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Blood rushed in my ears as my body rallied for all-out fight or flight. And then I stopped, because Buck was no longer in the truck at all.

And then his head snapped back. He swung wildly at something but his fists hit nothing. Not until he stumbled back against my truck did I see what—or who—he was fighting. The guy never took his eyes off Buck as he delivered two more sharp jabs to his face, bobbing to the side as they circled and Buck threw futile punches of his own, blood streaming from his nose. Finally, Buck ducked his head and rushed forward with bull-like intent, but that effort was his undoing as the stranger swung an easy uppercut to his jaw.

He collided with the side of the truck again, pushing off and rushing the stranger a second time. Buck crumpled to the ground, moaning and cringing.

The stranger stared down, fists balled, elbows slightly bent, poised to deliver another blow if necessary. There was no need. Buck was almost unconscious. I cowered against the far door, panting and curling into a ball as shock replaced the panic. I must have whimpered, because his eyes snapped up to mine. He rolled Buck aside with one booted foot and stepped up to the door, peering in. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to nod.

I was so not okay. Do you need medical assistance, or just the police?

Erin and Chaz were only two of the many friends I had in there, more than half of them under-aged and drinking. It would be my fault if the party became the focus of the police. I would be a pariah. I shook my head. But I just want to go home. While Iattempted tocram for an algebra test last week, the followingconversation took place: My roommatewas a hostess at a swanky restaurant downtown, a positionshe frequently used as an excuse for overspending herclothing budget.

Three hundred dollar shoes, essential for ajob that paid nine bucks an hour? Istifled my laugh when Her father always caved,especially when she employed the D-word—Daddy. As an upperclassman and a tutor for a huge class like Dr. Iwas prepared toshow him Iwould work hard to catch up and get out of hishair as quickly as possible. Fifteen minutes after Iemailed him, my inbox dinged. We can meet on campus, preferably in the library, todiscuss the project.

Heller as to the level of assistance Ishould provide. Basically, he wants to see what you can do, alone. My group tutoring sessions are MWTh from LMIclenched my jaw. Though perfectly polite, the tone of hisemail reeked of condescension… until his signature at thevery end: Was he being friendly, or casual, or ridiculingmy attempt to sound like a serious, mature student?

Iread his email again and got even madder. So hethought Iwas too dumb to comprehend the course materialon my own? JacquelineIpressed send and felt superior for all of about twentyseconds. So far,it looked less like comprehensible supply and demandcharts, and more like gibberish with dollar signs andconfusing shifts tossed in for fun. When my email dinged again, Iswallowed beforeclicking over to it.

A new message from Landon Maxfieldwas at the top of my inbox. LMPS What do you tutor? He was civil. Nice, even. Landon,Iteach private lessons to orchestra students—middle andhigh school—on the upright bass. Ijust remembered I Are you free any evening?

Or Saturday? Our orchestra teacher,Mrs. Peabody, had looked out over the vast sea of violinplayers and pleaded for someone to switch.

When no one else volunteered, Iraisedmy hand. Still petulant over my rejection oflearning piano—her instrument of choice—in favor of theviolin, she was immediately unsupportive of my newpreference.

Jacqueline,Upright bass? Will that work foryou? Landon,Thank you, yes—that would be great.

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They dodge U-Haul rentals and deliveryfees, and Iget paid in beer. The barter system is just primitive economics at work, youknow. And are you old enough for beer? LMLandon,Far be it from me to knock an effective use of prehistoriceconomics. LMIsmiled at his candid admission of being carless, myface falling when Icontrasted it with the sense of self-importance Kennedy got from his car.

Right before wegraduated, his parents gave his two-year-old Mustang to Ihad to stop linking every single thing thathappened to me with Kennedy. Realization dawned then,that he was still my default. Iwas still tethering him to my present, to my future. The truth was, he now belonged only to my past, and it wastime Ibegan to accept it, as much as it hurt to do so. He told me once he sort of liked that Iwasa GDIgirlfriend. Minus myrelationship with Kennedy, Ihad no automatic invitation to Greek parties or events, though Chaz and Erin could inviteme to some stuff since Ifell under the heading ofacceptable things to bring to any party: Running into clusters of my former friends wasuncomfortable at best.

Just outside the main library, tablesof frat boys sold coffee, juice and pastries every morningfor a week to raise money for leadership training. Armedwith portable grills, Tri-Delts camped out in tents on theirlawn to showcase the plight of the homeless. My warning fellon deaf ears.

Now their eyes shifted awaywhen Iwalked by, though some still smiled or waved beforepretending to be deep in conversation with someone else. At first, Erin insisted that the snubs were in my head, butafter two weeks, she reluctantly concurred. He was one of them, after all. He was theoutgoing, charming, future world leader. Iwas the quiet,cute but somewhat odd girlfriend… After the breakup, Ibecame just a non-Greek undergrad—to everyone but Erin.

Erin had alreadyclaimed the bed nearest the window. Surrounding the giant gilded letterswere posters covered in photos of cheerleader events andhomecomings with hulking football players. You mustbe Jacqueline! There had to be some mistake. Ido like Jacqueline, though, Ihave toadmit.

So classy. Good thing Ilike it, huh? Okay, Jackie,where should we hang this poster of—who is this? Chapter 4Arriving a minute before econ began Wednesday morning,the last thing Iexpected to see was Kennedy, leaning onthe wall outside the classroom, exchanging phone numberswith a Zeta pledge. Giggling after snapping a picture ofherself, she handed his phone back. He did the same,grinning down at her. He would never smile at me like that again. Istraightened and lookedinto clear gray-blue eyes.

That Her bright orange sweatpants said ZETA across the rear. Heller,the whiteboard he filled, and the notes Itook. Dutifullycopying charts of short-run equilibrium and aggregatedemand, all of it seeming like so much nonsense, IrealizedIwould have to beg Landon Maxfield for help after all.

Mypride would only cause me to slide further behind.

Minutes before the end of class, Iturned and reachedinto my backpack as an excuse to sneak a look at the guyon the back row. He was staring at me, a black pencil loosebetween his fingers, tapping the notebook in front of him.

He slouched into his seat, one elbow over the back of it,one booted foot casually propped on the support under hisdesk. As our eyes held, his expression changed subtly fromunreadable to the barest of smiles, though guarded. Isnapped forward, my face warming. Guys had shown interest in me over the past three years,but other than a couple of short-lived, certainly neverrevealed or acted-upon crushes—one on my own college-aged bass tutor, and another on my chemistry lab partner— Perhaps all three.

When class ended, Ipacked my textbook into mybackpack and resisted the urge to look in his directionagain.

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Ifiddled long enough for Kennedy and his fangirl toleave. As Istood to go, the persistently sleepy guy who satnext to me spoke. Imust have knocked off for a few seconds rightaround when he discussed those—my notes areindecipherable.

A scattering of acne dotted his forehead. His hair was overgrown and curly—a skilled stylist couldtame it, but he was probably a fan of the eight-dollar placefeaturing flatscreens of nonstop ESPN. Expressive hazel eyes and an engaging smile that crinkled This saves my ass—Ineed thoseextra credit points.

See you Friday. Ireturned the smile as Imoved into the aisle. Iwas a littleshocked. Why had this never occurred to me before? Ifelt a stab of irrational disappointment. Maybe he was just bored. Or easily distracted. But as Iexited the room, Ispotted him across thecrowded hallway, talking with a girl from class.

Hisdemeanor was relaxed, from the navy shirt, open over aplain gray t-shirt, to the hand tucked into the front pocket ofhis jeans. His black pencil sat atop one ear, only the pink From one to two. Or for him. What are you doing after? Iwovethrough the rush of people in the packed hallway, duckingout the side exit. No way was Igoing to those tutoring sessions if Lucasattended them.

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Besides, Iwasstill in a mourning period over my recently-shatteredrelationship. Not that he Iall but rolled my eyes at myown thought processes. From a purely observational perspective, he wasprobably used to girls like the blonde in the hallwaythrowing themselves at his feet. Just like my ex. Iwondered when Iwould stop feeling like such a cluelesstwit for that misplaced trust. No offense. Thanks for decoding Dr. Jacqueline,Please, no leaping from towering structures.

Do you haveany idea how much damage that would do to my tutoringreputation?? If nothing else, think of the effect on me. LMPS — How did the regional competitions go?

And btw, yourex is obviously a moron. Idownloaded the worksheets, turning over his laststatement in my mind. He was smart and funny, and after only three days, Ialready looked forward to his name in my inbox, our back-and-forth banter. All of a sudden, Iwondered what helooked like. Or… Benji. Ineeded time to recover, even if Landonwas right. Even if Kennedy was a moron.

Iclicked on the first worksheet and opened my econ text,and breathed a sigh of relief. Landon,The worksheets are definitely going to help. Ialready feelless scared of failing this class. Idid the first two - when youhave time, could you look them over? Thank you again forwasting your time on me. Ihad two freshmen from rival schools in competition witheach other at regionals. Both asked me, separately thankGod, who was my favorite. They were very smug with eachother when they came to get their basses from my truck,and Iprayed that neither would mention the favorite statusin front of the other.

No wonder you seem so brainy. JWJacqueline,The worksheets look great.

Contours of the Heart Series

Imarked a couple of minormistakes that could trip you up on an exam, so check those. Ah, sounds like your freshmen have crushes on you? A bass-playing college girl would have rendered Thistime, three of us were heading to the strip to hit some clubswith our fake IDs. God, Ilove this partof it—the hunt for a new guy, everything unknown, untried—the mass of hot prospects in front of you, waiting to bediscovered.

The idea of finding a new guy soundedexhausting and depressing. Neitherresponse was something Iwanted to contend with; Ijustwanted to forget. Ithought of Lucas, annoyed that his presence in econwas making that process impossible, because he wasirrevocably connected to the horror of that night. Every time Isnuck a look back at him, he appeared to be sketchingrather than taking notes, his black pencil held low betweenhis fingers, a concentrated expression on his face.

Whenclass ended, he stuck the pencil behind his ear, turned andwalked from the classroom without a backward glance, firstone out the door. Next up was a stretchy, low-cut purple top. Yanking it from the hanger, she tossed it to me. Erin knew me far too well. Erin,Maggie and Iclaimed a corner of the near-vacant floor. The first guyto interrupt us approached Erin, but she shook her head asher lips mouthed the word boyfriend. She turned himtoward me and Ithought: Nomore relationship.

No more Kennedy. Inodded, choking back the pointless, almost physical pain. We moved to an open space a few feet from Erin andMaggie—who also had a boyfriend.

Iwas their petproject for the night. Crowded around a talltable near the floor, we leaned hips on the barstoolssurrounding it, watching the surrounding hookup activity. AsMaggie returned from bopping and pirouetting her way tothe bathroom and back, Iasked if we could go yet, and Erinfixed me with a look she usually reserved for ill-manneredsteakhouse patrons.

Ismirked at her and sipped my drink. Iknew when the next guy walked up behind me, and thatErin and Maggie approved, because their eyes widenedsimultaneously, focusing over my shoulder.

Fingers grazedthe back of my arm, and Itook a deep breath and exhaled itslowly before turning around. Good thing, too—because itwas Lucas who stood there, his eyes dropping to mycleavage for a split second.

He crooked an eyebrow andgazed into my eyes with a faint smile, unapologetic forlooking. Inodded, and he took my hand and made his way to thefloor, maneuvering through the crowd, which parted easilyfor him.

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Once we reached the worn oak floor, he turned andpulled me close, never letting go of my hand. As we foundthe rhythm of the slow-paced song, swaying together, hetook my other hand in his and moved both hands behind myback, gently holding me captive.

My breasts grazed againsthis chest and Istruggled not to gasp at the subtle contact. Dizzy from weak-but-plentiful margaritas, Iclosed my eyes and let him lead,telling myself that the difference was the alcohol in myblood, nothing more. A minute later, he released my fingersand spread his hands across my lower back, and my handsmoved to his biceps. Solid, as Iknew they would be. Tracking a path, my palms encountered equally hardshoulders. Finally, Ihooked my fingers behind his neck andopened my eyes.

His gaze was penetrating, not wavering for a moment,and my pulse hammered under his silent scrutiny. Finally, Istretched up toward his ear, and he leaneddown to accommodate my question. From the corner of my eye, Iwatched his mouth twitch upon one side. Iblinked, one moment not understanding what his wordsimplied, and the next knowing unreservedly.

Iwould feel nothing but hismouth on mine—and maybe that slim ring at the edge of hislip…The errant thought made my breath catch. When his lips touched just south of my earlobe, IthoughtImight pass out.

Pulling backjust far enough to stare into my eyes, he drew my bodyagainst his, and my legs obeyed where his said to go. Who was that hot guy? He had his straight-A grade pointaverage to maintain, and Ihad music lessons to give. A minute later, Maggie piped up from the back seat. Maggie laughed. Imentally sorted through everything Iknew about him.

Heworked at the Starbucks. Tonight had been something else altogether. And then he disappeared. Bending, his lips next to myear, he thanked me for the dances, led me back to mytable, and vanished into the throng of people. Andhe draws stuff. What kind of stuff? Naked girls? Usually not even whole girls. Just boobs. He was just… sketching something in class Friday.

We know what that means for Jacqueline. Who knows what my type is? Maybe he was unmotivated in economics, butnothing about him seemed unintelligent. He was in remedialclasses, but let me tell you, he was gifted and talented atplenty of non-academic occupations. Irecalled his penetrating gazeWednesday during class, and the breath in my lungs wentshallow. Oh, hell.

He walked into the roomahead of me, and Iwatched his eyes flick over my recentlyassigned seat, and the vacant one next to Kennedy, whowas already seated, thank God. Ihad about thirty secondsto reconsider the whole thing. One button - 15 links for downloading the book "Easy Contours of the Heart Series " in all e-book formats!

Tammara Webber, New York Times bestselling author of Easy, is a hopeful romantic who adores novels with happy endings, because there are enough sad endings in real life. Before writing full time, she was an undergraduate academic advisor, economics tutor, planetarium office manager, radiology call center representative, and the palest person to ever work at a tanning salon. She married her high school sweetheart, and is Mom to three adult kids and four very immature cats. Books Library. Book author: Tammara Webber.

Sep 19, Reviews: Brief introduction: Get download links. Our system has detected that your browser probably does not support JavaScript. Please turn on Javascript, otherwise the functioning of the site will be impossible. Details of Easy Contours of the Heart Series. A college age, New Adult Romance.Throwing a hand in front of his eyes, heattempted to roll to a sitting position.

When her attacker turns stalker, Jacqueline has a choice: crumple in defeat or learn to fight back. It was late. Meet you after next class for morestrategizing before coffee. Iswiped us into the building and we entered the backstairwell that always creeped me out when Iwas alone.

Books Library. Next up was a stretchy, low-cut purple top. Ihad my shot. Let me driveyou. Icoweredagainst the far door, panting and curling into a ball as shockreplaced the panic.