Quarterback blitz gridir.., p.1
Quarterback Blitz : Gridiron Love, page 1
QUARTERBACK BLITZ
AJ ALEXANDER
Quarterback Blitz
by AJ Alexander
www.ajandalexandriabooks.com
authorajalexander@gmail.com
Copyright © September 2022 by AJ Alexander
First Ebook Publication: September 2022
First Paperback Publication: September 2022
Photographer and Image provided by: Depositphoto
Editor: Grace Brennan
Proofreader: Amy Silbernagel
Cover Design: Just Write Creations
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
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CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chastity
Chapter 2
Blaine
Chapter 3
Chastity
Chapter 4
Blaine
Chapter 5
Chastity
Chapter 6
Blaine
Chapter 7
Chastity
Chapter 8
Blaine
Chapter 9
Chastity
Gridiron Love
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
CHASTITY
“There are times they’ll give you the names of the players you are interviewing, but sometimes you have to wing it. You’ll be going off the information you know about each player and choosing who the public would be more likely to want to see on the screen.”
I resist the need to roll my eyes as my professor goes on and on about the dos and don’ts of being a sports newscaster. After growing up in the locker room, following behind my dad as he covered some of the most important games of each season, this is nothing new to me. Players are people too. They put their pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us.
“I’d do anything to be allowed to interview Blaine Manning,” Teagan whispers, not taking her eyes off the professor at the front of the room.
Blaine Manning is on his way to becoming the greatest quarterback of all time. After being drafted right out of high school, he’s played for our hometown team in Tennessee ever since. Not only is he one of the very few players I’d give my left arm to interview, but he’s also the star of most of my fantasies.
“I’d do anything to ride him afterward.” I deadpan without missing a beat.
My heart rate picks up as tiny droplets of sweat form on my forehead. Damn, I got hot just thinking about him—my personal Adonis in football pads. You’d think growing up around football, I’d be immune to their charms, but there’s something about Blaine that calls to me. Ever since I first laid eyes on him almost fifteen years ago, he’s the only man in my eyes. The person I compare every boy I’ve dated, until I just gave up trying.
“Let’s take a moment to discuss what to do when a player refuses an interview.”
I turn towards the front of the class and freeze. Blaine, in all his glory, is staring back at me. His chiseled jawline, inky black hair, green eyes, and mischievous smile hint at what’s coming. My eyes zoom in on his chiseled abs as he pulls his dark blue jersey over his head and uses it to wipe his forehead.
“No comment.” He gives a curt nod before brushing past the reporter trying to interview him.
I bite my bottom lip, attempting to stifle the moan building in my throat. The deeper timber of his voice set my skin on fire, making it almost impossible to listen to the lecture. If this happens when I see him on a television screen, I know I’d jump him like an obsessed fan the moment we’re in the same room together.
The only problem is, men like him only want one thing—a quick roll in the hay—and then they disappear, never to be heard from again. Getting mixed up with a guy like Blaine would lead to nothing but heartache for me, but if I’m being honest, I don’t care. There are no other men in this world like Blaine. Being with him for even one night would be a life-changing experience I’d gladly fork over my virginity for.
Oh, did I not mention that? I’m a twenty, almost twenty-one-year-old virgin. Spending most of my time in stinky football locker rooms and trying to prove that I’m not just a pretty name is a lot of work. It didn’t exactly leave much time for dating, let alone finding a guy I’m willing to give my virginity to. I haven’t been holding out for Blaine, but given a chance, I’d offer it up to him on a silver platter, even if it was for only one night.
“I don’t understand why people keep trying to interview him. Not even my dad could get more than two words from him,” I mumble, not bothering to tear my eyes away from the screen.
“Maybe that was because your dad didn’t have a nice set of tits,” some asshole says from beside Teagan, causing everyone else to chuckle.
Although this is a co-ed class, there’s never a shortage of misogynists. Journalism is a male-dominated profession. Women must work three times as hard to prove themselves, and most of us never make it to screen time.
“If you thought with the brain between your ears instead of the smaller one below your belt, the world would be a better place.” I pin him in place with my stare, daring him to say something else.
If there’s one thing my dad taught me, it’s not to take shit from anyone. Doesn’t matter if they are male or female. I have no problem calling someone on their bullshit. It just so happens that this time my mouth got me into a situation I may not be able to get out of.
“Ms. Berman?”
“Yes?” I turn my attention back toward my professor.
Professor Bradshaw has had it out for me since I walked in on the first day of class. Being the daughter of a famous sportscaster does that. Students and professors alike think that I got here because of my dad, which, yea, that might have had something to do with it. When you go to a college with an entire building named after your father, there’s bound to be some favoritism. I’ve flown under the radar in most of my journalism classes but there are still people that have certain expectations when we first meet, both negative and positive. With this professor, it’s negative. Professor Bradshaw has done everything he can to make sure I don’t pass this class which would make it almost impossible for me to graduate.
“What’s Joe Montana’s the all-time pass yardage before retirement?”
“40,551 yards,” I respond without batting an eyelash.
If there is one thing I know, it’s football stats. Instead of playing with baby dolls and braiding my friend’s hair, I was next to my dad, memorizing stats for each player on the local team. He called it our bonding time. I’d compute the stats while he wrote the articles. We were a winning team. My mom never understood our love for the game, but she was happy we were happy. Football only brought us closer together when she died about five years ago. It gave us something to focus on besides our grief.
“Wrong answer,” he says with a smug smile plastered on his face.
“Check me,” I deadpan, knowing damn well I know what I’m talking about. Joe Montana is not only the greatest quarterback of all time but also one of my dad’s favorites. I could regurgitate his stats in my sleep.
The entire class waits in silence as he pulls out his phone and types the question into Google. His whole face turns red as he shoves his phone back into his pocket, finally realizing that I was right and he was wrong. When will he learn not to question me about stats? If he wanted to show me up in class, he could’ve at least chosen something a little more challenging.
“Prof. got burned by Chastity again,” someone near the front of the class scoffs before the class erupts into laughter.
I feel bad for him, or I would if he didn’t make my life a living hell. If it were anyone else, he’d apologize for his mistake and move on, but there is no way he’d give me one. Men never like to admit they’re wrong, especially when a woman points the information out.
“No one cares about football stats, Chastity. Couldn’t you just let him have this one?” Teagan eyes me skeptically as the timer rings, signaling the end of class. “You really should stop pushing his buttons like that. If you fail this class, you won’t be able to graduate.”
Most of my classmates eat, sleep, and breathe stats, all of us hoping to land an internship at one of the few broadcasting agencies here in town. Teagan has no desire to be in front of the camera and went a more traditional route, scoring an internship with the local paper. Let’s hope she doesn’t have to write for the sports section.
This is just one thing to add to why I was skeptical about the school pairing Teagan and me together as roommates freshman year, but see what I know. She is Ying to my Yang. She’s quiet and reserved, with a good head on her shoulders, the exact opposite of me. I don’t know why she continues to put up with my crap, but we just make sense. I’d be up shit creek if it wasn’t for her.
&n
I fucked up. Big time. I can tell by the look in his eyes that I’m in for it. This class is the only thing standing between me and graduation. The last thing I need is to piss him off even more than I already have. My stubborn streak has once again landed me in hot water.
“I have my fingers crossed for you.” Teagan makes a show of crossing her fingers before she ducks out the door..
Just keep your mouth shut and listen to what he has to say. I sent up a silent prayer for strength before heading for Professor Bradshaw, standing behind the podium.
“You wanted to see me, Sir.”
“Ms. Berman, your behavior during class was beyond disrespectful. Next time something like that happens in my class, I’ll report you to the dean.”
Don’t open your mouth. Don’t open your mouth. Don’t open your mouth.
I continue to chant that phrase in my mind as he pulls a set of papers out of the stack and hands them to me. My eyes nearly bug out of my head as I notice a big red F written over the first page of my term paper.
“Excuse me,” I seethe, crumpling the papers in my hands. “I worked my ass off on this paper. Give me one reason you flunked me.”
“Simple. You didn’t follow instructions.” I open my mouth to respond before he points to the scribble at the top of the page. “The requirements were twelve-point Times New Roman font and double spaced.”
“That’s what I did.”
“No. You did eleven-point font and one-point-five spacing.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! This man has taken petty to a whole new level.
“Professor Bradshaw, I think you should reconsider. I completely understand taking off points for the incorrect fonts, but to fail me completely…”
“Save it, Ms. Berman. It says in the syllabus you read and signed at the beginning of the year that if you cannot follow the provided instructions, you’ll be failed. Maybe next time you’ll pay closer attention.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides as I fight to control my anger. I’ve never in my entire life met another human being I’ve wanted to punch in the face more than this asshole standing in front of me. I could easily take this to the dean of students or even say something to my dad, and there’d be hell to pay, but I promised myself I’d earn my degree without calling in any favors. I’ll be damned if I let him force me to break my promise.
“Before you go running to Daddy, I have a solution for you.” He plasters a fake smile on his face before pulling a piece of paper off his desk. “There’s a standing offer from every paper in town for an interview from Blaine Manning. If you can get that interview, I’ll pass you.”
“That’s impossible,” I deadpan, knowing damn well that even if I call in every favor my father has, I still won’t be able to guarantee I’ll be able to get that interview.
“It’s not impossible. Improbable of happening, maybe, but not impossible.” His eyes roam down my body before zeroing in on my cleavage. “I’m sure you could use your assets to make it happen.”
“I’m so over your misogynistic bullshit, but I’ll bite.”
“You have one week to get the interview to me for approval or I submit your failing grade,” he responds before grabbing his bag from behind the podium.
“Yes, sir.” I give him a mock salute as he strides toward the door without a backward glance.
“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” I murmur before shifting my backpack on my shoulder and heading out the door.
I don’t know how the hell I was going to get Blaine to talk to me, let alone be allowed within a few feet of him, but I’ll be damned if I let Bradshaw get the best of me. I don’t want to do this, but I have no other choice at this point.
I pull out my phone and dial a familiar number before putting it up to my ear. He answers on the first ring. “Hey, Pops. I need a favor.”
CHAPTER TWO
BLAINE
“Great practice, Manning.” Tyrone slaps me on the back before taking a seat on the bench. “I don’t know what you’d do if I wasn’t out there making you look good.”
Tyrone Marcus has the potential to be one of the best wide receivers I’ve worked with, and trust me, I’ve been through plenty. The only thing that gets in his way is his cocky attitude. He'd be amazing if he paid more attention to what was happening on the field instead of the jersey chasers off the field. You’d expect that at thirty-five, he’d have settled down slightly, but I don’t expect that to happen anytime soon. I’m just waiting for the day when a woman strolls into the locker room and lays his ass out.
“You’re such a cock fucker, Marcus,” I respond as I lean down and adjust the two ice bags on my knees. “Damn, I might be getting too old for this shit.”
“Don’t let any of the reporters hear you complaining. That’s the quickest way to get rumors started. We don’t need anyone stressing about us getting another ring this year.”
I don’t even bother to respond as I pull my pads and jersey over my head and set them on the bench in front of me, taking a seat.
“He’s right, you know,” Matt chimes in as he pulls his bag from his locker on the opposite side of me. “I’d love to get another ring before I retire.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Matt Quinn has been my center since I joined the team, and I can’t imagine playing a game without him standing in front of me. When I arrived in the locker room on the first day of training, he took me under his wing and showed me around, ensuring I felt at home, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. I was his best man at his wedding, I’m the godfather to his little girl, and I was the first person he called when his ex-wife took off without a word. We may have started as friends, but now we’re more like family.
“You’ll be fine, young buck.” He chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before swinging his bag over his arm. “Are you coming over tonight to help me find Luna’s new nanny?”
“You mean to find another woman laying naked in your bed?” Tyrone chuckles, grabbing a towel from his locker and rubbing it across the twists in his hair and getting water everywhere.
It’s no secret that Matt hasn’t had the best luck with nannies recently. When his ex-wife took off a few months ago, he had a fantastic nanny who loved Luna as much as him. But she also thought she’d become the next Mrs. Quinn. When he found her lying naked in his bed one afternoon last week after practice, he sent her packing.
“I need someone to watch my daughter, not warm my bed. Now Blaine…”
“Get off it,” I grumble as both roar with laughter.
The guys have been giving me a hard time about finding a jersey chaser to warm my bed after a big win, but I’ve been there and done that. After a while, it just got boring, spending the night with a different woman. When I tried to find a woman to spend time with, she always expected more than I was ready to give that quickly. It went from zero to sixty as soon as we stepped out of the dating phase. She’d ask when she could move in, meet my parents, the whole nine, and I wasn’t having it. It’s been longer than I’d like to admit since I’ve spent time with a member of the opposite sex, but it is what it is.
“You’re going to have to settle down eventually, Manning.” He chuckles before holding his hand out for me to shake.
“I got everything I need right here,” I respond quickly before gripping his hand and giving it a hard shake. “I’ll call you after I review the films for the game tomorrow.”
