Crash Course

Book 0: Ashford Academy

by Piper Lawson

Genres: General Fiction; Romance; Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance; Sports Romance

Synopsis

A spicy, angsty, slow-burn F1 academy romance about fast cars, forbidden attraction, and family secrets from USA Today bestselling author Piper Lawson.

Shay MacDonald was raised to avoid two things: race cars and the Ashford family. But when an injury puts her mechanic father on bedrest, she vows to save his career by covertly covering his shifts at the Ashford garage and enrolling at Ashford Academy—an elite school that trains aspiring drivers and engineers, like herself, for the lucrative F1 circuit. 

Keeping a low profile is out of the question when she has a run-in with the Ashford brothers on day one. Theo and Jameson are racing royalty who know they can get away with anything. Theo, the charming and reckless playboy, tempts her to break every rule, while Jameson, the brilliant prodigy, unsettles her with a cold intensity that cuts deeper than she expects. 

Shay will always be the adopted daughter of a mechanic, trying to survive unnoticed in a world that was never meant for her. But Theo and Jameson’s only reprieve from their father’s sky-high expectations is Shay. She’s a shiny new pawn in their old rivalry—or a prize worth risking everything for.

When a competition to work on the F1 circuit brings her further into their orbit, Shay is forced to work harder to protect her secrets. But the deeper she’s pulled into the world of the rich and famous Ashfords, the more she realizes everyone is keeping secrets.

Secrets that could shatter her past, her future…and her heart.

Release date: October 20, 2026

Publisher: Berkley XO

Print pages: 384

Sample

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1

Shay

I don't hear the car coming.

One second I'm walking, lost in my music and my own head, and the next the world lurches sideways.

Porsche 911 Turbo.

Recognition hits me at the same moment as the impact. I go sprawling toward the pavement in front of the vehicle. My hands shoot down to break my fall, pain streaking up my side as my hip slams into the asphalt.

My headphones fly off my ears, the plastic shattering, but that's not the worst part. Somehow, I'm on the road and the car is still moving toward me.

I've been under plenty of cars, and on a good day, there's nowhere I'd rather be. Nothing compares to the feeling of control, the rightness of knowing every component is doing its part.

But it's a lot easier to appreciate those things when the car over me isn't in gear.

My stomach plummets. Ground clearance on a Porsche 911 is about six inches, hardly enough for it to drive clean over me like some Vin Diesel movie stunt. Not without taking a strip of my face and tits with it. I like those parts of my body, at least enough to want to keep both intact.

Instinct has me reaching to grasp my necklace under my jacket, the cool ring attached digging into my flesh. Is this what it was like for my parents? Their final moments before being engulfed in fire and metal-

The burning tang of gasoline fumes cuts through my panic as the Porsche grinds to a halt. My feet are nearly under the front of the car, heat rolling off the engine and scorching my skin.

"What the fuck?!" The exclamation, alarmed and male, comes from someone I can't see. "Are you-don't move the car-ah, hell!"

Shoes scuff the asphalt. A moment later, their owner appears over me, haloed by the sun.

I've never been religious, but I swear he's an angel.

Wavy dirty blond hair. Square jaw. Symmetrical face. Full mouth. An unbuttoned dress shirt and jeans that hug his legs to perfection.

Do angels swear? Today they do, I decide as he holds out a hand.

I grab for it, and he pulls me up. My feet find the pavement under me, my legs still shaking.

"Are you hurt?" His concerned gaze drops to my hand.

My palms are studded with gravel from the road mixed with my own blood. They don't hurt yet thanks to the adrenaline cocktail pounding in my veins.

"It looks worse than it is. You should see the other guy." My bravado's returning.

Kind blue eyes search my face. He looks to be my age, maybe a little older as he bends to grab the pieces of my headphones off the pavement.

"I'm Theo."

I know. Everyone in this town knows him and his family, plus half the country and a good part of the planet. I start to say the words but stop just in time as I take the headphones with my good hand. "Thanks."

His handsome face twists with regret, as if he can repair the broken plastic with contrition alone. "I'm sorry about-"

"Theo!" A sharp voice cuts him off.

If Theo's an angel, the guy leaning out the driver-side window has fallen from grace.

Dark hair falls recklessly across a lean, impatient face. Sunglasses cover his eyes. He's James Dean in a Porsche.

And he's pissed.

Well, so am I. "You ever driven a car before?" My shout comes out like a gasp as I spin to face him, my good fist banging on the hood.

The devil behind the wheel yanks the sunglasses off, leaning an elbow on the door. "You ever walk down a street before? The road's not your fucking catwalk."

His eyes are steel blue, fringed with dark lashes and narrowed in accusation. He's striking, like the frozen river behind my house-cool and smooth, right up until you stick a foot through the ice.

I fist the broken pieces of headphone in my hand. "We'll see what the cops have to say."

"No." It's one word, a low command over the purr of the car, delivered in a voice even colder and more assured than the rest of him. "You won't tell a soul. Not the police. Not your best friend. Not whatever townie hookup gets you off Friday night. Keep this to yourself as long as you live."

I brush dirt off my jeans, which only makes the gravel burrow deeper into my palm. "So, not long if it's up to you."

His eyes narrow as he shoves the driver's door open.

"You're going to the academy?" My rescuer reaches for my book bag, which also wound up on the road, and holds it up. The "A" for Ashford Academy is embroidered on the front in white script.

The driver's knuckles go white on the doorframe.

"I'll walk you there," Theo says, shouldering my bag as he leans toward my ear. "But let's take the sidewalk."

✜


It’s only a few blocks to campus and its main building. I’m momentarily speechless as I lay eyes on the two-story wonder of glass and metal that’s every bit as unique as what’s inside.

"At least they're not Bose," Theo offers as we head past a front parking lot toward the doors. "The headphones," he goes on at my blank expression.

"Right. Cheap to replace. Too bad I can't get new hands," I joke.

"I'll hook you up with new ones."

"Hands?"

"Headphones." His eyes glint. It's probably a trick of the light, because there's no way Theo is flirting with me.

In high school, I was voted most likely to spend prom night covered in grease stains in her garage. I was never the person who joined sports or cheerleading or even band. Not the one that hot guys looked at like . . .

Well, the way Theo's looking at me right now.

Attractive people walk in and out of the front doors in groups of two or three, the Ashford logo emblazoned on bags matching the name on the front of the building.

I bet they're talking about important things. I bet their hands don't look as if they were victimized by a cheese grater.

Ashford Academy is nothing like a regular college. This elite school training drivers, engineers, and mechanics for the global F1 circuit only opens its doors to a select group of prodigies: late teen and early twenty-somethings who eat, sleep, and breathe cars. Nine out of ten applicants get turned down. If you're accepted, it means Ashford Racing Inc. thinks you have a chance in hell of helping them do one thing.

Be the fastest on the planet.

"I'm sorry about my brother." Theo's words jolt me out of my head. "He's . . ."

"A threat to public safety?"

"I was going to say charming." He chuckles. "So, we've established that I'm Theo. You are?"

"I didn't say."

"Okay, New Girl. I like a mystery."

More than a few passing students look over at us, whispering to one another as if the fact that we're even standing together is news.

Theo doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"This is where I leave you." He shields his eyes from the sun. "But you should get checked out by a nurse."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"That sounds noncommittal."

"Noncommittal is my specialty."

He laughs before handing me my bag. Neither of us seems ready to move but I'm still looking for a reason to keep him at a distance, like I keep most people.

"Are you going to say the same thing your brother did?" I ask finally. "Not to tell anyone?"

He sighs. "Give me your phone."

I can't think of a good reason to refuse, so I reach into my bag for it and pass it over. He types a few keystrokes before handing it back.

"My number. If you need anything."

"In case I need to call Theo Ashford," I echo, the doubt clear in my voice.

This time, he grins. "So you do know who I am."

"Obviously." My lips curve too, and somehow, I'm a little breathless. "Your name's on the building."

The Ashfords represent exclusivity and speed and prestige. But one of them is standing in front of me with a disarming smile as if we're equals. No, it's more than that-as if the fact I'm talking to him is as much his privilege as mine.

"I hope your day gets better, New Girl." With a wink, Theo turns on his heel and heads for the parking lot, where the Porsche now sits in front of a reserved sign.

The driver's getting out, his sunglasses back in place. I can't know if he's watching, but I'd bet on it.

2

Shay

The Ashfords.

Of the possibilities I imagined for my first day of the semester, meeting them was not on my bingo card.

Though I've watched four-time F1 champion driver Luca Ashford race on screens my entire life, this is the closest I've come to his family. Photos and video clips hardly do Luca's sons justice. I've never seen anyone so beautiful in real life.

Shaking myself, I turn for the building and walk straight into the glass doors.

I manage to avoid falling on my ass but catch sight of myself reflected on the surface. Brown hair escaping its messy ponytail. Lined eyes looking more haunted than edgy. Chapped lips always in need of lip balm. Thank fuck for my leather jacket-without it, I'd probably have a hole in my long-sleeved T-shirt, courtesy of the Porsche.

"I ran into them my first day," a slender girl with wavy black hair appears in the reflection next to me.

"The Ashfords?"

"The doors. They scrub them sparkly clean every hour." She smiles, her teeth bright against flawless golden skin. "I'm Megan."

"Shay." Her warmth is a lifeline. I breathe in for what feels like the first time all morning. "Is it that obvious I'm new?"

"I clocked it fifty feet away." Megan holds out a hand and I hold up mine. Her gaze lands on the angry red skin. "I'm guessing that's not from the door."

As much as I'd like to defy Theo's brother, I hesitate to volunteer the details to a stranger. "I fell."

Megan seems to accept it, opening the offending door and motioning me through. Her pink sweater billowing in the breeze, she looks as out of place as I feel.

"I'm supposed to be in class." I pull up my schedule on my phone.

She looks over my shoulder. "Wait. You're second year, like me." She blinks, flashing bright blue eyeliner.

There are a million questions on her face, but I only answer one. "I'm a transfer. I was taking mechanical engineering at Ohio State."

"Wow. Okay." Megan looks as if she wants to press but relents. "Well, going late to class is worse than skipping, so we might as well clean that up. I've got Neosporin."

She ushers me down the hall and into a huge bathroom. "So, I can already tell you're an overachiever. It's your first day and I saw you talking to an Ashford outside."

"Technically, I've met two." I extend my right hand over the sink, hissing at the sting of the cool water rinsing away the gravel. "Nice guys."

Megan's lips twitch as she rummages through her bag for first aid supplies. Everything inside is pink. I even glimpse a pink torque wrench. "Theo, maybe, but not Jameson. They're used to people falling over them. Everyone in this building wants to fuck an Ashford. You might have a shot with Theo."

His grin flashes in my mind, along with those dimples, that athletic body, the warmth of his hand in mine when he helped me up.

"I'm not interested." I ignore the little shiver that runs through me as I lay the gauze pad she passes me across my palm. The sting of pain is sharper than I expect.

"If your heart or panties are set on Jameson," she misreads my comment, "you're out of luck. Unless you're driving at least a V8 engine, big brother won't give you so much as the time of day."

Ice blue eyes appear in my mind without permission.

"If you're smart, you'll stay out of their way." Megan grins. "Tell me you're a smart girl, Shay."

"Can I get back to you?"

She laughs and hooks an arm through mine as she leads us back into the hall. "I knew we were going to be friends."

Surprise has me blinking. Her easy acceptance throws me nearly as much as getting hit by the Porsche.

It's politeness, not interest, I decide. People are not my strong suit. I've always had trouble reading them, understanding what they want, what I should want from them in return. Cars are predictable. They feel like home.

"I'm going to walk you around the building. Then we'll grab terrible coffee and I'll get you to your second class. Thank goodness you're technical track, like me," Megan says. "I can tell because engineers look at a car like it's a puzzle."

"And the drivers?"

Her eyes sparkle, or maybe it's the blue eyeliner. "They look at a car like it's an animal to tame."

There's nothing subtle about Formula 1. It's a sport that pits the twenty fastest drivers in the world against one another in ungodly fast cars. Picture teams of the most brilliant engineers, designers, and mechanics, all financed by the deepest pockets.

They do it at demanding tracks in glamorous locations, with millions of fans.

Still, every one of those drivers and engineers had to start somewhere.

Ashford Academy is exactly that kind of place.

The building is somehow even more beautiful inside than outside. It's shiny and modern, full of glass and pale wood. Doors off the main hallway lead to classrooms and labs, most of which appear to be occupied.

"We're one of the only schools that has both drivers and engineers. PR touts it as a new model of education blending science and sport. Really, though, it's a talent incubator for ARI's empire." Megan launches into tour guide mode.

"Ashford has a racing-federation-sanctioned track at the ARI F1 garage about ten minutes west of campus." She points out a massive window cut into the side of the hallway toward the manicured greens outside.

"Driver candidates get their licenses through sim hours, safety exams, and races." She sounds like she's reading off a brochure as we pass another open door with a dozen new, state-of-the-art sims inside.

"What's down there?" I ask. The hallway intersects another wing, this one even wider with lockers flanking either side.

"Garages. For mechanical classes and special projects."

Megan shows me how to find my classes and tells me where to park once I get my pass so I can skip the awkward bus trip that let me off eight blocks away.