Bad Ideas Novels & Stories

“A good number but that’s not the case. You should see Neil…” “Stop comparing yourself to people.” She snapped, “You’re you, you’re the best of you. Value the people who like you for who you really are. Those girls flocking around Neil and Brandon are only after their money, their looks, their game and what they get on the bed; they don’t actually like them for them. One day, Neil and Brandon would get tired when they realize they have a lot of fakes in their lives, they would start to look for what you have; real friends, a stable life, true love. What they have currently won’t last, can’t you see that? Colton Adams, you are…” She stopped when he began crying. She hugged him. She was sure p

The only times we called were to ask about things in the room or if any one of us were around to pick up something for the other. "Do you think he's romantic?" Andrea asked. I groaned. "I don't know. I don't know that guy like that and I've told you he's bad news. Like the bad boy type of bad news. He doesn't care about people's feelings, Andrea." She shrugged. "You've told me before but a bad boy is my type. They are good in bed, hot, sexy, protective, possessive, and love hard when they fall for someone for the first time."

"You have abandonment issues and trust problems. I have a history of making catastrophically bad decisions and letting pride override common sense." "When you put it that way, we sound like terrible candidates for a functional relationship," she observed dryly.

"Or would you rather we both ditch everyone and stay in here?" Girls throw themselves at me at every given moment, it was surprising that even though I did like to have a good time with them, I was not the playboy that everyone thought I was. I mean, I am a very bad boy who has done some very bad things…, trust me when I say that I have done some very very bad thing. But I don't just go around fucking everyone because I can. There's class in limited access and I liked to keep it that way but gossips like the Coral Writer, a popular anonymous blogger had painted me black already.

Alicia asked her, removing her gaze from the sky to her sister only for a brief seconds. "I think we are the most unlucky set of women. I think we trust too much. I think we fall inlove do quickly. I think we are goddamn stupid." Anna breathed out. "I can't agree with you less. You are right. We are the most foolish set if people, for falling so quickly with the worst men. I am a very big fool for signing those contracts without reading it. You are a fool, for ever believing that your husband could ever change in a twinkle of an eye."

Chapter 7 I like to think of myself as a very rational woman. Fuck! Who am I kidding? I'm the kind of person therapists makes millions from. In less than twenty-four hours, I had made a string of bad decisions that were more than enough to qualify me for my own reality show. And now, I was standing right in the middle, the consequences staring at me in the form of two really hot men. At least I've got good taste in men. Jesus, Daisy. Focus!

“Well then, this celebrity likes you.” The fun atmosphere subsided again. Mea’s greatly confused at the situation developing too fast. She has to revisit all the facts logically or she’ll end up overthinking. One thing you can’t do to a Mea Cristy del Bien is lead her mind to overthink. That might be a lie, but she likes convincing herself that way.

Arga and May were suddenly dumbfounded, and Shawn... gasped. Shawn tried to control the emotions that made him unmoved for a long time before he finally spoke again. This time, his voice sounded softer even though his face still looked tense. "It was an accident. No one wanted that, but if it was bad fate..." "We could minimize traffic accidents by driving straight in our lane instead of stealing other people's lanes recklessly which causes those who drive their vehicle according to the rules to get the sap and... die on the spot."

Alana stared at her best friend in shock, “So you think it's a bad idea? You think we're making a mistake,” “Are you nuts?” Emily asked. Her blue eyes went wide as saucers and her short, spiky, dark blond hair actually looked spikier somehow, as if it were actually standing on end more than usual. “I think it's a fantastic idea. I was only pointing out that it was not my idea. Besides, you guys look like you're headed in the right direction,” Alana sighed deeply, then shrugged. “He…I honestly don't know, Emily.”

Dr. Sienna Blake hated Tuesday night shifts. Not because they were busy—they weren’t. That was the problem. Nothing but quiet corridors, half-lit trauma bays, and the soft, unsettling hum of fluorescent lights overhead. It left her alone with her thoughts, which were often worse than the blood and broken bones.