🎾𝑬𝑿𝑪𝑬𝑹𝑷𝑻 𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑨𝑳 🎾
𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 by USA Today bestselling author Ginger Scott releases next week. Check out this sneak peek!
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What to expect:
🎾College Sports Romance
🎾Fake Dating
🎾Enemies to Lovers
🎾Coming of Age
Excerpt:
I stuff my equipment into the locker as Taryn pivots, eyeing the names on the doors until she comes back to her own.
“Looks like we’re neighbors.” I push my locker shut and lean against the wood, out of the door’s path.
Her bleached blond hair is woven into dozens of tight braids, the metal ends of her septum ring poking out. I’m surprised she didn’t just push the tips up to hide it. I’m sure it’s why Coach spent five minutes listing the types of jewelry she will not allow during match play. Septum rings? Number one.
“We’re gonna be tight, me and you.” Taryn’s raspy voice has that tinge of coastal salt air that comes from growing up on the beach. I’ve researched everyone in my incoming recruitment class. Two girls from Minnesota, one from a small town in upstate New York—she was ranked fourth in the nation for our year—and Taryn, a Southern California native who can’t play the net but serves like a machine.
I feel solid about my head-to-head challenges against anyone in my class, and our upperclassmen haven’t been the strongest competitors the last two seasons, so despite Taryn’s scoffing at the idea, I’m confident I’ll be able to crack the starting squad this year.
I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth as I study my neighbor, a chain hooking a wallet into the back pocket of her baggy jeans, her well-worn canvas shoes torn in places that look intentional. She’s California cool, ripped right from a longboard ad. I’m not good at making friends—I see everyone as competition—but maybe we can be allies. For a while. Until I need to beat her.
“You want to walk over to the union together?” Taryn gives her locker an extra bump with her hip, stuffing her oversize bag inside, and I nod.
The juniors and seniors on our squad are probably already there. The wonder and newness of Cordon’s campus has probably worn off for them. Taryn seems less awed than I am, likely because she grew up in a place where moss grows on everything and misty clouds paint the sky at dusk and dawn. When you come from the tumbleweeds and gravel landscapes of Phoenix like I do, anything green wows the soul. I’m not sure I’ll ever be tired of life here.
Taryn holds the tall glass door open for me as I enter the massive mission-style building. The intense smell of buttered popcorn assaults my nose the second I step onto the tiled floor.
“I guess we know what they meant by snacks,” I joke.
Both of us tilt our heads up and to the left, following the scent. My mouth waters instantly.
“You want some? I’ll grab two,” she says, spotting the vendor on the opposite end of the room.
“Please.” Okay, maybe we’ll be good allies.
As Taryn skips away, I scan the sea of tables in search of my teammates or an area marked for tennis. I wander up a few steps to my right, hoping to get a better view. In my distraction, I smack headfirst into a broad and incredibly hard chest, which knocks me off balance enough for my foot to slip from the edge of one of the steps. I yelp and flail, grabbing hold of Mr. Muscular’s backpack strap as I fall. He tugs on the opposite strap to keep me on my feet, but the bag’s zipper gives way, and I end up on my ass alongside a black Storm Football backpack and a pair of very large sneakers.
“Are you okay, Crash?” the body with the chest and feet says, and the one recruit everyone in this room knows hunches down and reaches out his hand.
My face is hot, and I’m sure it’s as red as the Saltillo tiles, which did very little to soften my fall. Bryson Moss isn’t just a big deal at Cordon. He’s the immediate favorite for the Heisman, the heir apparent of a football team coming off the heels of a playoff run, and the guy on my little brother’s cereal box. I literally stared at his face while I drained a bowl of frosted oats a few days ago before my parents drove me here. The number one freshman recruit in the country, and he picked Cordon over so many bigger football powerhouses. I read he was a legacy at Texas Tech, but he chose Cordon knowing he’d get to start his freshman year. If he’s as good as his reputation, my gut says he’ll hit the transfer portal after showing the world what he can do this season. I doubt it’s about money for him, given the millions tied to his family name. My guess is he’s playing for the fame. His family owns oil fields in Oklahoma—more specifically, a few thousand acres of them. Bryson hasn’t just been the big headline for every media outlet’s sports section. He’s been trending in the business ones too.
“How funny would it be if my first visit to the athletic trainer was because I injured myself committing a personal foul against our star quarterback?” The words spill out amid nervous laughter, and taking Bryson’s hand only makes my arm go numb as I steady myself back on my feet.
His green eyes and dimples stand out on a face marked by a perfect jaw, a hint of stubble, and a dusting of freckles that span the bridge of his nose. His sandy-brown hair sweeps to the side but doesn’t lie quite flat, and the dark-blue Cordon Football tee looks as if it were cut specifically for every curve of his muscles—or simply painted on his skin.
“Probably about as funny as if my first penalty for targeting was because I knocked out the cute girl on our tennis team.”
Cute. That word carries more weight coming from his mouth. Or maybe it’s just because I’m not normally the girl that word is thrown at. Probably a bit of both.
Blurb:
Tennis is my life. Work hard. Win clean. Trust no one but yourself. That’s how you become number one.
Too bad Cordon University only worships Bryson Moss—the golden boy quarterback I’ve despised since our train wreck of a first meeting three years ago.
Now he wants a favor I can’t afford to refuse. His sister’s dating app needs a power couple for launch, and I need the cash to stay in school.
The contract is simple: fake the romance, fool the internet, cash the checks.
Except our chemistry isn’t fake. The banter, the tension, the way he looks at me when no one’s watching—it’s all devastatingly real. When we go viral, the pressure intensifies. And when my body betrays me on the court, threatening everything I’ve worked for, Bryson won’t let me quit.
I’ve always believed champions stand alone.
But what if falling for my enemy is the bravest thing I’ve ever done?
Add to your TBR: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/247615693-break-point
Find more books by Ginger Scott here: www.littlemisswrite.com
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