.

Frat party: Check.
TP the baseball house: Check.
Goat yoga: Check.
Skinny dipping: Check.
Falling for Zeke Sweets, Valley U’s MVP: Not going to happen.

Mark on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/TheTip-Off

THE SMART JOCKS SERIES by REBECCA JENSHAK

Exclusive Excerpt from The Tip-Off

Zeke leads me into the gym on the second story of The White House.

“When I said I wanted to go somewhere quiet, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“It’s the only place off limits during parties.”

He turns on the lights and grabs two basketballs from a rack. He extends one to me and I eye it curiously. He can’t be serious.

“Really?”

He looks unsure as he gives a little shrug, ball still held out toward me. His eyes light up and he drops the ball to my feet. “Wait, I know what we need.”

Confused but intrigued, I watch as he tucks the other basketball under his arm and takes out his phone. His head bounces from side to side as his thumbs tap on the screen.

“Here we go,” he says as music pumps into the room. He pockets his phone and dribbles toward the basket.

I take a moment to look around the room, taking in the gym. I’ve seen it before, but never really appreciated how nice it is. The polished wood floor is a half-court version of the one at Ray Fieldhouse from the blue and yellow lines on the court to the Ray Roadrunner mascot painted on the wall. It’s a sweet place. Joel’s dad is the president of Valley U and he bought this place and outfitted it with everything the guys could possibly need – and way more. It’s not as outrageous as some of the big university athletic dorms, but it’s pretty over the top.

Moving up to the free throw line, I try to think back on what I learned in junior high basketball while I watch Zeke take shots. He’s more relaxed than I’ve seen him all night. Even in dress clothes, he looks like he belongs with a basketball in his hands.

“It’s a little intimidating shooting hoops with you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I make everyone look bad on the court.”

I’m taken back by his words until I meet his gaze. He’s smiling and wears a cocky grin he’s never flashed my direction before. I feel that look in my toes. “You’ve got jokes, huh?”

He shoots, rebounds his ball and then dribbles to me. “Let’s see what you got.”

Under his scrutiny, I take my time getting into position at the free throw line and then shoot. I cringe as the ball doesn’t quite make it to the rim. Airball.

Zeke gets my ball and brings it back to me. “Try again.”

“Who knew the night could get more humiliating,” I mutter under my breath, but I take another shot anyway. This one at least hits the rim.

After my fourth miss, he hands me the ball and then instructs me to widen my stance. “Good, now bring your right foot forward just a tiny bit.”

Instead of trying to talk me through the upper body, he guides my arms up and into position and then moves my hands where he wants them. Goosebumps race to the surface at his warm touch. His hands are strong and steady, and it’s a sad realization that this is the most a man has touched me since my car accident nearly four years ago.

“Alright, use your legs and really follow it through, let it roll off those fingertips.”

With more concentration and focus than I’ve used since trying to read through Game of Thrones fan theories, I stare down the red rim and shoot.

“Yes!” I jump as the ball goes through the net. Freaking finally.

“There you go. Nice. Do it again.” He sends the ball back to me with a bounce pass.

Intent brown eyes watch me as I line up and try and get into the same position.

“So, I’ve gathered parties aren’t really your thing. Is this where you usually hide out?”

“Who says I usually hide out?”

“Everyone. Also, I was in town visiting Blair for the party after the last home game of the season. I don’t remember seeing you.”

“It’s not that they aren’t my thing, I just don’t party much during the season. What about you?”

“Are parties my thing?”

He nods.

“Yes. Well, I want them to be. I’ve only been to the one and I wasn’t a student yet. So, this is my first official college party. I’m officially a fan, though. There’s something so magical about the bass of the music and people dancing and having a good time. Well, everyone but you.”

“I’m having a fine time.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special. You’re having a fine time. At least I don’t have to worry about you telling anyone how awful our date was.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you don’t talk much.”

“Burn,” he says and his lips curve into another smile. “I’m a man of few words.” Palming the ball in one hand he raises it toward me like he’s pointing. “How about the best date I’ve been on in four years?”

“Well, then you’d just be lying.”

He raises a brow and then turns to shoot without speaking.

I dribble and bring the ball up, pausing before I send the ball sailing to the basket. “This is the only date you’ve been on since then, isn’t it?”

I remember the guys giving him shit once about never dating, but I’d assumed they were exaggerating the situation.

He winks and keeps rebounding his ball and putting it back. He’s gotten into it now and is shooting like he’s at practice. Basketball in dress clothes – it’s a good look.

“So, parties aren’t your thing, dating isn’t your thing, what is your thing?” He opens his mouth to tell me what I already know, but I stop him. “Besides basketball.”

He shakes his head. “It’s my only thing.”

“If you had to give up food or basketball, which would you choose?”

He dribbles as he answers. “I’d die without food.”

“Some things are worth dying for.”

About the Author

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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