Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | (All The Right Moves #3) All the Right Moves |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Sara Ney |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
I’ll never be that girl. You know the one: that girl on campus, confident in her own skin. Always saying the right things, putting herself out there, knowing how to talk to a guy without stammering. Nope. I’m shy but clever and easily embarrassed, perfectly content being the wallflower in my circle of outgoing, beautiful friends. I would rather read about a sexy book boyfriend than actually have a live, breathing one. But then I meet Caleb Lockhart and he is worse. Star goaltender for the University’s hockey team, Caleb is quiet and broody, preferring the solitude of his orderly, regimented life. He doesn’t like, or need people—and plans to keep it that way. One more year left of hockey and he’ll be long gone. AWKWARD NEVER LOOKED SO GOOD. Both our lives change the day I fall for Caleb. Well, fall literally on top of him, to be accurate. Because I didn’t settle into love. I fell there. *Previously published as A Kiss Like This, Bestselling Author Sara Ney celebrates it’s 7th year in publication with a new title and new covers. | |
| Books in Series: | All The Right Moves Series by Sara Ney |
| Books by Author: | Sara Ney |
PROLOGUE
ABBY
It all started innocently enough on a Friday just like any other, classes and a coffee run, then straight to strategic planning for the evening ahead.
Now, normally, I’m not the first person to volunteer a night out, even on the weekends. The simple truth is, I would much rather stay home on a weekend, rent movies, read a book, and eat snacks on my couch.
One hundred percent of the time, hands down, no debate.
However, tonight is different. Tonight, my cousin, Tyler Darlington the Third—when I was younger, I used to call him Tyler Darlington the Turd—became an officer of his fraternity, and in his mind, that is something to celebrate.
I also want to point out that Tyler becoming an officer of anything is kind of a big deal—to both his parents and mine. Believe me when I say, the whole entire Darlington clan is in a tizzy over the fact that Tyler has been admitted to a Big 10 School. Not only that, but he’s managed not to flunk out of that same Big 10 School or cause any property damage to his fraternity house or burn it down
Naturally, these things alone are cause for celebration (that was sarcasm) and my parental units are practically forcing me to attend his celebratory frat party.
Okay. Maybe forcing is a strong word, although they did have to promise me a fifty-dollar pre-paid Visa credit card if I went.
To put it bluntly: Tyler is kind of a moron.
And by moron, I mean pothead.
So despite my usual penchant for staying in on the weekends like a hermit, there is definitely something to be said for the simple act of getting ready to go out with friends that is more fun than the actual act of going out.
For example:
Cramming more than one young (single) woman into one bathroom, then crowding around the only mirror in the apartment. Unless of course you count the cheap mirror hanging behind your bedroom door, which you do not.
Borrowing clothes that never seem to look as cute on you as they do on your friend or roommate. Damn her.
Getting sprayed/blinded by the hairspray because you were standing too closely behind your friend wielding the can—which we all know is a given. Someone always get sprayed in the eyes…
Smudging your eyeliner because you get elbowed by your friend every time you lean over the counter to draw a more precise line. We call this irony.
Sounds like funsies, right?
That’s because it is. For the most part.
There’s always tons of wild laughter, annoyed grumbling, and in the end, everyone looks stunning and ready to take on the town—or in this case, a house party.
Tonight is no exception.
It’s a short walk to the fraternity house from our crappy rental house, and even though the air is a tad too chilly for my liking, we chose to walk the short distance rather than drive, despite the heels most of us are wearing.
Having already decided that it’s going to be an early night, we spend the remainder of the evening huddled together in the corner of my cousin’s fraternity house, not because we’re wallflowers, or party poopers, or stuck up. No. We’re huddled together because the house is dirty, and falling apart, and the crowd it draws isn’t exactly “my scene.”
My scene is the library. A quaint coffee shop with an acoustic guitar player, smelling of rich coffee grounds. The campus study center with its overstuffed couches. My small but tidy bedroom in my off-campus rental.
This crowd… this crowd is collegians on academic probation. Drunks. Potheads. Girls with loose morals and even looser panties.
I brazen out the party with my friends, in the corner I’ve forced us to occupy, where we laugh, my friends drink, and we lose track of time.
Before I know it, my friends have disappeared and my cousin is at my side, half-baked (as usual) but in protection mode. Tyler actually convinces me to be responsible and not to walk home alone in the dark, even though the last place I want to be is here. In this fraternity house. Alone without my friends.