Got boy problems? Call Laney Scott. She’s good for advice, a shoulder, or a swift kick where you need it. When her roommate Bethany gets her heart broken by Aiden, yet again, it’s Laney to the rescue. But Laney’s harboring a secret. She’s nursing her own broken heart. But, she and her friends come up with a plan to break Aiden, and set it into play. Laney wants Aiden to pay for what he’s done to Bethany. She will make him fall in love with her, so she can break his heart.
Laney’s ex-boyfriend Lachlan Hems is back in Florida, still Australian and sexy as hell. His best mate Lucas is getting married, and he is in town for the show. He just didn’t realize Laney would be there … in another guy’s arms, or that seeing her again would have such an effect on him. After the incident in high school, he vowed to never care for her again. But sometimes, fate has different plans.
When Laney’s resolve crumbles, Lachlan is the only one who can put her back together again.
Book 2 – HERE WITH ME by Alla Kar
Jaden Baker is stoked about college, making new friends, and erasing the memory of being bullied in high school. But moving on comes with a price. Her dad has made arrangements for her to move into her brother’s apartment so he can keep an eye on her. But there’s a glitch in her dad’s plans. There are also two other college boys living in the apartment too. Suddenly, living in an off-campus apartment with three college-aged boys seems like a bad idea — but not to Jaden. After all, Cade is pretty damn hot, making the whole forced living arrangement and brother-as-a-baby-sitter a little more tolerable.
Cade Jenkins grew up on the opposite side of the tracks from his best-friend and his privileged little sister. His dad bailed when he was a kid, and he can’t help but still care for his drug-addicted mother. This semester, things are looking up. He’s met someone. Too bad she’s his best-friend’s fresh out of high-school, inexperienced little sister. Awkward!
Just when it looks like things might be changing for the better, Jaden finds herself battling severe depression and a broken heart as old feelings re-emergence after that high school bully targets her again. Cade, who’d love to pick up the pieces and make her whole, must fight his own demons and brewing family trouble just to hold on.
If only they didn’t find themselves falling irrevocably in love.
Book 3 – THERE WE’LL BE by Alla Kar
Respect your elders. Stay off Sawyer property. And don’t even think about that Sawyer girl…
Boone Cross was raised with three simple rules, and falling for Josie Sawyer broke every one of them. That is, until a year ago, when he did the unthinkable and she moved away.
Josie Sawyer never thought she’d be on a plane, flying back to Arkansas for the summer, only a year after her heart was crushed into a thousand pieces by the boy her parents forbade her to love. But her father is dying, and being stubborn isn’t an option.
In a town this small, it’s only a matter of time before she runs into Boone Cross.
A lot’s changed since she last laid eyes on him, but some things have remained exactly the same. Boone’s got designs on her and he won’t give up until he gets what he wants.
But as they give in to the need to be together once more, secrets come to light revealing a history of a hatred between their families that runs so deep that even the strongest love may not be able to survive.
BONUS eBOOK – REDEMPTION by Alla Kar
REDEMPTION is the story of an ex-con with a second chance who falls for a girl who just might be too good to be true.
Chapter One
Laney
“And there will be a time, you’ll see.
With no more tears.
And love will not break your heart
but dismiss your fears.” – Mumford & Sons
Cold coffee.
Is there anything worse? Staring down into my owl coffee mug, the cool brown liquid gawks up at me in mock humor. The cord is lying on the counter beside the pot, not plugged into the wall where it was last night. Instead, Heather’s—my looks-obsessed roommate—straightener is plugged in. What’s the point of having a timed coffeepot if it’s unplugged every morning before you get a chance to use it? I grit my teeth and blow my bangs from my forehead.
I snatch the cord from the plug-in and toss the straightener on her bed. Hopefully, she’ll get the point. Instead of pouring the coffee down our sink, I sip on it. Hell shall freeze over before I go a morning without my coffee. Hell frozen-over would probably be hotter than my coffee right now. I grab my backpack, tie my blond hair into a messy bun, push up my thick, black-rim hipster glasses, and walk out of our dorm room.
I lock the door and head toward class, the aroma of perfumes swarming my nose. A few girls in towels race down the hall, screaming. Like clockwork, a tall muscular guy follows behind them, a huge I’m-going-to-get-some grin on his face. College is definitely a guy’s wet dream come true. Especially, in a co-ed dorm. He’ll have one of them pressed against their dorm room door tonight. They’re all so predictable.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s perfectly fine to date. But, doing it wisely is a completely different issue. Girls aren’t the smartest when it comes to dating. The three C’s that guys can’t stand are clinginess, crying, and clumsiness. I know it’s not possible to walk like a runway model twenty-four seven. And we all know girls tend to cry, especially around that time of the month. But it’s all about the game. You’ve got to play it right, so you can snag a great guy. It’s so easy to rope one in as long as you focus, and I don’t mean on his abs.
I’m almost clear of the hallway when I hear my name. I turn on my heel. Heather is frowning from the lounge doorway. Her long black hair is perfectly straightened. I hope she gets a medal for her hair today, because that would be the only reason I’d forgive her for unplugging my coffeepot.
She pouts her pink-coated lips and curls her finger for me to come closer. “She’s crying again.”
Damn it. I don’t have to ask. I know it’s Bethany and I know why she’s crying. It’s the same damn thing every week. Sighing, I walk into the lounge. A few girls surround her, patting her back and trying to calm her down. It’s not going to work, because she’ll be in the same position next week. She glances up over her long lashes and slender nose. Her strawberry blond hair is messy and hangs loosely down to her breasts. “I just—I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. It’s like every time he sees me coming, he goes the opposite direction. What do I do—” she breaks off in a fit of sobs.
I’m thinking of a million different ways to escape when Heather claps her hands loudly. “I know. Laney—why don’t you help her? You helped me with Todd. You got him to ask me out in two days. You could help Bethany.”
Oh, the agony. I don’t know if I could stand two minutes in a room alone with her. I give her a small fake smile and shrug. She looks like the damn cat off of Shrek, with her wide eyes and trembling bottom lip. If I say no I’ll look like a major bitch. “Who is it this ti—?” I stop myself.
She wipes her nose and tries to straighten her hair. I want to tell her that’s not going to work, she needs a brush, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Aiden Sims.”
And the heavens opened up and released the hottest male specimen to come to Jacksonville University. Well, that’s what he thinks anyway. Aiden is the playboy of our small university and he plays his Abercrombie-model good looks to his advantage. I grumble under my breath and pull my strap up my shoulder to keep it from falling.
“Have you had sex with him?”
A few of the hovering girls gasp. Oh, get over it. Bethany shakes her head. “No, we haven’t.”
“Great. That means you still have a chance to get him.”
“Wait,” a redheaded girl says from the corner of the room. “You’re telling me that if we’ve had sex with a guy, and he hasn’t committed, we’re screwed?”
I nod. “Pretty much. You’ve never heard why buy the cow when the milk is free?”
The redhead scoffs. “How do you know so much about this stuff, and who made you queen?”
Rawr. Someone hasn’t had their panties down lately. Heather raises her index finger and rolls her neck; that’s how I know she’s going to tell someone off. “She knows exactly what to do when it comes to getting guys. I’ve been with Todd for five months.”
Red shakes her head. “But why don’t you have a boyfriend then, Laney?”
A long, hard pain starts to build in the depth of my stomach. My eyes feel funny and my heartbeat is heavy in my chest. I will not think about him. No, I refuse. “No one has interested me yet.” Which is almost true, no one at this college has been worth my time. But that’s not the real reason. Red grabs her coffee and sways out of the room. Please, bring me back that coffee!
A tall brunette sitting in the corner clears her throat and leans over the worn lobby chair. “What else. I mean—any other advice?”
Everyone turns to look at me. I should totally charge for this. I shrug. “You can’t show that you’re too interested. No waiting for his text. He needs to be waiting for yours.” I take a sip of my cold coffee. “Don’t throw yourselves at him. Don’t take fifty million pictures on the second date. Make him work for it.”
Most of the girls nod slowly at me, waiting for more advice. I glance at the wall clock. I’m going to be so late.
“Laney,” Bethany asks, drawing my attention back to her. “Can you help me? I don’t know what move to make. Please.”
Can I help you, or will I help you? It’s not like my small job at the writing center takes up that much time. Hell, I have tons of free time. That’s exactly why I have a TBR list on my Kindle a mile long. I tug at my ponytail, then give Heather a defeated look. “Okay, I can help. You want to meet me tonight? We’ll go over our strategy.”
Bethany smiles. I think it’s the first one I’ve seen on her face since she moved in last semester. “Well, I have plans to go out tonight. Aiden is going to be there, if you want to meet up?”
Oh, no. I don’t like where this is going. I’m not a big partier. I’m twenty-two and couldn’t care less about getting wasted. I do it sometimes, but only for celebration or if I’m really bored. “Where are you guys meeting?”
Bethany stands up, adjusting her boobs in her shirt. No wonder guys flock to her, and no wonder they leave. She leaves nothing to the imagination. “The Loft down on King Street.” She places her hands on her slender hips. “You coming? I really want to start now.”
The black lines of mascara running down her face makes me sad. She is really desperate. Crying in the third-floor lounge isn’t the fix-it problem she was looking for and I can’t blame her. All the girls surrounding her right now would advise her to do the absolute wrong thing.
I huff. It’s just one night. “Okay, I’ll meet you there at nine.”
***
Since I was pulled into the lounge this morning, I am ten minutes late for class. Which is something I never am. I walk to my seat, conscious of the entire class watching me like I have a paper bag over my head and I’m waving a gun around.
“Ms. Scott, please tell me there is an excellent reason you’ve missed the first ten minutes of my class.” When college students tell you that college professors don’t call you out like in high school, they’re all a bunch of dirty liars. My professors live to embarrass people. I guess it’s all they have for fun in their old age. And Dr. Phillips is the worst. Definitely not the kind of professor I had in mind when I signed up for creative writing. I love to write short stories, but if I’m going to have to read them to the entire class, I don’t think I like writing them anymore.
“Big fire in my dorm room, everyone was running down the street in their underwear, screaming.” I plop my book bag down in my regular seat. A few of my classmates laugh under their breath.
Dr. Phillips gives me a tight-lipped grin. “Don’t be a smart-mouth, Laney. Sit down and open to page six eighty-six.”
I flip through my book until I land on one of Edgar Allen Poe’s poems. Great, now I have to listen to this depressing bullshit. I swear Dr. Phillips lives to bring his students down.
“Don’t worry, at least you missed the first ten minutes of the torture session,” Jacks says.
I laugh and turn around, handing him one of the Pop-Tarts that was shoved down into the depths of my bag. Jacks’ dorm room is right next to mine. He was the only reason I made it through the first week of school. Where he is nice-looking, tall, blond, and has big brown eyes, he doesn’t act like a hormone-crazed, fifteen-year-old boy. Maybe it has something to do with being older and a senior.
“Thanks, bud. I would go hungry without you.” He takes a large bite and half of the Pop-Tart is already gone.
I shrug, then turn around in my seat, whispering, “I hear I’m hard to live without.”
Jacks laughs and taps my shoulder. I glance back. He holds up a piece of paper with an Ogre-looking guy that, I assume, is Dr. Phillips. He has a huge mustache with Coke-bottle glasses. Not to mention a huge erection. Okay, maybe he doesn’t act that much older.
I can’t help it; I laugh. Loudly. I snort, and that makes Jacks laugh, too. Soon I see a shadow fall over my desk. I glance back, trying my damnedest to give the best innocent look I can conjure up. It doesn’t work.
Dr. Phillips is sneering down at us. He reaches out and snatches the paper from Jacks. “Hmph.” He tears the paper into pieces and crosses his arms. I’m sure he is contemplating some diabolic plan to make our lives hell. “I need to see you both after class.”
Fuck. Narrowing my eyes, I flip Jacks the bird over my shoulder. I hear him chuckle and feel a hard slap on my shoulder.
Class goes by just as slow as it always does, and I know I heard someone snoring in the back row. When everyone starts to get up, I debate hiding behind the tall guy that sits in the back and escaping unnoticed. It doesn’t work. Dr. Phillips’ beady eyes are watching Jacks and me closely.
“Don’t worry, Laney. I got this,” Jacks says, gripping my elbow and leading me toward Dr. Phillips’ desk.
We stand in front of the desk, staring down at him. I feel like I’m in second grade again, when I called a girl in my class a cry baby and got in trouble.
“Ms. Scott and Mr. Tate. I don’t appreciate your lack of respect for my class and myself. So, what to do with you both? I could overlook it…but I don’t think I will.”
Of course not.
Jacks pinches my side and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“I volunteer at the Cook Off down at the YMCA every year. It’s coming up. If you two show up and help, I’ll excuse this rudeness. Then we can go on with our lives.”
Cook Off? What. The. Fuck? Just because Dr. Phillips doesn’t have a life, doesn’t mean we don’t. “I—”
“We’ll be there. When is it?” Jacks asks.
I scrunch my nose and bite back a smartass remark.
“This Sunday at seven. Then the final round will be next Tuesday at six. I suggest you two show up and do your share. I don’t appreciate childish bullshit in my classroom.”
Sure, you don’t. Jacks gives Dr. Phillips a half-assed salute and pulls me closer to the door. “You asshole,” I say, shoving his shoulder.
Jacks raises his palms in mock surrender. “I’m sorry. He was going to make us miss a test or something. You know how they are. I can’t miss any more tests; I’m graduating next semester. And I refuse to stay here any fucking longer.”
I roll my eyes. “I hate you.”
Jacks wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close. “Like hell you do.
Laney
“And there will be a time, you’ll see.
With no more tears.
And love will not break your heart
but dismiss your fears.” – Mumford & Sons
Cold coffee.
Is there anything worse? Staring down into my owl coffee mug, the cool brown liquid gawks up at me in mock humor. The cord is lying on the counter beside the pot, not plugged into the wall where it was last night. Instead, Heather’s—my looks-obsessed roommate—straightener is plugged in. What’s the point of having a timed coffeepot if it’s unplugged every morning before you get a chance to use it? I grit my teeth and blow my bangs from my forehead.
I snatch the cord from the plug-in and toss the straightener on her bed. Hopefully, she’ll get the point. Instead of pouring the coffee down our sink, I sip on it. Hell shall freeze over before I go a morning without my coffee. Hell frozen-over would probably be hotter than my coffee right now. I grab my backpack, tie my blond hair into a messy bun, push up my thick, black-rim hipster glasses, and walk out of our dorm room.
I lock the door and head toward class, the aroma of perfumes swarming my nose. A few girls in towels race down the hall, screaming. Like clockwork, a tall muscular guy follows behind them, a huge I’m-going-to-get-some grin on his face. College is definitely a guy’s wet dream come true. Especially, in a co-ed dorm. He’ll have one of them pressed against their dorm room door tonight. They’re all so predictable.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s perfectly fine to date. But, doing it wisely is a completely different issue. Girls aren’t the smartest when it comes to dating. The three C’s that guys can’t stand are clinginess, crying, and clumsiness. I know it’s not possible to walk like a runway model twenty-four seven. And we all know girls tend to cry, especially around that time of the month. But it’s all about the game. You’ve got to play it right, so you can snag a great guy. It’s so easy to rope one in as long as you focus, and I don’t mean on his abs.
I’m almost clear of the hallway when I hear my name. I turn on my heel. Heather is frowning from the lounge doorway. Her long black hair is perfectly straightened. I hope she gets a medal for her hair today, because that would be the only reason I’d forgive her for unplugging my coffeepot.
She pouts her pink-coated lips and curls her finger for me to come closer. “She’s crying again.”
Damn it. I don’t have to ask. I know it’s Bethany and I know why she’s crying. It’s the same damn thing every week. Sighing, I walk into the lounge. A few girls surround her, patting her back and trying to calm her down. It’s not going to work, because she’ll be in the same position next week. She glances up over her long lashes and slender nose. Her strawberry blond hair is messy and hangs loosely down to her breasts. “I just—I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. It’s like every time he sees me coming, he goes the opposite direction. What do I do—” she breaks off in a fit of sobs.
I’m thinking of a million different ways to escape when Heather claps her hands loudly. “I know. Laney—why don’t you help her? You helped me with Todd. You got him to ask me out in two days. You could help Bethany.”
Oh, the agony. I don’t know if I could stand two minutes in a room alone with her. I give her a small fake smile and shrug. She looks like the damn cat off of Shrek, with her wide eyes and trembling bottom lip. If I say no I’ll look like a major bitch. “Who is it this ti—?” I stop myself.
She wipes her nose and tries to straighten her hair. I want to tell her that’s not going to work, she needs a brush, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Aiden Sims.”
And the heavens opened up and released the hottest male specimen to come to Jacksonville University. Well, that’s what he thinks anyway. Aiden is the playboy of our small university and he plays his Abercrombie-model good looks to his advantage. I grumble under my breath and pull my strap up my shoulder to keep it from falling.
“Have you had sex with him?”
A few of the hovering girls gasp. Oh, get over it. Bethany shakes her head. “No, we haven’t.”
“Great. That means you still have a chance to get him.”
“Wait,” a redheaded girl says from the corner of the room. “You’re telling me that if we’ve had sex with a guy, and he hasn’t committed, we’re screwed?”
I nod. “Pretty much. You’ve never heard why buy the cow when the milk is free?”
The redhead scoffs. “How do you know so much about this stuff, and who made you queen?”
Rawr. Someone hasn’t had their panties down lately. Heather raises her index finger and rolls her neck; that’s how I know she’s going to tell someone off. “She knows exactly what to do when it comes to getting guys. I’ve been with Todd for five months.”
Red shakes her head. “But why don’t you have a boyfriend then, Laney?”
A long, hard pain starts to build in the depth of my stomach. My eyes feel funny and my heartbeat is heavy in my chest. I will not think about him. No, I refuse. “No one has interested me yet.” Which is almost true, no one at this college has been worth my time. But that’s not the real reason. Red grabs her coffee and sways out of the room. Please, bring me back that coffee!
A tall brunette sitting in the corner clears her throat and leans over the worn lobby chair. “What else. I mean—any other advice?”
Everyone turns to look at me. I should totally charge for this. I shrug. “You can’t show that you’re too interested. No waiting for his text. He needs to be waiting for yours.” I take a sip of my cold coffee. “Don’t throw yourselves at him. Don’t take fifty million pictures on the second date. Make him work for it.”
Most of the girls nod slowly at me, waiting for more advice. I glance at the wall clock. I’m going to be so late.
“Laney,” Bethany asks, drawing my attention back to her. “Can you help me? I don’t know what move to make. Please.”
Can I help you, or will I help you? It’s not like my small job at the writing center takes up that much time. Hell, I have tons of free time. That’s exactly why I have a TBR list on my Kindle a mile long. I tug at my ponytail, then give Heather a defeated look. “Okay, I can help. You want to meet me tonight? We’ll go over our strategy.”
Bethany smiles. I think it’s the first one I’ve seen on her face since she moved in last semester. “Well, I have plans to go out tonight. Aiden is going to be there, if you want to meet up?”
Oh, no. I don’t like where this is going. I’m not a big partier. I’m twenty-two and couldn’t care less about getting wasted. I do it sometimes, but only for celebration or if I’m really bored. “Where are you guys meeting?”
Bethany stands up, adjusting her boobs in her shirt. No wonder guys flock to her, and no wonder they leave. She leaves nothing to the imagination. “The Loft down on King Street.” She places her hands on her slender hips. “You coming? I really want to start now.”
The black lines of mascara running down her face makes me sad. She is really desperate. Crying in the third-floor lounge isn’t the fix-it problem she was looking for and I can’t blame her. All the girls surrounding her right now would advise her to do the absolute wrong thing.
I huff. It’s just one night. “Okay, I’ll meet you there at nine.”
***
Since I was pulled into the lounge this morning, I am ten minutes late for class. Which is something I never am. I walk to my seat, conscious of the entire class watching me like I have a paper bag over my head and I’m waving a gun around.
“Ms. Scott, please tell me there is an excellent reason you’ve missed the first ten minutes of my class.” When college students tell you that college professors don’t call you out like in high school, they’re all a bunch of dirty liars. My professors live to embarrass people. I guess it’s all they have for fun in their old age. And Dr. Phillips is the worst. Definitely not the kind of professor I had in mind when I signed up for creative writing. I love to write short stories, but if I’m going to have to read them to the entire class, I don’t think I like writing them anymore.
“Big fire in my dorm room, everyone was running down the street in their underwear, screaming.” I plop my book bag down in my regular seat. A few of my classmates laugh under their breath.
Dr. Phillips gives me a tight-lipped grin. “Don’t be a smart-mouth, Laney. Sit down and open to page six eighty-six.”
I flip through my book until I land on one of Edgar Allen Poe’s poems. Great, now I have to listen to this depressing bullshit. I swear Dr. Phillips lives to bring his students down.
“Don’t worry, at least you missed the first ten minutes of the torture session,” Jacks says.
I laugh and turn around, handing him one of the Pop-Tarts that was shoved down into the depths of my bag. Jacks’ dorm room is right next to mine. He was the only reason I made it through the first week of school. Where he is nice-looking, tall, blond, and has big brown eyes, he doesn’t act like a hormone-crazed, fifteen-year-old boy. Maybe it has something to do with being older and a senior.
“Thanks, bud. I would go hungry without you.” He takes a large bite and half of the Pop-Tart is already gone.
I shrug, then turn around in my seat, whispering, “I hear I’m hard to live without.”
Jacks laughs and taps my shoulder. I glance back. He holds up a piece of paper with an Ogre-looking guy that, I assume, is Dr. Phillips. He has a huge mustache with Coke-bottle glasses. Not to mention a huge erection. Okay, maybe he doesn’t act that much older.
I can’t help it; I laugh. Loudly. I snort, and that makes Jacks laugh, too. Soon I see a shadow fall over my desk. I glance back, trying my damnedest to give the best innocent look I can conjure up. It doesn’t work.
Dr. Phillips is sneering down at us. He reaches out and snatches the paper from Jacks. “Hmph.” He tears the paper into pieces and crosses his arms. I’m sure he is contemplating some diabolic plan to make our lives hell. “I need to see you both after class.”
Fuck. Narrowing my eyes, I flip Jacks the bird over my shoulder. I hear him chuckle and feel a hard slap on my shoulder.
Class goes by just as slow as it always does, and I know I heard someone snoring in the back row. When everyone starts to get up, I debate hiding behind the tall guy that sits in the back and escaping unnoticed. It doesn’t work. Dr. Phillips’ beady eyes are watching Jacks and me closely.
“Don’t worry, Laney. I got this,” Jacks says, gripping my elbow and leading me toward Dr. Phillips’ desk.
We stand in front of the desk, staring down at him. I feel like I’m in second grade again, when I called a girl in my class a cry baby and got in trouble.
“Ms. Scott and Mr. Tate. I don’t appreciate your lack of respect for my class and myself. So, what to do with you both? I could overlook it…but I don’t think I will.”
Of course not.
Jacks pinches my side and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“I volunteer at the Cook Off down at the YMCA every year. It’s coming up. If you two show up and help, I’ll excuse this rudeness. Then we can go on with our lives.”
Cook Off? What. The. Fuck? Just because Dr. Phillips doesn’t have a life, doesn’t mean we don’t. “I—”
“We’ll be there. When is it?” Jacks asks.
I scrunch my nose and bite back a smartass remark.
“This Sunday at seven. Then the final round will be next Tuesday at six. I suggest you two show up and do your share. I don’t appreciate childish bullshit in my classroom.”
Sure, you don’t. Jacks gives Dr. Phillips a half-assed salute and pulls me closer to the door. “You asshole,” I say, shoving his shoulder.
Jacks raises his palms in mock surrender. “I’m sorry. He was going to make us miss a test or something. You know how they are. I can’t miss any more tests; I’m graduating next semester. And I refuse to stay here any fucking longer.”
I roll my eyes. “I hate you.”
Jacks wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close. “Like hell you do.
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