by: Cindy Dorminy
Genre: Young Adult Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 17, 2025
Publisher: Red Adept Publishing
Falling in love should be easy as Pi.
Seventeen-year-old Samantha Baughman has one month to raise her GPA, or she can kiss her coveted Auburn basketball scholarship goodbye. Her only hope lies with her high school’s resident bad boy—and closet genius—Samuel King.
The last thing Samuel wants is to get tangled in anyone else’s problems. But when he gets caught helping another student cheat, his teacher offers him a get-out-of-jail-free card. With a one-way ticket to boarding school as his only other option, Samuel reluctantly agrees to tutor Samantha… with one stipulation. They have to keep their arrangement on the down-low. No one can know about their study sessions, especially Samantha’s overprotective brother, who has already warned Samuel to stay away from his sister.
As the “Sams” spend more time together, their playful banter turns into genuine attraction, including one extra-credit-worthy kiss. But Samantha’s brother’s threats send Samuel backpedaling so fast that he denies their encounter ever happened. Now, it’s game on for Samantha to get him to confess. She may need his help to pass her classes, but he’s the one who needs schooling in matters of the heart.
Samuel
When I plop my tray onto the table, she glowers at me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Eating lunch.” I glide into my chair. “You see, Sam-Man, the food we eat gets metabolized, and it turns into glucose for our cells to use. And big, strapping guys like me do a lot of metabolizing.”
“Ugh.” She pushes my tray away from hers. “Only you could make a biological process sound dirty. Go away.”
I glance around the table. Jared shrugs. Rachel mouths, “I have no idea.”
To further irritate her, I add, “The dirty part is after our body has removed all the nutrients and what’s left over—”
“Ew.” Paige covers her ears. “Gross. Some of us are eating.”
Sam points to a table full of football jocks. “Why don’t you teach them about metabolism?” She flicks her wrist to shoo me away. “Nobody at this table cares.”
Her face is bright red as she cuts at her lasagna until it’s unrecognizable.
My friends stare at me, waiting for my response. I tap Sam’s tray with my fork. She stabs at my hand with her fork.
“She’s still miffed that even though she scored the winning goal, her percentages sucked.”
Sam slams her fork on the table. “You need to get over that. I did fine.”
“Stats don’t lie.”
If she could shoot daggers with her eyes, I’d be a dead man.
“What’s it to you anyway?”
“I’m only stating facts.”
Between bites of her lasagna, she says, “I don’t give a flying fudge monkey about what you have to say.” She scans the table. Paige and Rachel shake their heads, probably too afraid to dispute her word.
“Jared cares, don’t you?” I ask.
He freezes, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Uh, I plead the sixth.”
“The fifth,” I say.
“That too.”
Sam wads up her napkin and tosses it onto her tray. “If you don’t leave this table right now, I will.”
Paige latches on to Sam’s arm. “Why are you so angry at him?”
“I’m not.” Her voice screeches to a level that could break glass.
“Are too,” we all reply. When her livid expression falls on me, I wink.
Bad idea.
When I plop my tray onto the table, she glowers at me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Eating lunch.” I glide into my chair. “You see, Sam-Man, the food we eat gets metabolized, and it turns into glucose for our cells to use. And big, strapping guys like me do a lot of metabolizing.”
“Ugh.” She pushes my tray away from hers. “Only you could make a biological process sound dirty. Go away.”
I glance around the table. Jared shrugs. Rachel mouths, “I have no idea.”
To further irritate her, I add, “The dirty part is after our body has removed all the nutrients and what’s left over—”
“Ew.” Paige covers her ears. “Gross. Some of us are eating.”
Sam points to a table full of football jocks. “Why don’t you teach them about metabolism?” She flicks her wrist to shoo me away. “Nobody at this table cares.”
Her face is bright red as she cuts at her lasagna until it’s unrecognizable.
My friends stare at me, waiting for my response. I tap Sam’s tray with my fork. She stabs at my hand with her fork.
“She’s still miffed that even though she scored the winning goal, her percentages sucked.”
Sam slams her fork on the table. “You need to get over that. I did fine.”
“Stats don’t lie.”
If she could shoot daggers with her eyes, I’d be a dead man.
“What’s it to you anyway?”
“I’m only stating facts.”
Between bites of her lasagna, she says, “I don’t give a flying fudge monkey about what you have to say.” She scans the table. Paige and Rachel shake their heads, probably too afraid to dispute her word.
“Jared cares, don’t you?” I ask.
He freezes, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Uh, I plead the sixth.”
“The fifth,” I say.
“That too.”
Sam wads up her napkin and tosses it onto her tray. “If you don’t leave this table right now, I will.”
Paige latches on to Sam’s arm. “Why are you so angry at him?”
“I’m not.” Her voice screeches to a level that could break glass.
“Are too,” we all reply. When her livid expression falls on me, I wink.
Bad idea.
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