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A smart and hilarious memoir of privilege and excess told by the son of a powerful, seductive member of the New York elite. Ben Sonnenberg grew up in the great house on Gramercy Park in New York City that his father, the inventor of modern public relations and the owner of a fine collection of art, built to celebrate his rise from the poverty of the Jewish Lower East Side to a life of riches and power. His son could have what he wanted, except perhaps what he wanted most: to get away. Lost Property, a book of memoirs and confessions, is a tale of youthful riot and rebellion. Sonnenberg recounts his aesthetic, sexual, and political education, and a sometimes absurd flight into “anarchy and sabotage,” in which he reports to both the CIA and East German intelligence during the Cold War and, cultivating a dandy’s nonchalance, pursues a life of sexual adventure in 1960s London and New York. The cast of characters includes Orson Welles, Glenn Gould, and Sylvia Plath; among the subjects are marriage, children, infidelity, debt, divorce, literature, and multiple sclerosis. The end is surprisingly happy.
I’m the hard-ass president and CEO of a multimillion dollar company. I have rules and do things strictly by the book. Until sweet and innocent Holly crashes her car in a thunderstorm, and I take her to my cabin—my off limits sanctuary outside the city—for safety. She doesn’t know my true identity, doesn’t know my rules: sex is for pleasure, and relationships are out of the question. But when tension bubbles up between us, and nearly sets my cabin on fire, I’m suddenly conflicted. Breaking my rules are out of the question, especially after I find out who she really is. I need to end this. Now. Yeah, walking away is what I need to do. Then again, they don’t call me Bad Boy CEO, because I’m…you know…good.
Confessions of a Bad Boy Episode 1: Never CommitI'm the internet's favorite Bad Boy - the guy who'll tell it to you straight. No bullshit charm. No excuses. Consider it a public service, letting women know the truth about what guys are really thinking and teaching guys how to get what they want.Yes, we were checking that girl out.No, you don't want to meet her parents. And no, ladies, we don't care what shoes you wear - as long as they're up around our neck by the end of the night.Life was simple, until fate brought me back together with Jessie.My best friend's younger sister, who I just happened to have the hottest one night stand of my life with four years ago.Who calls me at 3 AM to get bailed out of jail.Who I can't keep my hands off of.And who can never find out who I really am.She's off-limits, but I don't care. And when I need a fake girlfriend to help me out of a jam at work, she's the only one who can help. Now I'm stuck sharing a hotel room with her for the weekend.A long, sexy weekend.This is your Bad Boy, signing off.
She’s way too innocent for me and I know it—and I should leave it that. If I knew what was good for me I would. But fu%$ it. I rarely go with what’s good for me, which is why I’m sitting on a goddamn bar stool when I should be back at Penn State, grading papers. I don’t normally stay for a drink after a gig—and I really need to give this shit up—but tonight, I don’t know, there’s just something about the birthday girl that’s throwing me off. I should leave. I’m a psych professor, for Christ’s sakes. Ever hear of code of conduct? Yeah, well I’m violating every rule I promised to uphold—which is why I can’t act on my urges, right? Then again, they don’t call me Professor Bad Boy because I’m…you know…good.
Sound familiar? 1. You spot a cute boy (we’ll call him Boy A). 2. You dream about Boy A. 3. You do whatever it takes to make Boy A notice you. 4. Even though Boy A doesn’t pursue you, you hang on to your dream of Boy A until he (a) moves to the North Pole with no access to a cell phone or computer, (b) dies and is buried or cremated, or (c) begins dating another girl. 5. You mend your broken heart by hating Boy A and finding another cute boy (Boy B). You replace Boy A with Boy B and begin all over again . . . Paula has gone through an entire alphabet—and more—of boys over the years. As she shares her journal entries and stories—the good, the bad, and the ugly—you’ll be encouraged to trust God with your love life and buckle up for the ride! Written for teen girls, Confessions of a Boy-Crazy Girl will help you on your own journey from neediness to freedom. Part of the True Woman publishing line, whose goal is to encourage women to exude God’s beauty by embracing his design for womanhood
Alone overnight at the store with the school bad boy. That's not what I planned on when I hid in the bathroom until well after closing. I thought I was by myself, which was why I started trying on clothes outside the dressing room. I wasn't expecting to be caught in my underwear by anyone. Least of all by the intimidating guy everyone warned me was dangerous. If that isn't bad enough, he is also my secret crush.
As the owner and CEO of Sugar Bites, a multi-million dollar Candy Company, I set the office rules, and always lead by example. Until sweet little Eden sits on my lap and tells me all her Christmas wishes. She had no idea I was behind the beard, and I had no idea that beneath her hideous Christmas sweaters, my newly appointed public relations manager was more naughty than nice. I should stay away. I want to stay away. The whole no fraternizing rule was put in place for a reason, but when she’s tasked with helping me try out a new body chocolate, things get a little…sticky. I know better than to break my own rules, then again, they don’t call me Santa Bad Boy because I’m…you know…good.
I have no idea why Raelynn Walker is pretending to be her famous recording artist sister. I know it's been five years since high school, but did she honestly think I wouldn't recognize the shy twin? The one who couldn't carry a tune if her life depended on it? The one I'd crushed on since…forever? Whatever her reason, when she runs into Sam's Pub with a hoard of her sister's fans hot on her heels, throws her arms around me and plants her luscious lips on mine…let's just say that the universe opened and gave me what I'd waited forever for. I should probably tell her I know who she is. Keeping my mouth shut and giving her a wild night in her sister's shoes is wrong, right? Then again, they don't call me Bad Boy Gamer, because I'm…you know…good.
She's my best friend's kid sister, and I had long ago vowed to keep away. But when she asks me to help make her dream man jealous at her work's annual weekend getaway, I just about lose my Sh$%. She might think she's the ugly duckling, and maybe I teased her too much when she wore pigtails. But Fu%$ I had to do something to hide my real feelings, because she's the hottest girl I know. If some douchebag is too stupid to see the swan, she shouldn't be with him. No, she should be with a guy like me, one who would worship her, bring her to life beneath my hands…my mouth. But I'm a player with a reputation, and she's off limits. Yeah, keeping my hands to myself is what I need to do. Then again, they don't call me Bad Boy Millionaire, because I'm…you know…good.
She’s a good girl from the right side of the tracks. I’m anything but. Which means I should keep my goddamn eyes and my hand to myself. But the thing is, I’m a fighter. My hands are my life, and sometimes they have a mind of their own—and most times they take without permission. When she agrees to a drink after my fight I take the mayor’s daughter to a nice restaurant. Only problem is she keeps licking her lips and that Sh$% is turning me on. I order her to the bathroom with plans to follow her in. If she knew what was good for her, she’d walk away and not give me a chance to corrupt the good girl. Then again, they don’t call me Fighter Bad Boy, because I’m…you know…good.