When she's not pursuing an outdoor adventure, Ali's less healthy passions include ice cream, coffee, and beer.
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Also by Ali Dean
Pepper Jones Series
Pepped Up (Pepper Jones #1)
All Pepped Up (Pepper Jones #2)
Pepped Up & Ready (Pepper Jones #3)
Pep Talks (Pepper Jones #4)
Pepped Up Forever (Pepper Jones #5)
Pepped Up & Wilder (Pepper Jones #6)
Pepper Series Standalone Spinoff
Chasing Indigo
Stark Springs Academy Series
Black Diamond
Double Black
Black Ice
Spark Sisters Series
The Line Below
Kick
Defiance Falls Series
Defiance Falls
Defiance Falls Revolution
Defiance Falls War
Brazen Series
Brazen Rush
Brazen Steele
Brazen Girl
Brazen Tricks
Standalones
Elusive
Doubles Love
Sneak Peek
Have you met Pepper Jones? Here’s a sneak peek into the first chapter of the first book in the series, Pepped Up. (No cliffhangers in this series.)
Pepped Up
This right here is what I live for. The steady rhythm of my feet landing softly on dirt. Colorado sunshine heating the fresh morning air. Birds singing as they swoop in and out of trees. And Dave frolicking beside me with his tongue lolling out to the side.
I want to capture the exhilaration and peace flowing through my veins, pulsing through my soul. Who needs a vice when you can attain an utter sense of being alive with such simple ingredients? Blue sky, fresh air, and, of course, man’s best friend. Dave’s feeling it, too - runner’s high. Endorphin rush. Call it what you will.
We turn off the single track and cross the footbridge separating the foothills from Brockton’s residential neighborhoods. I could easily run for another hour or two, but my training schedule calls for a forty-five-minute easy jog, and I’m already pushing an hour.
I used to think that being a disciplined athlete was all about pushing hard. But I was wrong. It’s really about knowing when to hold back, being patient enough to do it, and then pushing hard when the time comes.
I got into running on my first day of high school, almost by accident. Having never played sports when I was younger, I was pretty clueless about how they worked, but it turned out I was fast – really fast – and immediately made varsity and even qualified for the State meet. But since I had no idea of strategy, starting every run with a full-on sprint was all I knew to do, so “crash and burn” became my motto for the first few races.
I now have two cross country seasons and two track seasons under my belt, and I’ve learned how to pace myself at races and in workouts. But this season presents a new challenge. I need to pace myself over the course of the whole season. Not just for twenty minutes or so, but for three and a half months, or fourteen weeks.
I’m usually beat, mentally and physically, after the State meet, but if all goes well, I’ll be racing for a month longer than past seasons. First I have to qualify for Regionals at the State meet, and then I have to qualify for Nationals at Regionals. Until then, I’ve got to hold back. Easier said than done.
I wind through the familiar streets, my empty stomach coming to attention when the smell of bacon from someone’s kitchen floats by. When I turn onto Shadow Lane, slowing to a walk for my cool-down, I see a silver Mercedes Benz pulling up in front of the Wilders’ house. I narrow my eyes at it, watching Jace Wilder get out from the passenger side. His biceps flex as he holds the top of the door to lean in the open window and say something to the driver. Reaching in the car window, he retrieves a box of donuts before walking towards his house.
The car drives away from the Wilders’ house in my direction and slows as it passes me on the sidewalk. I recognize Madeline Brescoll when she rolls down her window. “Hi, Pepper.” Her voice is filled with self-satisfaction. Through the window, I can see she looks gorgeous as usual.
I raise my hand in an unenthusiastic wave. “Morning.”
She flashes me an insincere smile, turns up the radio and drives away. I glance down at Dave, who’s licking sweat off my shin. He’s unimpressed. He might be the first male of any species to snub her