Showing results for "The Situation" in Contemporary

It's official: my step bro is the biggest himbo ever to himbo. He's a massive blond beefcake with a soft heart and an over-eager smile. The mere sight of him incites a shaking hot rage in me. He's everywhere. He's around me all the time. So sweet and gentle that it makes me feel wild. I see him and smell him everywhere. When I can't see him or smell him, I hear him. The wall between our bedrooms is paper thin. I can't help it—I hear what he does in his room when he thinks he's alone. I hear everything.

Easton Calloway needs a wifey, pronto, and he chooses me to temporarily fill the position. While I want to tell him to eff off, I can't walk away from the temptation. So, I do what any broke actress living in New York City would do, and I agree to the terms and conditions. It should be easy: a year of marriage, a cushy penthouse in the city, and a spending allowance. After three hundred sixty-five days, I'll receive divorce papers and a check in the mail. All I have to do is pretend we're happily married without falling in love.

Yeah, so I found my girlfriend in bed with another man. It happens, even to famous star athletes like me. I’m not the kind of guy that lets that stuff bring him down. What do I do? Rebound. Simple. That’s how I meet Grace: Stunning, funny, wild in bed, and she enjoys the ‘no strings attached’ kind of thing. It’s almost too good to be true. That’s when I find out it really is…

Every bride dreams of her wedding day. Today was supposed to be that day for me, except it’s not me marrying my college sweetheart. My best friend is doing that. Or, well, my ex-best friend. Instead, I’m over a thousand miles away, riding the subway in a city where lost people come to dream. Me—I’m just hoping to distract myself from my heartbreak. That is, until I met Jake Worthing. Grumpy. Hot. A total jerk. Did I mention hot?

When the end finally occurred, everything about it was cinematic. The dead came back and ate people, civilization collapsed, and no one could do a thing. But Cyrus V. Sinclair couldn’t care less; he’s a sociopath. Amidst the chaos, Cyrus sits back and contemplates the gore stained streets and screams of his fellow man with little more emotion than one of the walking corpses. With his cache of guns and MREs, he rather likes the idea of hunkering down in his Seattle apartment while the world ends outside.

Paige, la productrice de l'émission, est ambitieuse, têtue, et elle déteste Gannon, ses œillades pseudosensuelles et ses caprices de diva. Mais Paige s'est jurée de rester professionnelle coûte que coûte.

A sexy rockstar walking into your hotel room sounds like a dream come true. When you're in the middle of some serious self-pleasure like I was, it's a freaking nightmare. It gets worse. What I thought was my room...was actually his. I'd just given last year's hottest new talent a performance worthy of my own Grammy. Now everyone is talking about the girl who got her rocks off in Brix Wilson's hotel room. Nobody knows I'm that girl and it's going to stay that way. It's not like I'm going to run into him again, right? Wrong.

Sounds like the start of a crude joke, right? Yeah, well, the joke's on me because I'm investigating the gorgeous one in the heels with the great body. Jensen Montgomery. Now, I'm treading that area between right and wrong, good and bad, where sin and honor meld to become gray.

Les hôpitaux n'ont plus aucun secret pour Sissi, atteinte d'une grave maladie du cœur depuis son enfance. Cloîtrée entre ces murs aseptisés, l'ennui la ronge. Elle ne peut compter que sur son golden retriever pour lui remonter le moral et la distraire. Jusqu'à l'arrivée de Jameson... Jameson est amené à l'hôpital après un énième combat de boxe illégale. Il se retrouve à devoir partager la chambre de Sissi. Et cette colocation forcée leur déplait dès leur première rencontre. Ils se détestent instantanément.

Mackenzie "Max" Miller has a problem. Her parents have arrived in town for a surprise visit, and if they see her dyed hair, tattoos, and piercings, they just might disown her. Even worse, they’re expecting to meet a nice wholesome boyfriend, not a guy named Mace who has a neck tattoo and plays...

That hot guy tied to Lissianna Argeneau's bed? He's not dessert—he's the main course! Lissianna has been spending her centuries pining for Mr. Right, not just a quick snack, and this sexy guy she finds in her bed looks like he might be a candidate. But there's another, more pressing issue: her...

The Ballers may have the upper hand at RHS. I underestimated them, their cruelty, their ability to look the other way when something hits them over the head, but camp is a whole other story. Their asses are mine.

I knew I'd ruffle feathers, but the day I walked into Rockport High, I had no idea the cheap shots that were to follow. You see, the Ballers and I have a history. They play basketball. I play basketball. But they hate that I play basketball as good as them. And the only thing they hate more than that, is me. That's right. I'm a girl, and I. Can. Play. Make no mistake about it. The Ballers can do their worst, but I will earn a spot on the RHS boys' team. This is my last resort to make a name for myself, and I can't let them interfere.