Cutters Vs. Jocks

By Elizabeth Marx

Love at first sight versus lust you can’t fight.

Libby Tucker is a cutter—a nobody waitress in a college town—at least that’s what everyone believes. But admission to law school is Libby’s ticket out of Indiana and her escape from small town life forever.

During a night on the town, Libby beats the most competitive athlete on campus at pool and draws more attention from him than she’s prepared for.

Aidan Palowski is one of those jocks your friends warned you about—the kind that never loose—the kind that put notches in their baseball bats. As the closing pitcher on the best baseball team in the Big Ten, he’s on his way to the major leagues. Aidan always gets what he wants and Libby is the final home run he wants to hit out of the park.

The last thing Libby needs is to get sidetracked by a superstar jock. Afraid that she might be on a collision course with love at first sight Libby keeps her distance, but the longer she holds out the more Aidan realizes it’s a case of lust he can’t fight.

What happens when worthy opponents refuse to play their hearts out?

CUTTERS VS. JOCKS

The story of two lovers who put their future goals ahead of each other’s love before they were brought to the table for BINDING ARBITRATION.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Marx
• Release date: Nov 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466136458

Elizabeth Marx

Windy City writer Elizabeth Marx writes deeply emotional romances that take her readers on a roller coaster ride through desire and despair. Elizabeth’s cosmopolitan flair for fiction makes her unafraid to push you over that first drop just when you think you know what’s going to happen next. Her writing is described as hilarious, heartbreaking, and heartwarming. Her characters achieve the ‘happily ever after’ through a journey of poignant and passionate moments.In her past incarnation she was an interior designer—not a decorator—which basically means she has a piece of paper to prove that she knows how to match and measure things and can miraculously make mundane pieces of furniture appear to be masterpieces.Elizabeth grew up in Illinois but has also lived in Texas and Florida. If she’s not pounding her head against the wall trying to get the words just right, you can find her in her garden. Elizabeth resides with her husband and an Aussie wigglebutt.Elizabeth has traveled extensively, but still says there’s no town like Chi-Town.You can contact the author at [e-mail] or visit her website www.elizabethmarxbooks.com

Book preview

CUTTERS VS. JOCKS

CUTTERS VS. JOCKS

Chicago Sports Romance Book 1

Elizabeth Marx

Elizabeth Marx Books

Contents

What’s a Cutter?

1 WE SHOULD BE WOO’D AND WERE NOT MADE TO WOO

2 FANS DON’T BOO NOBODIES FANS DON’T BOO NOBODIES

3 O’, WHAT MEN DARE DO

4 CHAMPIONS KEEP PLAYING UNTIL THEY GET IT RIGHT

5 NOTHING CAN COME FROM NOTHING

6 HITTING IS TIMING. PITCHING IS UPSETTING TIMING.

7 OUR REMEDIES OFT IN OURSELVES LIE

8 NEVER LET THE FEAR OF STRIKING OUT GET IN YOUR WAY

9 DID MY HEART LOVE ’TIL NOW?

10 MOST BALL GAMES ARE LOST, NOT WON

11 THINK YOU I AM NO STRONGER THAN MY SEX

12 IF WINNING ISN’T EVERYTHING, WHY DO THEY KEEP SCORE?

13 THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE NEVER DID RUN SMOOTH

14 YOU WIN SOME, LOSE SOME, WRECK SOME

15 MY WORDS FLY UP, MY THOUGHTS REMAIN BELOW

16 NO ONE KNOWS WHAT TO SAY IN THE LOSER’S LOCKER ROOM

AIDAN & LIBBY WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?

OTHER ROMANCES

SIGNING BONUS

JUST IN CASE

JUST CLOSE ENOUGH

DESCENT OF BLOOD

ASCENT OF BLOOD

How You Can Support Indie Authors

SNEAK PEAK

About the Author

Also by Elizabeth Marx

Copyright © 2011 by Elizabeth Marx

Copyright © 2nd Edition June 2015

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously.

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Editor: Melissa Ringsted, There For You Book Editing

http://thereforyoumelissa.blogspot.com

Cover Design: Alexandra Fomicheva

http://alfoart.com/about.html

Created with Vellum

For all the girls with the courage to jump the tracks and for all the boys waiting on the other side to fall head-over-heels for them.

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And vice-versa.

What’s a Cutter?

CUTTERS

Cutter is a derogatory term used at IU by college students in reference to the local youths in Bloomington, Indiana. Akin to townie, it was used in the movie Breaking Away, but cutter originally referred to someone who worked in the local stone cutting industry in Indiana and is still used today.

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VS. Versus.

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JOCKS

Jock is believed to be derived from the word jockstrap, and synonymous with the male athlete. It has become ingrained in American culture as a negative stereotype. Like meathead or muscle head, it’s based on the theory that a jock is muscular, but unintelligent and unenlightened, unable to carry on a conversation unless it’s related to sports or exercise.

1 WE SHOULD BE WOO’D AND WERE NOT MADE TO WOO

A Midsummer’s Night Dream

Elizabeth

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Do you believe in love at first sight? It’s an illusion, I don’t care. Madonna’s classic lyrics funneled through the speaker system and I gave myself a mental amen. Love wasn’t a magical cure-all and it certainly didn’t strike with a single glance. In spite of my love of English literature I didn’t believe what writers, poets, or even songwriters said on the subject because I’d never seen love, or even lust for that matter, have a positive effect on anyone. In my experience love made people bat shit crazy for a short period of time, followed by a drawn out sense of misery.

The second we walked into the bar, Vicki informed me that we were playing pool in the Hoosier Room. I had no desire to play pool, but I agreed because once Vicki set her mind on something there was no talking her out of it. Case in point, her hair was chartreuse right now, Popsicle green, with a white lightning streak running down one side of her sharp bangs.

McCreary’s pool tables sit at the four cardinal points in little raised alcoves cordoned off by half walls. As I trailed Vicki up the stairs I caught a glimpse of a guy and I tripped over my own feet. Never before has a single person made such a jarring impression on me. It was his focused expression, broad shoulders, and the way his looming presence seemed to reach out for me. He was like a tall tree you’d like to climb or lay under while his limbs hung over you protectively. And no guy, with a single, silky nod of his head had ever overwhelmed me to the point of feeling naked and exposed.

Weren’t there supposed to be fireworks, violins, and rose petals? Instead my awestruck moment was illuminated by the glare of college football on television screens, the crunching of peanut shells underfoot, and stale stout stabbing my senses. It was the fall of my junior year, and I had avoided any instant attractions since I’d enrolled at IU. Just because I had bad luck fermenting in my blood, didn’t mean I was going to let this God-like temptation side track me.

He smiled, like he knew exactly what I was thinking and he wanted to raise the ante.

I glanced away, refusing to take the bait, McCreary’s resembled a saloon from the Wild West, marred and scarred wide plank floors, wooden tables overflowing with empty beer steins, and the majority of male patrons looking for rodeo hoes offering free rides. Poetry, profanity, and phone numbers are whittled in the wooden walls for posterity. Its patrons are a mix of cutters and college kids. The bar had some of the best sandwiches in Bloomington, with names like Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, and Call of the Wild. Vicki and I spent quite a few Saturday nights at McCreary’s, because the bar was right down the way from the movie theater on the residential side of Bloomington and she was a movie buff. As a matter of fact, we’d just seen a movie, but at the sight of him the title seemed to be sucked from my brain stem.

When I gave up my examination of the bar I refused to look at him again, but I could feel him watching me.

Vicki helped me recover from my misstep by pulling me further into the tiny niche and one of our opponents greeted us. The lookout was tall and muscular, with dirty blond hair. His teammate positioned his long, athletic frame over the table, measuring his shot. When he heard the introductions, he looked up and brushed his dark hair away from his blue eyes and took in Vicki. His eyes filled his face, but he didn’t sneer, which is what most jocks did when faced with Vicki. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive; it was just she was a lot to take in all at once. And once she started talking, it was hard for most people to ignore, because her voice was so high pitched it reminded you of Minnie Mouse swallowing the swell of a hurricane.

The jock nodded in greeting to Vicki, and then turned toward me. His lips crinkled in another lopsided smile, while his killer blue eyes gave me a slow once-over. I felt like I had walked straight into a beam of electrified male energy. The dimple in his chiseled cheek was so deep he could use it as a trap, and I didn’t doubt he’d already caught quite a few coeds in that crevice alone.

Researchers say you can judge the attractiveness of another person in thirteen-tenths of a second. I knew he was someone I would never forget. It wasn’t just his physical stature that ensnared me, almost surrounded me, but his laser focused gaze unnerved me. If I let him, he’d use those beautiful blue orbs to sharpen his ego on my bones. In spite of my insides shaking with primal awareness he seemed totally calm, cool, and collected; like an animal sure of its next kill. I took two steps back.

Tough as nails on the outside, but I’d bet you have a gooey center, he said to me when he worked his way back up my body to my face.

My mouth dropped open in outrage, but I couldn’t get a word out as all the hair on my body stood up, and then knotted.

We work together at the Waffle House, Vicki said to his friend, David. I was pretty sure his name was David, but I was having a hard time following the introductions. When I didn’t say anything Vicki gave me a sideways warning glare.

I wasn’t known for taking crude comments off customers without a cutting comeback, but for Vicki’s sake I offered, We’re waitresses.

I’d like to place an order, Dimples said.

I repositioned my glasses on the bridge of my nose and refused to acknowledge his comment.

What’s your major? Dimples asked of Vicki.

Yeah, not so much, while I went to class and the library, Vicki always said she’d take a pass on anything past primary. "She only came to Bloomington to escape her small-town parents who believe in Green Peace, free love, and that marijuana