Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
**DELUXE LIMITED EDITON with interior 4-color character art, designed chapter headers, and stenciled edges!**
Chelsea Parker, 26, knows football, thanks to growing up with a football coach for a father and two linebackers for brothers. But Chelsea’s true passion has always been math: crunching numbers to predict statistical outcomes for everything from football to stocks to romance. Chelsea dreams of merging her two passions to become the first female head of analytics for an NFL team. But for now, she’s got to convince the powers-that-be at her father’s new team, the Mastodons, the worst in the NFL, to give her that entry-level position in the front office.
Luca Maguire, 26, a pass rusher and adrenaline junkie with a famous last name, knows this upcoming training camp with his new team, the Mastodons, will likely be his last, if he can’t get out of his own way long enough to make the cut. The dire nature of his circumstances is the only reason Luca didn’t quit on the spot when Coach Parker assigned his daughter, Chelsea, a statistics-loving, spreadsheet-making math nerd, as Luca’s “personal coach” for the duration of camp. More like his babysitter, if you ask Luca.
Well, okay, Luca didn’t quit for that reason and another one: the thing that happened seven years ago between Luca and Chelsea as strangers, when Luca’s college football team stayed at the same hotel as Chelsea’s mathletes squad. Luca would never admit this to Chelsea, especially not with her being Coach’s daughter and the newly assigned bane of his existence, but the truth is Luca hasn’t stopped thinking about that cute little mathlete who ditched his ass seven years ago, right before their clothes came off, ever since
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Chelsea
Bloomington, Indiana
“LOOKS LIKE OUR serenity is about to get shattered by a pack of starving hyenas.” Daisy snorts. “They’re hot, though. I’ll give ’em that.”
My new friend’s comment prompts me to look up from the color-coded spreadsheet I’m working on for our math team. A college football team—Nebraska’s, based on the logos printed on their T-shirts and sweats—has blasted into the breakfast area of our budget hotel.
“You think they’re a team of some kind?” Daisy asks innocently, surveying the rowdy young men as they raucously descend upon the tepid buffet offerings and jockey to pile soggy scrambled eggs onto paper plates.
I smirk to myself, amused but not surprised my friend hasn’t instantly recognized this breed of athletic young men as football players. For my part, thanks to my upbringing, I’m already mentally sorting them into their positions on the football field, based on body type: running backs, receivers, cornerbacks, offensive linemen, and so on. And let’s not forget my all-time favorite position: linebackers. Better yet if they’re an outside linebacker. And better still if a guy is an OLB that’s an edge rusher—the guy tasked with breaking through the opposing offensive line and taking down his opponent’s quarterback. Yum.
“Maybe they’re a wrestling team?” Daisy offers nonchalantly, her gaze continuing to drift across the testosterone-laden chaos.
Her suggestion is ludicrous, quite frankly, but I refrain from saying so. Daisy knowing I come from a die-hard football family that includes a head coach and two NFL players is one thing; scaring her off by saying something that could make me sound like a know-it-all blowhard would be another.
Daisy’s the only good friend I’ve made so far since starting at Northwestern two months ago, and I’d really like to continue building the friendship. Daisy’s the sort of person I’ve always dreamed of having in my life—a fun, wild-child type—so I’m determined not to give her the ick by revealing Stat-Keeping Football Fanatic Chelsea too early.
“I feel like they’re most likely football players,” I murmur vaguely.
“Well, if anyone would know about that, it’s you.” Daisy scans the melee for another long beat. “Although I’m kinda thinking they look like soccer players.”
I press my lips together. Those are football physiques, as surely as my name is Chelsea Parker. Also, Indiana’s campus is only a few miles away, and today is Saturday—game day in the world of college football. Plus, they’ve all got NEBRASKA plastered all over their clothes, and that particular university is in the Big Ten Conference, along with Indiana, which means the two schools are likely opponents in today’s game. So, put all those facts together, along with the approximate number of them being exactly what I’d expect to see for a traveling football team, and there’s not a doubt in my mind those young men are Nebraska’s football players, come to Bloomington as the visiting team for today’s home game at Indiana.
I don’t feel the need to convince Daisy I’m right, however, so I simply shrug and return to my spreadsheet. But only a few seconds later, Daisy pokes my arm and whispers, “Hey, do any of those hotties catch your eye?” She waggles her eyebrows. “I know you said you don’t want a boyfriend for at least a couple years, but maybe you could have your first fling tonight after the competition.” She smiles mischievously. “I bet any of those boys would be more than willing to make out with you for your first time.” She snickers. “Or with me for my twentieth.”
I roll my eyes and return to my spreadsheet. “You do you, Daisy. But that’s not what I came here for. I came to win.”
“Why can’t we do both?”
I look up from my screen. “Even if I were going to let myself get distracted like that, why would I do it with someone I’d never see again? They’re Cornhuskers, Daisy. From Nebraska.”
“That’s exactly my point. You could have some fun checking off some of those boxes you keep talking about and never have to worry about the guy turning into a cling-on and suddenly thinking he’s got the right to tell you what to do.”
She’s parroting my own words back to me. That’s what I told her during freshman orientation when the topic of boyfriends came up, because that’s how it went down for two of my best friends from back home, once they got their first boyfriends. After living under the watchful, protective eyes of my father and two big brothers my whole life, why would I want any man thinking he’s got a say in what I do, now that I’m finally free and on my own?
“Well, regardless, I couldn’t possibly do that tonight because I’m one hundred percent positive we’ll make it into the finals, which means we’ll need to come back here and prepare as much as humanly possible before getting to bed at a reasonable hour so we maximize brain function with a full eight hours of sleep.” As Daisy well knows, the top six teams in today’s first round of the competition will advance to tomorrow’s finals, and it’d take an act of God to keep a team like ours out of them.