Showing results by author "Sara Ney" in All Categories

I would do anything for my best friend. Well. Almost anything. When she begs me to come on a weekend getaway so I can bond with her new boyfriend, I can't say no-no matter how badly I want to. After all, who will keep an eye on the guy; he's your stereotypical, professional football player (emphasis on PLAYER) and I don't trust him with my friend's heart.

I knew something was wrong the second she walked in the door tonight; I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. Same hair color. Same legs. Same face. Except...I look harder. At the small dimple beneath her lip that wasn't there the last time we went out. And her laugh - that laugh isn't as loud. This isn't the girl I've gone out with the past few weeks. It's her twin sister, and they've switched places on me.

"Hard pass." That's what the last girl I slept with said when she got her first sober glimpse of me. She laughed, walked out of my penthouse - and I never saw her again. It doesn't matter that I'm a rich, professional athlete; what mattered was my face. Beauty might only be skin deep for some - but I know better. "Pay up." That's what the last girl I spoke to said over the phone when I made her an offer she couldn't refuse.

No doubt about it, Sebastian "Oz" Osborne is the university's most celebrated student athlete - and possibly the biggest douchebag. A walking, talking cliché, he has a filthy mouth, a fantastic body, and doesn't give a sh-t about what you or anyone else thinks. Jameson Clarke may be the university's most diligent student - but she is no prude. Spending most of her time in the hallowed halls of the library, James is wary of pervs, jocks, and douchebags - and Oz Osborne is all three. She's smart, sarcastic - and not what he expected....

Scarlett is always the sensible one: The sober driver. The planner. The one holding your hair back while you're worshiping the porcelain gods. Week-after-week, she visits Jock Row with her friends - the university's hottest party scene and a breeding ground for student athletes. And if keeping her friends out of trouble and guys out of their pants was a sport, she'd be the star athlete. Being a well known jock-blocker gets her noticed for all the wrong reasons; just like that, she's banned from Jock Row. No guy wants a girl around who keeps their jock friends from getting laid.

Piper has been crushing on Ryder Williams for years. What better chance to make her move on him than when he’s sacrificing himself on an auction block for a squealing mass of fans at a charity event? Too bad she’d rather hide in the bathroom than raise her paddle; what girl actually bids on a guy who doesn’t know she exists? Not. Piper. But that's what friends are for. One meddling best friend, and an overpriced bid later, and Ryder Willams is Piper's for the taking. Too bad that she has no intention of collecting on his debt.

There are no douchebags in this story. Well, there are, but they're not who this story is about. This story is about me - the coach's daughter. When I moved to Iowa to live with my dad, the university's take-no-prisoners wrestling coach, I thought transferring would be easy as pie - living with my father would be temporary, and he'd make sure his douchebag wrestlers left me alone. Wrong on both counts.

Love finds you when you least expect it. That's what my nan always said. Love? I wasn't looking for it, so how will I know when I've found it? I'm not romantic like she was—I'm realistic and practical. Quick with my wits and hilarious when I'm in the mood, it'll take more than a handsome face to win my affection. Speaking of handsome faces—Elias Cohen is nothing special (no offense); smug, arrogant. Too flirtatious for his own good. He won't charm me with that crooked smile and dimple in his chin.

Kip Carmichael is no pretty boy. He's rough. Dirty. Giant. Hair so unruly, and a beard so thick, his friends on the team call him Sasquatch. The first time Sasquatch lays eyes on Theodora "Teddy" Johnson across the keg at a party one night on Jock Row, she'd been relegated to the sidelines by her jock-hungry "friends". Week after week, he watches beautiful but bashful Teddy getting overshadowed and overlooked. Sasquatch finally broad-shoulders his way through the crowd, offering to to be her hairy godmother. But the minute their eyes meet? He's a goner.

My friends want me to get laid. So much so that they plastered my ugly mug all over campus in bold printed letters: Are you the lucky lady who's going to break our roommate's cherry? Him: Socially awkward man with average-sized penis looking for willing sexual partner. You: Must have a pulse. He will reciprocate with oral. Text him at: 555-254-5551. The morons can't even spell. And the texts I've been receiving are what wet dreams are made of. But I'm not like these douchebags, no matter how hard they try to turn me into one.

Trust me—if there's one thing I'm not attracted to, it's the shrieking, overly-dramatic shrew that's taken over my sister's apartment. And what is up with her hair? I know what I want; an easy, uncomplicated lay—and Cecelia Carter sure as shit isn't one. But I never could resist a challenge, and vow to wipe that condescending grin off her pretty face. Aw, shit. Did I just call her pretty?

Studious and sensible, the only thing Molly Wakefield wants to do is get through senior year and graduate. That, and hit the beach in her spare time. Maybe even read a book or two. And things are going great—until the day she catches Weston McGrath, handsome star athlete and scholar, spying on her in study hall. A tad creepy? Maybe. Thrilling? Absolutely. Why? Because Weston McGrath is one guy no one can get close to. Despite her efforts to avoid him, Molly and Weston form an unlikely friendship. But it's a friendship that comes with a price—because Weston cannot stop screwing up.

Jack Dryden-Jones is easily the worst rugby player on the field — when he moves to The States to follow in his big brothers footsteps, he has no idea he’d hate the game. So horrible he considers faking an injury to take himself out of the game.

Ashley Dryden-Jones is the best rugby player on the field - when I take a dare I instantly regret, I had no way of knowing he was a gentleman. An athlete. British with no plans to stay in the States. He makes me forget myself, bruises, five o’clock shadow, accent, and all. He makes me forget I cannot crawl into bed with him at night - or get drunk and throw caution to the wind for once in my overly cautious life. Because he’s my new roommate.

I never thought I would get pregnant in college. When I did, I thought leaving Jack Jennings was doing him a giant favor—he had a bright future ahead of him as a football star—the last thing he needed was me and a baby standing in his way of his dreams. Honestly? I figured he would eventually forget about me. I would raise our child in secret and watch Jack on television, and the pain of what I'd done to him would heal.

All I need is a place to hide for a few weeks. The paparazzi were on my case 24/7 and I needed a bit of breathing room—an escape from the madness—before the media frenzy begins. Sure, I could have gone to a secluded cabin in the woods—but I didn't want to be bored out of my mind. I'd seen enough wide open spaces as a kid from Texas to last me a lifetime. So instead, I let my sports agent hook me up with a modest house in the burbs where we didn't think anyone would find me hiding in plain sight.

Tabitha Thompson is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. Unless you count the sexy secret she’s spent a year hiding from everyone: her friends, her family. The secret she never counted on anyone discovering.

Roman Whitaker is every girl’s best friend. An easy going nice guy, Rome is brilliant, and funny. At the age of 22, he’s moving out of his parents’ house for the first time and into off-campus housing with two complete strangers.

What is The Bachelor Society? It's a gentleman's club - like the dignified men of the past used to have. Except, we're not gentleman, and we’re not dignified. We're ineligible bachelors; bored, jaded and not looking for relationships. Quite the opposite actually.... We're so committed to being single, we've created a high stakes bet to see who can remain single the longest. Rules are involved. Prizes. Laugh it up, but I'm no loser.