Curves For the Boys: The Complete Romance Series: 4-Book Box Set Read online

  Contents

  More Jenna Rose

  1. Going Deep

  1. Red

  2. Red

  3. Blue

  4. Blue

  5. Red

  6. Red

  7. Blue

  8. Red

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  2. First Round Knockout

  1. Jackson

  2. Merrell

  3. Jackson

  4. Merrell

  5. Jackson

  6. Jackson

  7. Merrell

  8. Jackson

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  3. Necessary Roughness

  1. Natalie

  2. Bobby

  3. Natalie

  4. Natalie

  5. Bobby

  6. Bobby

  7. Natalie

  8. Bobby

  9. Bobby

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  4. Hard Hitter

  1. Jay

  2. Emma

  3. Jay

  4. Emma

  5. Jay

  6. Emma

  7. Jay

  8. Emma

  9. Jay

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  More Jenna Rose

  Jenna Rose on Amazon

  Jenna Rose on Facebook

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  If you liked the book, please leave a review on Amazon. It really helps us authors!

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  1. Going Deep

  Curves For the Boys Series

  Jenna Rose

  Contents

  1. Red

  2. Red

  3. Blue

  4. Blue

  5. Red

  6. Red

  7. Blue

  8. Red

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  1

  Red

  “I don’t want to be a virgin anymore, Fran! I feel like it’s all just this huge build up and like this black cloud hanging over my head. I just want to do it—boom—and get it over with so I’m not so nervous, ya know?”

  My roommate Fran looks back at me with raised eyebrows and a look of skepticism like I just told her I learned how to fly and am planning a trip to the moon.

  “Um, no,” she says simply.

  We’re sitting in a corner booth at The Pub, the dive bar just off campus, sipping some kind of terrible craft beer Fran wanted to get. We may be freshman, but Fran’s brother got us both fake IDs last week so we could get in.

  “Your first time should be special, Red,” she says, sounding like my mom. For a brief second, I resent her T-shirt, patterned with musical notes. But then I take a breath and tell myself to cool down. “It should be with someone you really like.”

  “But I don’t really like anybody,” I remind her. “All the art guys are wimps, the science guys are more into watching porn on their computers that they built, and the jocks…well…”

  “Yeah, the jocks…” she muses, taking another sip of her beer. Fran and I may not always get along, but when it comes to the meatheads on campus, we definitely see eye to eye.

  Fran’s a music major and I’m a weirdo art major. A lot of people think those are easy majors, but they just don’t have a clue. I spend more time in the art building than I do in my own dorm room, and Fran’s fingers are about to fall off from all the time she spends practicing violin at the music building. As such, neither of us are high up on any guys’ lists.

  “I mean—they have nice bodies,” I say. “But most of them have the personality of a ten-year-old paintbrush.”

  “What, you don’t like the I-am-the-king-of-everything attitude?” Fran laughs. “The every-girl-wants-my-dick face that they make when they walk into a room?”

  “Oh, I love it!” I say sarcastically, glancing around the bar as a group of them walks in. I point discretely to the one in front, who for some stupid reason, is wearing a pair of green sunglasses despite the room being dimly lit.

  “Look at him. for example,” I say. “He’s making a very subtle fashion statement with those glasses, which of course makes my ovaries swell for him, and that cut-off T-shirt has my baby-making instincts on overdrive. If I could only get his dick in me!”

  Fran giggles and points to the one behind him, one of those jock guys who’s decided to see if he can grow his hair longer than most girls, and tosses his head like Fabio as he cracks a joke to his buddy.

  “And him? He knows girls will want to just sit behind him and braid his hair before he fucks them,” she explains with a smile. “I’m barely able to contain myself right now! Maybe I can use his hair to repair the bow on my violin!”

  I stifle a laugh and cover my face as the two of them look over in our direction.

  “Oh, don’t look!” Fran whispers. “They might come talk to you!”

  “Eeek!”

  “But then again, maybe you want that?” she asks. “Since you’re in such a hurry to lose that V-card of yours.”

  “And you’re not?” I ask. “Come on, Fran, I’ve seen the sheets moving at night at least a few times.”

  Fran pretends to gasp, then shakes her head. “Like I said, I want to wait for someone I really like. I’m not a slut-skank like you.”

  I gasp back, obviously so offended. “Slut-skank, bitch? You better watch it!”

  And then I hear it—a booming, loud, bass-filled male voice behind me, accompanied by the strong scent of…man.

  “Who’s a slut-skank and how do I get her number?” the voice asks. I turn around, expecting to find another sunglass-wearing-meathead or a grinning chad with a fireman’s outfit on, but instead, I find myself staring directly into a pair of sparkling blue eyes that just happened to be attached to the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

  “Whoa…” I whisper without even realizing it.

  “Whoa? Whoa what?” he asks with a grin that could melt panties.

  “Huh?” I stammer. “Oh, nothing. And since you were asking, she’s the slut-skank.”

  As I point to Fran, I realize I don’t even know why I’m doing it. This guy is hot, clearly a jock, and a perfect candidate to lose my virginity to. When his eyes leave mine and move to her, I feel it like a punch in the stomach, then quickly reach out and tug on his hand.

  “Kidding!” I laugh. “I’m the slut-skank. Looking for a good time?”

  Ouch, what was that? I regret it as soon as I say it; I’m failing on every single level right now, and that’s confirmed when Fran bursts out laughing. Thankfully, Mr. Mystery Man just smiles.

  “You’re a liar,” he says, catching me off guard.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I know who you are,” he says, waving a scolding finger at me. I can see his biceps ripple through the sheer fabric of his T-shirt. “You’re Red, the quirky art girl who thinks she’s too good for everyone.”

  Now that comment knocks me completely off balance. My jaw drops open and I glance over at Fran, who looks like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or chew him out. She chooses the third option and stays silent.

  “Um…excuse me?”

  Not my best response ever, but what the hell, right? Is this guy stalking me?

  “You heard me, Strawberry,” he says, his grin widening.

  He’s referring to my hair, which in a childish act of rebellion, I dyed bright red six months before graduation and have maintained ever since. It’s also the reason Fran calls me Red instead of my real name.

  “Strawberry?” I reply. “And what do they call you? Eggplant?”
>
  I cover my mouth with my hand as soon as the word escapes my lips. But it’s too late, Mr. Jock is already laughing.

  “Yeah, yeah they do,” he chuckles. “The girls do at least.”

  “Oh, vom,” Fran groans.

  “They call me Blue,” he says, pointing to his eyes, as though that’s supposed to mean something to me.

  “Blue.”

  “You don’t know me?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

  “Should I?” I ask. He’s obviously some kind of athlete, but that’s all I know.

  “Starting quarterback?” he continues. “On my way to the NFL?”

  Oh, shit…

  “Good for you,” Fran says.

  “It is good for me,” he says to her, oozing with confidence. He turns his eyes back to me. “And you know what I think?”

  “What?” I reply, almost afraid to ask.

  “I think that we should fuck.”

  My eyes almost bug out and I look over at Fran, who’s rolling hers so hard she looks like she’s about to pass out.

  “I think the universe would like it,” he tells me. “You know—Red and Blue? Get together and make some purple?”

  My heart’s fluttering like butterfly wings, and I realize my body is hot. Not as hot as his though…

  There’s something going on between my legs that’s impossible to ignore, and definitely has something to do with his Adonis chin and model-esque cheek bones. Oh, and how I can feel muscles in his wrist that I didn’t even know existed.

  “Does this pickup approach work on most girls?” I ask. Blue shrugs.

  “Dunno. It’s not every day that I meet a girl who I’m destined to be with.”

  I may be stubborn, and I do not want to admit it…but his lines are actually working on me. There’s a confidence to him that’s impossible to ignore. His eyes are hypnotic and his body—from what I can see of it—looks like something I’d kill to sketch…if he was nude, that is.

  “Go away, dude,” Fran groans, doing her best to be a good roommate and come to my aid. But this time, I don’t want it.

  “Do you mind if I’m a virgin?” I blurt out. I expect him to grimace or make some kind of disgusted face, but he doesn’t. In fact, his eyes blaze, and unless I’m imagining things, he licks his lips.

  “Mind?” he asks, as though I’m batshit crazy. “Do I look like I mind?”

  “No…” I whisper in reply, my excitement swelling within me.

  “Good. Then how about this?” he suggests. “Why don’t you come by Briar House around eight after I get on practice and we’ll fix that little problem of yours. What do you say?”

  I can barely speak. I glance at Fran, who is giving me the hell-no face, which has the complete opposite effect that she intended. Fiery with desire, I look back at the gorgeous jock and nod.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good,” he says. “Oh, and try to wear something that regular girls wear, all right? I’ll catch a load of shit for bringing home a girl who dresses like a homeless lady.”

  “Fuck you,” I reply with a scornful smile.

  “See you then, Strawberry,” he grins. “Or should I call you Cherry?”

  2

  Red

  “This is all a big joke, right?” Fran asks as I try on another outfit in front of the mirror. “You’re just fucking with me, right? You’re gonna ghost him, right?”

  “Say right again, Fran,” I laugh, not happy with the orange-print dress I was hoping to wear tonight. I got it at Goodwill for five dollars and used to think I looked super cute in it, but now? I think I look like a girl who never learned to dress herself.

  “Just wear what you were wearing before!” Fran says, sounding like she’s in agony as she tumbles face first onto her bed.

  “Oh, my Goth stockings and the top that makes me look like a witch? You heard what Blue said.”

  “Yeah, I heard it all,” she says into her pillow.

  As I flip through the rest of my closet, I realize I don’t have a single acceptable outfit for tonight—at least not one that’s worthy of a guy like Blue.

  Starting quarterback on his way to the NFL…If you had told me in high school that a guy like that would be interested in me, I would have laughed at you. Guys like him were always into girls like Tasha, the cute blonde down the hall—

  “That’s it!” I exclaim as I rush from the room in nothing but a pair of shorts and a bra. Tasha’s door is open and I pop my head in to find her eating Cheetos on her bed.

  “Tasha! Can I borrow something cute for tonight?”

  “Uh, sure?” she replies casually. “But you need to tell me what it’s for.”

  “I have a…date.”

  “Why did you say it like that?” she asks, sitting up.

  “I—well, it’s not really a date,” I explain. Part of me doesn’t want to just spill the beans about my business, but I mean…I’m going to have sex with the starting quarterback!

  “So what is it then? You’re not…you’re not going to fuck someone are you?”

  A sheepish grin is my only reply. Tasha sits up, her jaw slack with disbelief.

  “Shut the fuck up!” she laughs. “You’re finally getting rid of the V-card? Who’s the lucky guy?”

  I’m blushing. I feel giddy. You’re so stupid, Red.

  “You won’t believe me.”

  “Tell me!” she says loudly as she gets up. My lips smile on their own.

  “Do you know a guy named Blue?”

  Tasha’s face falls off. Her bag of Cheetos slips from her hands and she stares at me like I just told her my rich grandma died and left me a billion dollars.

  “Blue?” she gasps. “Colton Blue!?”

  “He didn’t tell me the Colton part,” I reply. “But yeah, I guess?”

  For a minute, Tasha looks down like the world suddenly stopped making sense, but then she looks up at me with joy in her eyes like a mother whose daughter just made her first A in school. She walks right up to me and hugs me.

  “I’m so happy for you,” she tells me. “Here we all were thinking you were going to end up with a girlfriend named Bertha!”

  We both laugh and Tasha moves quickly to her closet and starts pulling out dresses.

  “Blue, pink, red—but you have red hair so forget that—how about simple and black?” she asks, pulling out a dress that matches the description. I frown.

  “I wear too much black. How about a light blue?”

  “Ah!” she replies. “You art students and your color knowledge.”

  She buries her head in the clothes and pulls out a slim blue dress with a sash that is nothing like anything I would ever wear.

  “I love it,” I say with a smile.

  I’m grinning like it’s my birthday as I slide into it and stare at myself in the mirror. I’m not one to brag—like ever—but even I am willing to admit that I look pretty darn good in it.

  “Look at that,” Tasha says loudly before spanking me on the ass hard enough to sting. “Where’d you get that thing, girl?”

  “Ow!” I laugh. “And…I dunno? My momma?”

  “Your dad must be a happy man!” she laughs. “Why don’t you try wearing some clothes that actually show off your assets from now on?”

  “Yeah…” I say absentmindedly as I spin in the mirror and watch the dress spin. It’s not a super fancy dress, but it is for me. I might as well be heading to prom.

  “Try not to get cum on it, kay?” Tasha asks. “Or you’ll be buying me a new one.”

  “Tasha!” I exclaim, laughing and blushing at the same time. “I would never!”

  “It’s not really your choice, though,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “If ol’ Blue decides to bend you over and then bust all over your fat booty and some of his load gets on my dress—”

  “Oh my God!”

  I seriously can’t take any more. Covering my face with my hands, I race out of her room, back down the hall and into mine and Fran’s and collapse down on the bed.


  “Whoa, you look fancy,” she says. I can’t tell if she means it or is slightly mocking me—or is a little jealous. Probably a mixture of both.

  “Tasha leant it to me,” I tell her. “You think it works?”

  “I think you could go over there tonight in a burlap sack and that Neanderthal would still try to stick his cock in you.”

  Probably jealous.

  “Wow, way to make me feel special, Fran,” I say as I sit up and grab my purse and phone.

  I’m giving her the opportunity to apologize, but she just shrugs. “That’s just my opinion of the guy, Red.”

  Okay. That’s how it’s going to be. My roommate’s reaction is only making me more committed to tonight’s plan. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s being pressured into behaving a certain way. No one forces me into a box. No one.

  “All right,” I reply. “Don’t know if I’ll be back tonight. If I am, I’ll try not to wake you.”

  I’m on my way out the door when Fran adds one last jibe. “Try not to get herpes.”

  I start to say something but decide better of it; there’s no need to make things worse and get into a fight that will spoil my night. Instead, I leave the dorm and start my walk across campus.