Brody McKinnon is Whitmore University's star defenseman destined for NHL greatness. He made a name for himself playing juniors before gracing us with his esteemed presence. As much as it pains me to admit it, he’s exploded at the college level. While other girls fall all over themselves trying to gain his attention, I do my best to steer clear. For reasons I can't fathom, Brody takes great pleasure in messing with me. And I, in return, enjoy slicing him to ribbons with my razor-sharp tongue. You'd think after three years, he'd learn to keep his distance. No such luck.

I don’t want you. You mean nothing to me. I never loved you. I turned my words into swords. And I cut her down. Shoved the blade in and watched her fall. I said I’d never hurt her and I did. Years later I’m faced with all the little lies, the untruths, the false realities, the damage I inflicted when all I wanted was to indulge in my obsession. Lavender Waters is the princess in the tower. Even her name is the thing fairy tales are made of. I used to be the one who saved her. Over and over again.

Laila: I've tried to like Adrian Savage, the mercurial frontman for Fugitive Summer, while serving as his band's opening act on tour. But it's proved impossible. Global thirst trap that he is, however, I can't resist having some fun at his expense. Specifically, I've decided not only to give Savage the sound tongue lashing his cocky ass deserves--one nobody else has the balls to deliver--I'm also determined to bring that brooding bad boy to his knees.

Sold to the mob. Four words I never thought I'd utter. Worse, it was my father who did the unthinkable. When the creditors come to collect, I'm handed over to the most ruthless man in New York City—Luca Valentino. The head of the notorious Kings is as gorgeous as he is lethal. Dark, possessive, and violent. Nothing like the boy I grew up with, my dead brother's best friend.

Troy Alexander is sex on a stick and every girl’s dream at John Rushmore University. He’s also the bane of my existence. Our meet-cute wasn’t exactly cute. He called me a nerd, and I accused him of slacking off on the field. Now, we have to live together. I’m supposed to try to play nice to keep a roof over my head. Not in my nature. Our arrangement could be a living hell, but slowly, I realize the worst thing he ever did wasn’t calling me names.

Trust me when I say that Rowan Michaels fever is alive and well at Western University. His fanbase is legendary. The guy is a major player. Both on and off the field. Girls fall all over themselves to be with him. They fill the stands at football practice, show up at parties he’s rumored to be at, and basically stalk him around campus. It’s a little nauseating. Don’t these girls have any self-respect when it comes to a hot guy? Fine...I’ll admit it, he’s good looking. If you’re into that kind of thing. Which I’m not.

I’ve been raised to be the perfect mafia wife, but when my marriage turns into a horrific nightmare, I have no choice but to leave everything behind and start a new life. I find myself alone in Ibiza—a place that swallows innocent girls like me alive. I’m robbed the day I arrive, left with nothing but a few euros and the clothes on my back.

He’s dark. Dirty. Dangerous. A brother in my dad’s MC. Everything Mom told me to avoid. Everything I shouldn’t want. But his dark, his dirty, and his dangerous are like catnip to me. He stirs fear into the hearts of men, but I hear his rage. I feel it like it’s my own. He’s a killer. Shameless. Some might even call him a psycho. I just call him soul mate. We were born to raise hell together.

From USA Today and Wall Street Journal best-selling author Meagan Brandy comes an all-new stand-alone romance set in college about a hotshot pitcher and the girl he never saw coming.

Carter Beckett is the NHL’s resident bad boy, top player both on the ice and in the bedroom, and quite possibly the sexiest man to ever grace my field of vision. But worst of all? He knows it. He’s arrogant, self-centered, and the man doesn’t seem to know what a filter is, let alone how to use one. He’s had everything served to him on a silver platter, including endless strings of women, and apparently, I’m up next. I have the solution to all my sexual frustrations in a drawer at home, and it’s far less complicated than Carter Beckett.