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That’s me––Tingly Simmons––athlete, foreign-language major, professor lover, obsessed idiot girl. Definitely not a frat rat or sorority slut. I’ve never even played beer pong.
I ditched the vapid, soulless high-society life of Los Angeles for the promise of something more meaningful in rural Ohio. Accepting a track scholarship for college, I tried running my way to happiness, but instead I ended up sleeping with my French professor and falling head over heels for him.
When that relationship fell apart, so did I.
Barely hanging on by a thread and using the most absurd coping skills, I was determined to hide behind my past indiscretions. That was, until I met Tiberius Jones. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d learn the truth about love from a six-foot-five basketball player.
Wow, this story was an unexpected highlight of my reading
week. Two people, who you could not find more opposite as far as their
upbringing and culture, who just seem so right for each other.
Tingly (yep, that's her name) has made a lot of mistakes in
her past and carries them around with her like a cloak.She is trying to keep her head down and just
blend in quietly now that she is back at college.She has a very disfunctional, estranged relationship
with her family and is pretty much alone in life.
"I was hungry for
contact.I'd starved myself for so long."
Tiberious is a beautiful young man, in every way.He has a sweet disposition and is very
intuitive.He is a basketball player so
very tall and muscular in physique.So
yeah, not bad to look at either.He is
not like the other guys in his team who always seem to be looking for the next
girl they can hook up with.
He sees in Tingly what she can't see in herself.She is not like the other girls, who only
want to know him because of who he is and what they can get out of it.He isn't interested in her past
mistakes.He is intrigued by her and
cannot stop thinking about her.
'Leave you past where it
belongs.... in the dirt.If you're gonna
run, run to me,
to your future, to being happy.' -
Tingly continually doubts herself and puts up walls faster
than a master builder.She thinks she is
not good enough for him and sooner or later he will realise it too.Her self-talk is her downfall. Tiberious had
no idea he was looking for a girl like Tingly until he found her, when you
least expect it, you find your person, the one.
"You can push and shove and
run and whatever other stupid shit you want,
but I'm coming for you." - Tiberious
Tingly feels so much uncertainty and she just needs to
embrace it, trust in Tiberious and see herself through his eyes.I loved how Tiberious was so patient with
Tingly and let her figure things out at her own pace.Nothing was rushed, it just slowly grew
between them and was just so damn sweet to read.
I loved this story so much.It was a breath of fresh air, completely unique story and I could not
put it down until I was done.
I give this 4 stars
'Everything was better when it
He stood there patiently, grinning as he waited for me to move through the doorway or answer him, and pinned me with his unusual blue eyes, so pale in his handsome face against his deep brown skin. His gaze seared right through me, just like it had earlier, before dinner in the courtyard.
Completely unnerved, I didn’t respond. His size was daunting, his large frame loomed over the threshold, and I was struck speechless. Uncertain whether it was his obvious good looks that threw me, or the overtly friendly wide grin on display, I simply stood there for a moment, trying to figure out his angle.
As I took in his long athletic shorts, tight gray athletic hoodie, and the pair of spiky Air Jordan slides on his feet, his left eyebrow cocked up at me like I was the next sideshow. Well, I’d already played that act countless times at home, including but not limited to last year when I was caught with the professor’s dick deep inside me. Now I was all about slipping under the radar, getting by silently and with little fuss.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, his deep voice interrupting my thoughts. “I’m talking to you . . . you coming in? I’m over here holding the door.”
His pale blue eyes scanned my brown ones as his smile faded. I imagined him knowing who I was and what I did, perhaps mentally undressing me one piece of clothing at a time, wanting to give the slut a whirl.
Oh God, was my name being passed around—again?
Self-disgust consumed me, spurring me to action. “Um, yeah. I am,” I answered, averting my gaze as I shifted my backpack up on my shoulder and stomped through the doorway.
I turned ever so slightly to witness him ducking to fit through the doorframe. It was crazy how insanely tall this guy was. Obviously, he was a basketball player, probably with a huge ego to boot.
I managed to mutter, “Thanks,” as I swept past him, and the door clanged shut behind us.
“Bad day?” he called after me.
What was with him being all smiling and friendly? Was he for real, or was he trying to bait me? I couldn’t help my self-doubt; skepticism was woven so deeply into my personality, I questioned everyone’s motives.
“Bad life,” I tossed back without thinking. For some reason, I felt the need to share my feelings with this stranger, and it scared the shit out of me.
So I did what came naturally to me—I ran. As I sprinted toward the elevator, I caught him heading toward the staircase out of the corner of my eye. I got off on my floor feeling relieved until I heard a heavy pair of footsteps coming around the corner.
Rachel Blaufeld is a social worker/entrepreneur/blogger turned author. Fearless about sharing her opinion, Rachel captured the ear of stay-at-home and working moms on her blog, BacknGrooveMom, chronicling her adventures in parenting tweens and inventing a product, often at the same time. She has also blogged for The Huffington Post, Modern Mom, and StartupNation. She currently shares her reading recommendations on HEA at USA Today.
Turning her focus on her sometimes wild-and-crazy creative side, it only took Rachel two decades to do exactly what she wanted to do—write a fiction novel. Now she spends way too many hours in local coffee shops plotting her ideas. Her tales may all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but end lusciously.
Rachel lives around the corner from her childhood home in Pennsylvania with her family and two dogs. Her obsessions include running, coffee, icing-filled doughnuts, antiheroes, and mighty fine epilogues.