Today I am so pleased to welcome Neve Wilder to Joyfully Jay. Neve has come to talk to us about her latest release, Show Me (which I reviewed here and loved). She has also brought along a great giveaway. Please join me in giving her a big welcome!
In addition to me, there must have been something wrong with my desk, because Jesse kept glancing over at it.
“You don’t like my screensaver?” It was a pic of a golden retriever in a headset and sunglasses. Dumb, maybe, but surely not offensive in any way.
“The screensaver is fine, though a little dorky. Way better than a screensaver of yourself on the football field, though. Or a girl in a tiny bikini sitting on the hood of a car.” He cracked a tiny smile.
“That’ll be my next one.”
“That bottle of water right there is driving me crazy, though. Aren’t you afraid of knocking it over and frying your computer?”
I’d totally forgotten about it. “Didn’t know you were so fastidious about your tech. The cap’s on tight, I’m sure.”
“Really, because—” He snapped his mouth shut with a shake of his head. “Never mind. I’m sure it’s fine.”
I set down my pencil and propped my chin on my fist. “Okay, did I fuck up something recently? Piss you off? Say something dumb? Because you’re acting weird, and I’m driving myself crazy trying to figure it out. I know I ate all the Rotel dip last week, but it was really fucking good and I was starving. I threw an extra tenner on the counter for groceries, too.” I wouldn’t tell my mom, but his Rotel dip had kicked her Rotel’s ass, then shoved it in a locker and slammed the door in its face. I’d always thought Rotel was pretty simple, so I hadn’t even known it was possible to improve upon the standard recipe, but it was. I’d stood at the kitchen counter and finished it off like a total sloth.
“You do consume massive amounts of food,” Jesse agreed. “And it’d be a lot nicer if you asked sometimes because…hmm.” He pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes, seemingly at himself. “Fuck, that’s not it. It’s…” He winced, and I figured it must be pretty bad if he was going to the trouble of that many facial expressions over it. “Nope, never mind. Let’s stick to statistics.” He thumped a page in his study packet. “What’d you get for number five?”
“A legit answer out of you.” I folded my arms over my chest stared Jesse down, unblinking. Accompanied by my size, the blinkless stare was one of my best intimidation tactics on the field, but Jesse canted his head, mouth curving in what seemed like amusement.
“Impressive. Unfortunately for you, the big jock schtick has never worked on me. I cut my teeth outrunning guys your size who thought they were way faster than they actually were.”
“Damn, really?” I tried to remember where he was from. I was pretty sure it was a smallish town nearby. I’d grown up in a liberal suburb of Charlotte, and my school had been the same. Around tenth grade everyone had seemed to grow out of caring about someone’s sexuality. I knew it wasn’t that way everywhere, though, and I kind of hated imagining Jesse being chased down by a bunch of homophobic thugs.
His grin broke wider. “Nah, I’m messing with you. Usually I was the one chasing them back then, hoping for a little something-something under the bleachers—top five fantasy, bleachers—” He splayed his hands with cinematic flourish. “But unfulfilled to this day, sadly. Anyway, what I’m saying is, you can’t intimidate me. What. Did. You. Get. For. Number. Five?”
I looked down at my paper and blew out a breath. Fine. “Fifty-seven percent.”
We moved on through the study guide, went over some of the prep questions, and then ran through a few flash cards he’d made.
Jesse shoved aside his computer. “I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Agreed,” I said and settled back on the bed. Jesse’s gaze strayed over my crotch, so I glanced down to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. Sometimes things went sideways when freeballing.
He pressed his lips together and when our eyes met, blinked quickly away, and squeezed them shut as if he was in enormous pain.
“Are you okay?” I stared at him with growing concern. My first aid skills were a little rusty.
Jesse popped his eyes open. “Goddammit, I know you’re spankit4u and I can’t even look at you now because I know I’m not supposed to know, and your dick is huge—just like you said it was— though I didn’t believe you at the time, and—” He covered his face and let out another pained sound that was a cross between a keen and dramatic groan as I felt the blood drain from my face. “I’ve been jerking off to your solo sessions for weeks, and I feel like a total fucking perv. I’m obviously not doing that anymore, since I found out it was you—the jerking off part, I mean—because that would be totally fucking weird, right? But I was definitely doing it before and I…that’s awkward. I’m still probably a perv any way you cut it.”
I digested all of that in shocked silence. I’d been careful to never show my face. I had few identifying marks on my body. No tattoos or unique birthmarks. Nothing crazy memorable. “What…which…how—?” Now was the moment my brain cells chose to abandon me.
“When I got your conditioner that day, I almost knocked a water bottle over and in the process of trying not to fry your computer, woke it up and saw the Pornhub page. I didn’t really think of it until I saw the video you posted from Mark’s parents’ house. Remember when I ran into you when you were in that bathroom with the red wallpaper and that weird gold tissue box?”
“Shit.” I hadn’t even been thinking about it. I’d been thinking about Jesse and John and draft picks. I had no recollection of a gold tissue box.
Jesse dragged his hand down one side of his face. “I know, tell me about it. I blush every time I look at you now. I snarked at you about dick size and…you totally weren’t lying. Now when I look at you, I think about how I know you like to play with that notch when you—” He put his hands over his bright red face. “See?”
Mortification tried to surge up inside me, but I tamped it down, and an unexpected laugh bubbled out in its place. He was right. I’d never even noticed before, but when I thought about it, I absolutely gravitated to that little divot in my crown when I was getting myself hard.
Jesse peeked at me through a crack in his fingers. “You’re laughing?”
Two Roommates. One Camera. A whole lot of action.
I get crushes the way some people get seasonal allergies.
And sharing a house with four hot roommates is like being stuck in permanent spring.
Too bad I keep getting friend-zoned.
But it’s senior year now, and I’m done pining for the impossible.
Time to live it up and go out with a bang.
Or a lot of bangs.
And I’m definitely, definitely not getting attached to anyone.
Especially not my straight, gym-loving, football-player roommate Sam whose impressively large… smile I caught a glimpse of once.
Or several times.
That’s why, when Sam asks me for help with a very special, very NSFW project so he can make a little cash, of course I agree. In the name of friendship.
And if it turns out that Sam’s more than just muscles—that he’s sweet, and smart, and a little bit filthy, and a whole lot less straight than I thought—well, that’s neither here nor there, because this time I’m gonna be smart. This time, I’m friend-zoning myself.
We’ve got a list of deliciously hot scenarios, a camera, and Sam’s huge… smile. What could possibly go wrong?
From the author of Want Me comes the third new adult college romance in the Extracurricular Activities series. Expect low angst, high heat, plenty of laughs, a flustered redhead, a gentle giant of a football player, and enough BDE to power a mid-size city.
Neve Wilder lives in the southern United States, where the summers are hot and the winters are…sometimes cold.
She reads promiscuously, across multiple genres, but her favorite stories always contain an element of romance. Incidentally, this is also what she likes to write. Slow-burners with delicious tension? Yes. Whiplash-inducing page-turners, also yes. And every flavor in between.
She believes that love conquers all. Except the heat index in July. Nothing can conquer that bastard.
For updates on new releases, giveaways, and other fun stuff, subscribe to her newsletter at:
Facebook Readers’ Group: facebook.com/groups/WildersWildOnes
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