EAT. SLEEP. FOOTBALL. Those are my -- Jackson Jennings, Jr’s -- three mantras . My entire life, I've been a trained athlete with only one end-game: Professional football. Which means no girls. No parties. No alcohol. EAT. SLEEP. FOOTBALL. Repeat. Every Friday night, I cruise the strip on campus, bored, lonely and conditioned not to party. But the night I meets Charlotte Edmonds on the side of the road, I wonders if my three mantras will ever be enough. BIG. DUMB. JOCK. I, Charlie (Charlotte), have no time for Jackson’s antics. Not when he’s stealing my food or teases me to no end, making me tingle in all the right places. If I was ever going to have a boyfriend, I'd choose one who isn’t a Neanderthal. One with manners and actual time to spend with me. Not a hulking man-child who cruises the strip at night, in his Big. Dumb. Truck.