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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.
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.
Not only is she too young for me, she’s my partner’s daughter for Christ’s sake. If I know what’s good for me, I’ll stay far, far away. I’m a cop, with the law to uphold, but when I find her trying to stave off unwanted advances, I give her a safe word, insisting she text me with it if she ever finds herself in trouble. Only problem is, I had no idea what I was getting myself in to. Or maybe I did. Either way, years later when all grown up Layla texts me, and I discover she used the safe word to lure me into her bed, I know I’m in all kinds of trouble. I’m not violating any rules, but this is my best friend’s daughter, which means she’s hands off all the way, right? Then again, they don’t call me Officer Bad Boy 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$% is turning me on. I order her to the bathroom with plans to follow her in. If she knew what was good for her, she’d walk away and not give me a chance to corrupt the good girl. Then again, they don’t call me Fighter Bad Boy, because I’m…you know…good.
She's my best friend's kid sister, and I had long ago vowed to keep away. But when she asks me to help make her dream man jealous at her work's annual weekend getaway, I just about lose my Sh$%. 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.
I might be a sports medicine doctor but nothing could have prepared me for my best friend's kid sister. When she steps into my bedroom, dressed in a short, sexy robe, asking me to examine her…groin…I nearly bite off my tongue. This girl is hands off all the way. But dammit if little Kitty Kat hasn't grown into a gorgeous tigress. She drops her robe and exposes silky lingerie, tempting me in ways that Fu%& me over. I should put a stop to her games. I want to put a stop to them. Taking her to my bed is wrong, right? Then again, they don't call me Bad Boy Doctor, 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.
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.
“My go to author for sexy romance.” – Lauren Blakely, #1 NYT’S Bestselling author. I wasn’t looking for love. Falling for someone would dishonor the memory of my late husband. But wouldn’t you know it. Love found me anyway—in the form of a NHL player who was celebrating Christmas in Holiday Peak. Brody Tucker’s reputation preceded him. But he brought me back to life again—made me realize I was only going through the motions. Now one question remains. Can I move forward with him, find happiness again with a guy who seemed to know my deepest thoughts, my private secrets even though I had no idea how? I was ready to make the leap, take a chance on love, until I discovered the Sweet Talker was playing an off ice game I knew nothing about.
Professor: 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. Officer: Not only is she too young for me, she’s my partner’s daughter for Christ’s sake. If I know what’s good for me, I’ll stay far, far away. I’m a cop, with the law to uphold, but when I find her trying to stave off unwanted advances, I give her a safe word, insisting she text me with it if she ever finds herself in trouble. Only problem is, I had no idea what I was getting myself in to. Or maybe I did. Either way, years later when all grown up Layla texts me, and I discover she used the safe word to lure me into her bed, I know I’m in all kinds of trouble. I’m not violating any rules, but this is my best friend’s daughter, which means she’s hands off all the way, right? Then again, they don’t call me Officer Bad Boy because I’m…you know…good. Fighter: 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$% is turning me on. I order her to the bathroom with plans to follow her in. If I knew what was good for me, I’d walk away, combat my plans to corrupt the good girl. Then again, they don’t call me Fighter Bad Boy, because I’m…you know…good. SEAL: Bonus Book, I’m a Navy SEAL for Christ’s sake. A law-abiding citizen with steely determination, and a rigid control that never wavers—until she walks in. She ‘s looking for trouble. Of that I have no doubt. I should walk away, but damned if she doesn’t have that hot librarian look about her, and that sh$% is straight out of my fantasies. When I see the spark in her eyes as she visually feasts on me, I can’t help but want to ignite it, and create our own set of fireworks this Fourth of July. But taking her to the back room and bending her over the pool table is wrong, right? Then again, they don’t call me SEAL Bad Boy, because I’m…you know…good.