A standalone novel. Reagan Reynolds... Water polo god. Owner of a face that belongs under Wikipedia’s definition of drop dead gorgeous. Too charming for his own good. But most importantly––the worst driver on the planet. No, really, I’m pretty sure his blind nana taught him how to drive. I had no idea who he was until he almost ran me over. And frankly, I kind of wish I still didn’t because then I wouldn’t have a sprained ankle to show for it. And my leg wouldn’t resemble a boa constrictor that’s swallowed a feral pig. Yeah, it’s that bad. I’ve spent years saving every penny I’ve ever earned to be able to transfer to Malibu University. And now my entire future––including my scholarship––is in jeopardy. So I either accept the help he insists on giving me, or lose everything I’ve sacrificed for. In the meantime, I’m going to ignore the fact that we’re becoming friends. And I’m definitely going to pretend he’s not turning into the object of my…umm, dirty fantasies. That’s not happening. Not even a little. Because the minute I clapped eyes on him I knew he was nothing but trouble.

Dallas Van Zant…Water polo god.Shameless flirt.Beautiful disaster in the most literal sense of that label. Trust me, it’s not hyperbole. He’s in big trouble with the law. What does this have to do with me, you ask? Unfortunately, a lot.For some reason, which I still can’t quite wrap my brain around, I’ve been talked into driving him around as part of his plea deal. Problem is, he makes me nervous. I’m not good with people, men in particular, popular athletes especially. I’ve worked really hard to get my disability under control and one minute in his company and all my hard work flies out the window.To top it all off, I promised myself that I was going to make some serious changes this year. I’m tired of feeling awkward around boys. I’m tired of never having had a boyfriend. I’m tired of being lonely. But I’m also not the type to turn away a person in need. So I’ll do what I must to help him out. I’ll just pretend that I’m not enjoying his company. And I’ll ignore the fact that he’s sweet and funny. And I’ll tell myself every day that he’s out of my league.Because I’m as inexperienced as they come…and Dallas Van Zant is nothing but wild.

Brock Peterman… Saint. Closet erudite. Captain of the vaunted men’s waterpolo team. Virgin. Uh, yeah, you read it correctly, the big guy is a virgin. Ya know who is neither a saint or a virgin? Me, that’s who. Generally, I would be running in the opposite direction of a man with a list of attributes that look like this because he sounds like a helluva drag, doesn’t he? Well, he isn't. He’s sweet and smart and not in the least bit interested in me. Problem is, I’ve been nursing a tiny crush on him since he came to my rescue my freshman year. So, yeah, I’ve got it bad––and that’s not my only problem. Unfortunately for me, my sordid past has finally caught up with me and I either clean up my image or face more public shaming. If only a real life saint with a squeaky clean rep could help a girl out… I just need to remind myself not to fall in love with him in the meantime because I’m not his type. I’m everything that’s bad…and he’s nothing but good.