Finding the End Zone

<p><strong>Never date a player</strong>.</p><p> </p><p>Football god Callahan O'Reilly can keep his blazing blue eyes to himself. I have a scholarship to maintain and I do not have time to babysit a jock through a make-or-break class project. Even if one smoldering glance from him sets my panties on fire.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Time to change her mind.</strong></p><p> </p><p>Jamaica Winslow opens her mouth and spews sass like a volcano. One look at her uptight package and I want to coax the genie from the bottle unleash all the passion she hides beneath a mop of unruly curls and a smart-ass attitude. She's not my type she doesn't know one damn thing about the game that rules my life and I can't stop thinking about her.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Who said anything about love?</strong></p><p> </p><p>Jamaica does her best to keep me at arm's length but I'm not a pro prospect because I let the plays come to me. With the game on the line I always want the ball. When an alum with deep pockets and delusions of grandeur makes demands that threaten my NFL chances and Jamaica's scholarship I have no choice but to man up and do the right thing no matter the cost.</p><p> </p><p>It started as fun and games. Now I'm playing for her heart-and my own. </p><p> </p><p><strong>Game Time.</strong></p>