Release Blitz, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway:
Bet You
By Neve Wilder
Franklin University Series, Book 4
Spencer
Whose brilliant idea was it to build university housing next to one of Franklin U’s most notorious party frats?
I’m a real student—the kind who actually came to college to learn, not some dumb frat bro who sees Franklin U as a four-year challenge to consume the most booze and throw out the best pick-up line.
Their all-hours lifestyle is driving me crazy. Not to mention, the jerks keep taking my assigned parking spot.
But the worst offender might be Cory Ingram. Sure, he has a smile that could melt a polar ice cap, but no way will I ever be one of his minions. I’m pretty sure I made that clear when I blew my top at him. So I have no idea why he’s suddenly everywhere around me, turning on the charm like I might actually fall for it.
Nope. Not gonna happen.
Cory
From the first day I set foot on Franklin U’s campus, everything has been golden. I have a ton of friends, endless parties to be the life of, and whoever I want in my bed on any given night. Sure, I’m a shameless party boy, but I’m not a jerk. Ask anyone. Seriously.
Even the crotchety old groundskeeper waves and smiles at me when I pass.
Then there’s Spencer Crowe. I’ve never seen a guy’s face get so red over a parking spot. Even when I try to make it right, he proceeds to give me the tongue-lashing of a lifetime—which is about the moment I notice that, in addition to being irrationally irate, he’s also crazy hot.
My friends think I’ve finally met the one person I can’t seduce…
Bet you I can.
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Exclusive Excerpt from Bet You by Neve Wilder
Not gonna lie, anthro class with Spencer has become one of the highlights of my week.
When I slide into the seat on his left on Thursday, the exasperated roll of his eyes makes me grin. I expect he’ll spend the rest of class trying to ignore me, as usual.
But this time, there’s an interesting development. After a huff of annoyance, Spencer reaches into his backpack and tosses me a pen. “Here.”
A pen offering? Oh my. This could be a positive sign. Maybe he’s feeling crappy for the Shitpocalypse he unleashed on my Jeep the other day. “What’s this for?”
“Since I’ve given you a pen, you can’t ask me for one.”
Ah. I nudge the pen back in his direction. “I don’t need one, but thanks.”
“Yes, but you’re going to ask for one regardless, just to annoy me. Now you can’t ask because I’ve already given you the thing you’re going to ask for. And since I’m generous, you can keep it.” His smirk says he’s pleased with himself for this preemptive strike.
I scratch my jaw and nod, hooking the pen to the collar of my tee. “Alright, fair.”
He eyes me dubiously, but I play angelic, facing forward and retrieving my laptop so I can take notes.
Then, once the professor walks into class and gets started, I lean over, inhaling the clean scent of him—he always smells damn good— and whisper, “Do you have a pencil I can borrow?”
Spencer’s nostrils flare with irritation, and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly before exhaling a slow breath and angling slightly toward me, speaking softly. “No one uses pencils anymore. You don’t need a pencil, just like you don’t need a pen. And don’t tell me you just want one because guess what? I want things that I don’t get, too. Like more than four hours of sleep on a regular basis. Or a catamaran. An endless supply of Orange Sours. Or how about just getting through this class one time without you asking me for something. I could go on.”
“Gentlemen, is there a problem?” the prof asks, and we both quickly answer, “No,” in unison.
Ten minutes later, while the professor is setting up his next PowerPoint, I turn to Spencer again. “Did you add any cories to your tank yet?”
At first, he seems like he’s not going to answer, and then he presses his lips together and exhales. “Maybe.”
“Sweet, did Ted adjust okay?”
“He did, but…” Spencer stops, shaking his head. “Quit doing that.”
“What, trying to have a conversation with you?”
“Yeah, that.”
“The sheer audacity, me trying to converse with my tablemate, right?” In my defense, Spencer could shut me down easily if he wanted, but that’s not the vibe he puts out at all, so I press on. “I have to know… did you name any of the cories after me?”
“No.” He does that thing where he presses his lips together again. “One Cory is enough in this world, trust me.”
“I’m glad you think I’m enough for you. I mean, I’ve never had any complaints or anything, but you never know.”
Next to Spencer, Gina is laughing. He elbows her.
“See, I’ve even won Gina over.”
She leans around Spencer. “You’ve not won me over. You’re just such a pest that I can’t help but be entertained.”
Ouch. But I grin winsomely anyway. “I’ll accept that.”
“Is there anything you won’t accept?” Spencer narrows his eyes at me, and I know he means that as a dig at my reputation, probably, but I’m not gonna give it to him, no matter how much I’m tempted to point out that foot traffic in my bedroom has been virtually nonexistent lately. What’s even stranger is that I haven’t given it much thought. I’ve been a little preoccupied.
“There are plenty of things I won’t accept. I won’t accept ranch dressing as anything less than a universal condiment like ketchup. I won’t accept that the Tigers won the Super Bowl last year. The Denver Rush totally deserved that one—fight me. And I don’t accept that you don’t find me at least mildly entertaining.”
“Gentlemen.” Professor Adams gives us a stern stare. Oops. “Unless you’re fervently discussing the evolution of Neanderthals, I suggest you wrap it up.”
Under his breath, Spencer murmurs, “You are a Neanderthal.”
“Ooga booga,” I grunt in reply and face forward.
Enter the Giveaway:
To celebrate the release of Bet You, Neve is giving away an eBook of the Winner’s choice from her backlist!
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About the Author:
Neve Wilder reads promiscuously, across multiple genres, but her favorite stories always contain an element of romance. Incidentally, this is also what she likes to write. Slow-burners with delicious tension? Yes. Whiplash-inducing page-turners, also yes. Down and dirty scorchers? Yes. And every flavor in between.
She believes David Bowie was the sexiest musician to ever live, and she’s always game to nerd out on anything from music to writing.
And finally, she believes that love conquers all. Except the heat index in July. Nothing can conquer that bastard.
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