Teardrop Shot
Author: Tijan
Genre: Standalone Sports Romance
Blurb
I asked for his criteria for bed buddies–that's the PG version.
He swore at me and said he didn’t do groupies. And just like that, our friendship was off to a great start.
Reese Forster was the starting point guard for the Seattle Thunder.
Gorgeous. Cocky. Loved by the nation.
He’s also attending preseason basketball training camp where I used to work.
Correction: where I work again, because I was fired from my last job.
And dumped.
And I might have a tiny bit of baggage, but that’s normal. Right?
Reese and I shouldn’t have become friends. We shouldn’t have become roommates.
And we really shouldn’t have started sleeping together … (Except we did.)
I’m adorably psychotic. He’s in the NBA.
This is not a disaster waiting to happen, at all.
Teardrop Shot is a 107k standalone with brand new characters.
MY REVIEW
Teardrop
Shot has got to be Tijan’s best work to date. And yes, I dare say it is better
than my all-time favorite of hers, the Fallen Crest series.
It
is hard to let that go, but this book shows this author’s growth as a writer
and showcases her spectacular writing talent.
Not
only do we have the regular angst of a Tijan book, we get so much more. Humour,
tears, loss, pain friendship, love and a story line and characters that really
are exceptional.
This
book is so much more than I thought it could be and it left me gobsmacked. If
there is one book you want to read this year, make it this one!
Charlie
is a wonderfully complex character. She hides behind her hilarious verbal
diarrhea when stressed or nervous. She also has a past that is both
heartbreaking and soul-crushing. You feel every one of her emotions and you
empathize. Your heart breaks right along with hers.
Reese
is an NBA player that is dealing with family issues. He is a truly remarkable
character. His is nothing short of swoon-worthy. Kind, caring and strong are
just the tip of the iceberg for his character.
When
these two meet, the sparks fly and so does the verbal diarrhea.
But,
unlike others, Reese takes notice and spars right back.
Is
it possible for someone whose soul has been crushed to move forward with
someone new?
This
story is told through Charlie’s POV only. It was the only downfall, for me. I
would have loved even a chapter or two in Reese’s POV.
This
is simply a preference however and does not detract whatsoever from the story
or the book as a whole.
This
is an EPIC read with an EPIC story but the writing and characters make this
book EPICALLY EPIC!
I
received an ARC of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
EXCERPT
Two days
later, they’d won their first preseason game and were back practicing.
Both gyms
were filled and were in the middle of drills. The sound of bouncing
basketballs, whistles, yelling, and the squeaks of shoes against the floor
filled the courts.
And the smell
of sweat.
I loved it.
I’d never
enjoyed playing the sport myself, but my brother was a basketball star for our
high school team. He was starting varsity in seventh grade, and growing up as
Chance Manning’s little sister had its benefits—but also its cons. One of the
benefits, I was treated like royalty at every single basketball game. Another
girl, whose brother was on the varsity team with Chance, told me she’d started
being one of the team’s managers. That was a loose title they’d given her
because she showed up and took stats for their games. She’d asked if I wanted
to do it with her, and the answer had been a resounding hell yes. The popular
girls down front always had time for Chance’s little sister, and the only
better seating was actually with the team. That’s where they put us managers.
So even to
this day, a filled and active gym of basketball players made a part of me purr
like a kitten.
I’d missed
this, and I’d forgotten how much I missed this. Seems as if coming back to camp
hadn’t been the only part of my history I was revisiting, and I was okay with
that too. I dropped the ball I’d been bouncing idly and whipped my head around.
Reese stood
at the counter, sweat wetting his hair, his face, and his shirt. He held a
basketball on his hip.
“What?”
My brain
turned off. Reese Forster looked as if he’d stepped out of the shower. He
didn’t smell like it, but he looked like it.
My groin was
inflamed. The Fourth of July decided to visit, and I groaned, biting my lip.
So
embarrassing.
“What’d you
say?” I asked again, my voice a little raspy.
He nodded
toward the screen door. “You and that guy from the other day. You’re good
friends.”
It took a
second, but Grant. It clicked then. The Tub Day.
And nope.
I was not
going to let my weird brain go nuts with thoughts here. He was asking because
he was curious. That’s all. For no reason other than curiosity.
Right.
A monotone
voice sounded through my brain: Calm the fuck down.
I swallowed,
and just like that, I was calmer.
My normal
response was to go into hyperdrive, but enough was enough. I needed to be a
normal person. Reese (I wasn’t using his last name any more) had asked a
general question, because he was generally interested, and I could respond—like
a generally normal person.
You’d think
I’d be better after getting hazed. I wasn’t. I was worse, in some ways.
I tucked some
hair behind my ear. “I used to work here a long time ago, and he and I—”
Reese bounced
the ball between his legs, once, catching it right away. “There was a thing?”
I was totally
cool here.
“Yeah.” I
winced at myself. “I mean, no. We were best friends. That’s it.”
He dropped
the ball again, starting to bounce it in front of him. “So there wasn’t a
thing?”
“Friends.”
“So who did
you have a thing with?” He was still bouncing, his head cocked to the side.
“What?” Why
is he asking about this?
“Come on.” He
looked me up and down. “You’re hot. You’re trying to tell me you’re single?”
I couldn’t
say I wasn’t.
He kept on,
“And you’re working here as what? A gym court attendant?”
“Um.” Shit.
He wanted the deets on why this train wreck was still working at a camp.
All the
Damian trauma, Grandpa Newt, and getting fired exploded in my chest in one big
ball.
I let out a
sigh.
“That’s...stupidly
tragic.” What else could I say?
He caught the
ball and stopped, staring hard at me. “Stupidly tragic?”
I clipped my
head in a nod. “Would you like more water? I can get that for you.”
Pretending
like he’d asked for more water, I started walking away. I called over my
shoulder, “I’ll get you more water.”
He stared at
me the whole way as I went back out the door. I couldn’t see him, but I felt
him. And then I remembered: we had just filled the table with water an hour
ago.
***
Reese kept
his distance from me the rest of the day. I worked like a normal employee, with
only minimal fangirling still going on inside of me, but not as much. The whole
‘stupidly tragic’ thing put a damper on my inner fangirl.
But he
watched me, and I couldn’t ignore the flutter going on in my stomach. And those
weren’t there because of my fanatical fan-ways. They were there and growing
because of a different reason, one that was more like me woman and he man, that
sort of way.
And that was
bad.
I could do
nuts. Crazy was a nice firm wall that I kept around myself, shielding people
from getting too close, or from me connecting as a real human being kinda way.
It was a good firm wall locked around me, and the more he was watching me, the
more that wall was getting dents in it, and that was the bad part.
Really bad.
Like seriously, I’m stupid—sign me up for another stint of therapy kind of bad.
I did not
need to deal with anyone on a real basis. Lucas was the most I’d tried in a
year, and we all know how that ended.
Reese Forster
made Grandpa Newt not even a blip.
But, I was
walking from the main lounge, after dinner when he fell in step beside me, and
for some reason no one clued Reese Forster in on how bad of an idea he was to
my senses.
“I didn’t mean
to freak you out earlier,” he said.
I almost
faltered in my stride, but caught myself and kept going. I needed to deal with
this problem before I was put in a mental clinic.
“Tell me
something gross about yourself.”
“Why?”
We were
rounding one of the outdoor courts. A couple of the other players were there,
shooting hoops.
I figured,
why not. “Because gross helps balance things out. I need balancing out. I’m
starting to like you.”
He grabbed my
arm, jerking me to a stop.
His head
inclined toward me. His eyes keen. “Say again.”
I rolled my
eyes. “Come on. You’re a pro ball player. Women throwing themselves at you is
not new. Why are you surprised by me?”
“It’s not
that.” He gripped the back of his neck. “As a line, that was almost lame
compared to some I’ve heard.” An easy grin fell back in place and he let go of
his neck, nodding to me. “You can do better.”
This guy.
I—no words.
Then I
blinked a few times, staring at him because he was right. I could do better,
and that sort of thing wouldn’t even phase him.
“Okay. Fine.”
I could do this.
This was
weird.
I was still
going with it. “Is your dick cold? Because I’ve got a warmer for it.”
He didn’t
react, his face expressionless, then his smirk grew. “That’s it? We’re not at
the Roxbury. Do better.” His smirk was growing cocky.
Jesus. He did
not realize the stalker he was fanning here.
Some of the
bouncing from the court lessened. The guys were starting to watch us. One guy
broke from their group, heading over. I saw it from the corner of my eye.
I coughed. “I
don’t know. How do girls usually hit on you?”
He shrugged.
“Most just usually send me a nude in my messages. Or you know, practically
being naked and just grabbing me.”
“That works?”
His smirk was
almost rakish now. “If I have an itch and she’s got the warmer for my dick.”
That was so
crude. My warmer got hotter.
“Yeah. Well.
I’m trying to warn you away from me.”
He rolled his
eyes. “You don’t scare me. Besides, I thought you were funny.” He relaxed,
rolling his shoulders back.
“Reese,” Juan
called out, halfway to us. He shot out a ball. It bounced once and Reese caught
it without looking away from me.
“You think I’m
less funny now that I’m being honest?”
He flexed his
hands around the ball. “Maybe I’m missing the questions?”
Juan stopped
just shy of joining our group and conversation. He was waiting.
And I was
waiting too. No one missed my questions. I didn’t even miss my questions. I was
waiting because I didn’t know how to process this conversation. I narrowed my
eyes at him. “Are you messing with me?”
There was
another burning feeling in me, moving up, spreading over my stomach, my chest,
rising all the way to my neck. It was a burning feeling that I hadn’t felt in
so long. I almost didn’t recognize it.
“Is that
another attempt? ’Cause that’s lame too.” He smirked. “Thought you weren’t a
camp groupie?”
Well…there
was always going to be a fine line with that one, especially with him, only
with him.
I closed my
mouth and bit down hard. Juan Cartion was listening to our conversation, and
not even hiding it. The Cruskinator was coming in too, his large hands on his
hips.
I focused
back on him, trying to ignore the other two and now a third was coming over.
“We have an audience.”
Reese’s
eyebrows pulled together, skimming a look over his teammates. “So?”
“So.” I
coughed, smiling and dipping my head down. My hands were almost shaking. “I
should get the cage open. Excuse me.”
I wasn’t
running. I honestly wasn’t.
I wasn’t
hiding.
I wasn’t
avoiding.
I—just—I’d
hid from life while I was with Damian, then hid for another year, and Lucas had
been a crash and burn attempt at jump-starting my whole living again. This,
though. This, with a minor conversation with Reese Forster (yes, I had to say
his last name because his first name didn’t put it into the best perspective)
had me feeling things I’d almost forgotten could happen in me.
I felt
normal, for a small moment.
I was a girl
crushing on a guy, not a fangirl gawking over a celebrity, and it hit me hard
in the chest. Right there, making that thing pumping and skipping a beat.
That was what
I’d been afraid of. 4.
We were
heading down the trail when we passed a few of his teammates coming the other
way.
I averted my
gaze, pulling on his sweatshirt as he stopped.
“What’s up,
Forster?”
“Not much.
Heading back to shoot some hoops.”
I could feel
their gazes.
Reese’s
sweatshirt swamped me, but it smelled like him. A hint of sand and pine mixed
together. Tugging his sleeves down, I balled them up and pretended to look at
them.
“We bus out
at ten, right?”
Reese nodded.
“Yeah. Breakfast is at nine.”
That was news
to me, though not the busing-out part. I knew they had another preseason game
coming up.
Fists bumped
between Reese and the others as they said their goodnights. We’d walked a few
feet before someone murmured something, and the others began laughing.
The hairs on
the back of my neck stood up. I knew that laugh was about me.
“They think
we’re fucking,” Reese commented.
I smothered a
“WHAT?” and let out a strangled chuckle instead. “Yeah. No shit.” A second
thought, “You think they’ll tell your coaches about me staying in your cabin?”
Because I hadn’t said a word to the other staff. I didn’t want to hear any of
the lectures I’d get. Plus I knew Keith would relish the chance to fire me.
“Nah. And to
be honest, I don’t think the coaches would give a shit—as long as we show and
do our jobs. And you’re not underage.” He laughed. “Juan told the guys about
your cabin, but none of them are buying it. I figure it’s easier to let them
think that than tell them truth. Is that okay with you?”
I looked up.
“What’s the truth?”
He grinned,
the look taking him from hot to HOT. “That you’ve become like an annoying gnat
that I like for some reason.” He raised an eyebrow. “How’s that for the truth?”
Warmth
flooded me. I could be a gnat.
We started
forward again, and I kept his sleeves wrapped around my hands. “You could tell
them the other truth.”
“Yeah? What’s
that?”
“That I’m a
stalker with polite boundaries.”
He groaned.
“Stop with the stalking bullshit.” He swung, but his fist was more of a tap on
my shoulder. It was a soft tap, one between friends.
Friends.
We’d become
friends.
I was okay
with that.
ABOUT TIJAN
Tijan is a New York Times Bestselling author that writes suspenseful and unpredictable novels. Her characters are strong, intense, and gut-wrenchingly real with a little bit of sass on the side. Tijan began writing later in life and once she started, she was hooked. She’s written multi-bestsellers including the Carter Reed Series, the Fallen Crest Series, and the Broken and Screwed Series among others. She is currently writing a new YA series along with so many more from north Minnesota where she lives with a man she couldn’t be without and an English Cocker she adores.
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