Showing results by author "Sara Ney" in All Categories

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.

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.

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.

What if... Someone you barely knew asked you for a favor. What if... They needed you to be something you weren’t, in exchange for nothing. Unless you count a mouth full of lies and a half-broken heart. Faker. Pretender. Liar. There are worse things to be called. So would you do it? Would you? Daphne Winthrop did. And you’re about to find out what happens in the end.

Long black hair and even longer legs, Tess Donahue had lost the braces and gained the confidence she never had as a teenager. She's hilarious, pretty—and when I see her in those cowboy boots? Whoa. Stolen glances. Flirty banter. One drunk filled night. Suddenly, my uncomplicated weekend of "living a little" in my hometown becomes a lifetime being tied to the one girl that was off limits.

I, Dallas Colter, am kind of a massive A hole-and need help fixing that personality problem. With too much on my plate, the very last thing on my mind is a relationship-the football draft is looming, I never understood why my teammates bother with girlfriends. None of us had the time. When my sports agent suggests that being seen in public with a "respectable" girl would be good for my bad reputation, I couldn't think of a single person to help me out. The only girls I know aren't wifey material, and the ones who are? Might catch feelings. Except Ryann Winters.

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.

I, Drake Colter, solemnly swear I DO NOT WANT a girlfriend . . . Carefree and ridiculously good-looking, I have the entire student body eating from the palm of my hand—shouldn't I let the ladies on campus have their fill rather than being tied down? If only my brother Drew would take notes from my playbook. As identical twins, we share the same voice, the same face, and the same physique; it's virtually impossible to tell us apart—but that's where the similarities end.

What is the Bachelors Club? It’s a gentleman’s club - like the dignified men of the past used to have. Except, we’re not gentlemen, and we’re not dignified. We’re ineligible bachelors, bored, jaded and not looking for relationships. Quite the opposite actually. So committed to being single, we’ve created a high-stakes bet to see who can remain single the longest....

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.

Some girls have all the luck. Unfortunately, I am not one of those girls. Not when I lost my apartment because my roommate let the lease lapse while I travel for work. Not when my brothers keep finding love and my mother keeps reminding me I'm still single. Not after a one-night stand during my older brother's wedding has me waking up pregnant. I have to keep it a secret - from him and my family.

Wrangling lumberjacks for Star Lake’s Fall Fest has wedding and event planner Annabelle Franklin ready to saw some serious wood. When her best friend suggests a staycation, she’s all in. Too bad the cabin she books is already occupied—by a brawny Scot who just won’t budge. The good news? Callum “Maverick” McBride has abs to spare and a voice that could fell trees (and drop panties). Did I mention he owns two kilts? Recuperating from surgery, the Arizona linebacker just wants privacy. And since he was there first, he refuses to give an inch.

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.

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.

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.

Abigail Darlington will never be "that" girl. You know the one: that girl on campus, confident in her own skin. Always saying the right things. Putting herself out there. Knows how to talk to a guy without stammering. Abby is fine being the wallflower in her circle of outgoing, beautiful friends; she would rather read about a sexy book boyfriend than actually have a live, breathing one. Star goaltender for the university's hockey team, Caleb is quiet and broody, preferring the solitude of his orderly, regimented life. He doesn't like or need people—and plans to keep it that way.

Falling for Luca Babineaux obviously wasn't part of the game plan. It never is, is it? He wants to go public with our relationship. I'd rather not. Now I have to decide what matters more: keeping my promises to my dumb, overprotective brother...or choose myself for once. All's fair in love and hockey. Right?

I didn't mean to roast Gio Montagalo, goalie and crown jewel of The Houston Baddies hockey team. Honestly, I was screaming at the television in a sports bar like any self-respecting sports junkie! So when his sister sidles up on the stool beside me, laughing at my commentary, I figured I'd made a fan, too. What I didn't expect? For her brother—the guy I called "a flashy ice peacock with the reflexes of a sloth"—to hear about it. Next thing I know, Gio is in my DMs with a challenge: "Hold up a sassy sign at my game and hit me with your best shot. Roast me in front of everyone."

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?

When a squirrel chews its way through my bedroom wall, I do the first thing any single girl like me would do: run frantically out of the house to the neighbors, begging for help. I should mention that the house next door is full of hockey players. And when I lock eyes on rough and rugged Brodie Stockhausen—who happens to be outside brooding on the porch—I'm not exactly impressed. But I'm desperate, in a bathrobe, and need a bit of rescuing.