Roan King. The uncrowned king of Barnett University. He's like a freaking celebrity around here. It's totally ridiculous. People, by which I mean grown women, actually stalk him on the internet. And around campus. Apparently he's god's gift to both football and the ladies (I'm using that term loosely). All he has to do is smile and girls just fall right onto their backs before spreading their legs nice and wide. I've heard that he's already plowed his way through half the female population here at Barnett. I'm sure he'll work his way through the second half before he gets drafted to the NFL later this year. Yeah... I don't plan to be one of them. The guy is nothing more than a conceited player. You know the type—a steroid infused meathead jock coasting through college on his football prowess. Ugh. I have three words for you—avoid, avoid, avoid. Need I say more? I don't think so. I've had the sad misfortune of running into him on campus. Literally. As in—I literally slammed into him before spilling my iced coffee drink all over that wide rippling chest of his (did I just say that?). What I learned from the experience is that Roan King is one hell of a cocky son of a—I also learned that he has the most spectacular chest... And don't even get me started on those abs... I could probably cut diamonds on them. Unfortunately for me, Operation Avoid-Roan-King isn't going so well. Everywhere I go, there he is. If he wasn't so ridiculously hot, he would be a hell of a lot easier to forget. With his dark hair, shocking turquoise colored eyes and (damn him) buff body, he's easily the most gorgeous guy I've ever laid eyes on. Crap... see what I mean? Why do I suddenly have the bad feeling that Roan King is going to lead to my utter ruin and downfall? This is a mature New Adult novel with strong language and sexual situations intended for readers over the age of 18.

I've spent years fighting my feelings for her, but I can't do it any longer. Sam Harper, left tackle for the Barnett Bulldogs, has been my best friend since we were fourteen years old. Unfortunately, he sees himself as my unofficial big brother, which means the guy is a major cock block. He must have a sixth sense when it comes to me getting laid. It's frustrating how I can be on the verge of sealing the deal when Sam will appear out of nowhere, and suddenly my night is going up in a big ball of sexually frustrated flames. I think the guy enjoys messing with me. Why else would he take such perverse pleasure in doing it? Exactly. I'm thinking that Sam needs a girlfriend. Maybe then he'd stop trying to get in my way all the time. Except...I'm starting to notice things about Sam that I definitely shouldn’t be noticing. Like his piercing blue eyes that pin me in place. Or his short blond hair that I want to drag my fingers through. Not to mention those killer abs I sometimes catch a glimpse of when he stretches in class. The strange feelings that have sprung up in me are definitely starting to freak me out. I mean, we’ve always been friends and I don’t want that to change. What I need is for our relationship to slide back to the way it's always been. We have eight solid years of friendship behind us. That's not something I'm willing to throw away on a bit of sexual attraction that will eventually fizzle out. No matter how tempted I might be.

From USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Sucevic comes the third stand alone novel in the Barnett Bulldogs series- One Night Stand. Liam- The moment she stepped foot through the door, she was on my radar. I mean, come on, how could she not be? The woman is absolutely gorgeous. Thick inky black hair and a sweetly curved body. Although I have to admit, this hole-in-the-wall dive bar doesn't exactly seem like her scene. For one, she's wearing too much in the way of clothing. There's not a short, barely there skirt or cleavage bearing top in sight. Two, she's shooting down every single guy that sniffs around her table like it's her sole mission in life. Casualties are scattered across the nasty beer stained floor as we speak. And three, my guess is that she's a little older than the usual college aged crowd that hangs here looking for a hook up to stumble home with at the end of the night. So, after a careful assessment of the situation, my current plan of action is to keep my sights firmly locked on the target as I bide my sweet damn time nursing a beer. Luckily, it doesn't take long for some drunken idiot to give me the perfect opportunity to step in and run interference. Here's my prediction as to how the rest of the evening is going to play out- by the end of it, her delicious looking a$$ will be warming my bed. I'd stake my upcoming football career on it. Gia- It takes a moment or two before I'm able to pry my eyelids open. I really shouldn't have slept in my contacts. That was a bad move on my part because now my eyes feel as if they've been cemented shut. Glancing around, I'm startled to realize that absolutely nothing looks familiar. Which is odd. Just as panic starts to spike through my veins, a torrent of memories crashes down upon my head. Sexy fauxhawk. Amazingly hard rippling muscles. Gorgeous swirling patterns of colorful ink covering both his arms and broad chest. And a very dirty mouth. Slowly turning my head, the breath catches at the back of my throat as I realize that the man in question is still sacked out rather soundly besides me. In fact, he's snoring ever so lightly. Guess I tuckered the poor guy out last night. A smile tugs up the corners of my lips. Unfortunately this is no time for gloating. By tacit agreement, it was decided that there wouldn't be any names or numbers exchanged. Absolutely nothing that would tie us to one another. Just one night of amazing, steamy, toe curling pleasure. And that, my friends, was definitely achieved. Several times, actually. See? Now I'm grinning (and gloating) like a complete lunatic when I should be hustling my a$$ out of here. The last thing I want is to taint all those lovely memories with awkward morning after banter. Slipping from beneath the covers, I roll in slo-mo from the bed before carefully dropping down onto all fours and army crawling my way towards freedom. Did I happen to mention that I'm still naked? I really shouldn't have let him rip the clothes right off my body while standing at the front door of his apartment. What the heck am I saying? Of course I should have, because it was soooo worth it. Even if I am currently doing a naked crawl of shame. Throwing one last fleeting glance over my shoulder, I creep right on out of the bedroom. If there's just a tiny little pinch of regret that I'll never see this guy again, I tamp it down before gathering up all my stuff and fleeing the apartment. Bye-bye hot tattoo guy. May our paths never cross again. \This is a mature New Adult novel with strong language and sexual situations intended for readers over the age of 18\

Know what happens when you don’t bother dating all through college because you’re too busy trying to stay on top of your classes? I’ll give you a little hint… It starts with the letter V and ends with irginity. Ding, ding, ding… nailed it. Well… at least something got nailed because it wasn’t me. Just to be clear, it’s not like I’ve been holding out all these years, waiting around for Mr. Perfect to ride in and sweep me off my feet. And I certainly didn't take a sacred vow of chastity. It just kind of happened…or didn’t happen, as the case may be. Know what’s even worse than that? Having the bad boy of the NFL, who also happens to be one of my brother’s teammates, offer to take care of that pesky problem for me. Which is laughable because if there’s one person I can barely tolerate- it’s JT Higgins. He may be amazing on the field but he’s even more notorious for his bar brawls, drunken antics, and the women who flock to him in droves. It goes without saying that he’s keeping some clinic in business with swab tests and penicillin. I’ve had three long years of practice shutting down his every advance. So ignoring him should be a piece of cake, right? Wrong. JT was given an ultimatum at the end of last season- clean up his act or get traded. For some odd reason, my brother has decided to take him under his wing. So now the golden-haired, green-eyed mountain of muscle is around all the time. Sitting across from me during Thursday night family dinners. Knocking on the door and pushing his way inside when I’m babysitting my niece and nephews. Showing up at the shop where I get coffee on my way to school. If all that weren’t bad enough, he has this annoying habit of watching me. What I’d like to know is when his gaze started to feel like a physical caress? It’s enough to make me scream. It’s also enough to send my pulse skittering and my resolve to the brink of shattering. Because this new and improved JT…the one who doesn’t whore around or drink, well- he’s more difficult to resist. Especially when all that sexy attention is focused solely on me.