He’s so
arrogant.
She’s so self-righteous.
I can’t
stand him.
I want her.
He’s a
distraction I don’t need.
She’ll say yes eventually because
I’m not giving up.
Justine Porter is stuck between a rock
and a stripper pole. She lost her law school scholarship, which means
she has two choices to keep her life on track: strip for her tuition
or tutor the most distractingly sexy guy in her class—the one she’s
been turning down for two years straight. It should be an easy
choice, but tutoring Ryker Grant could derail her plans to graduate
with honors faster than two-for-one night at the Déjà Vu. Then
again, topless has never really been her color.
She could take the easy road, just this
once . . . but the deal has enough loopholes to trip anyone
up.
Who knew they taught bad judgment in
law school?
EXCERPT:
“I’ve got some things I need to say
to you, and you’re going to let me.”
Her brown eyes snap up to mine,
surprise clear in them. “Why should I?”
“Because you’re nothing if not
curious, and you want to know what I have to say.”
She steps backward, and I let my
fingertips trail across her skin before they drop away. Justine
adjusts the straps of her backpack on her shoulders and tucks
Chewbacca into a side pocket.
“You know you want to hear the rare
sound of me apologizing, don’t you?”
Justine purses her lips, and all I can
think about is the dreams I had all weekend of her staring down at me
from a stage while she danced and stripped. My own private show. I’m
not going to admit how many times I jacked off to the mental picture.
I need the real thing, and I won’t have another shot if she won’t
even give me a chance to talk to her.
I don’t know what changes her mind,
but she relaxes her posture and relents. “Fine. You’ve got five
minutes. This better be good.”
It’s not much, but I’ll take it. I
lead the way out of the classroom, slipping out the side door I used
to make my unobtrusive entrance. Or at least, it was unobtrusive
until I decided to share my strike-out history with the entire class
at Professor Turner’s invitation.
Glancing behind me, I’m marginally
surprised to see Justine actually following. I head for the
third-floor doors to the library, where the private rooms are. This
conversation isn’t for public consumption.
The first private room on the right is
empty, so I push the door open. Justine trails me inside, and I shrug
off my backpack and drop it on one of the four chairs.
She closes the door behind her and
leans against it, her arms crossed over her chest. I’m guessing she
wouldn’t stand that way if she realized how it draws attention to
her chest. I force my eyes back to her face. I’m not about to fuck
this up.
“Wow, you must really plan on
groveling if you need privacy,” she says, an eyebrow raised in
challenge.
“Maybe I just wanted to get you
alone.”
She rolls her eyes. “And I’m
already getting bored.”
“You love to bust my balls, don’t
you?”
“I don’t really like to think about
your balls, if you want to know the truth.”
I try on my charming smile, the one
that has dropped panties for years. “I’m calling bullshit on
that. You’ve thought about me at least once.”
She pushes off the door and turns
halfway to reach for the handle. “And if that’s all you wanted to
say, then I think we’re done here.”
“Wait.”
I’m shocked when she listens.
Justine rubs her hands over her face,
her every move revealing her frustration. “You ask me out for two
years, practically blackmail me into a kiss, then you blow me off
completely, and now you’re all up in my business again. What the
hell do you want from me?”
Her confusion punches me in the gut,
making me wish I could tell her why I wasn’t there the morning I
promised to help her move. It wasn’t for any reason she thinks.
I stride toward her, pressing one palm
against the door beside her head. “I’m not blowing you off, and I
haven’t stopped thinking about that night.”
“Then why—”
I can’t give her the explanation she
wants, so I try something different.
Lowering my head, I catch the next
words out of her mouth on my lips. They’re just as soft as I
remember, and I drop my other hand to her hip, drawing her against
me. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my T-shirt, almost
reluctantly, but she’s not pushing me away.
I take her mouth, my tongue diving
between her lips to taste her again—finally, but the pulsing of my
dick against the zipper of my jeans forces me to back off. If I
don’t, I’ll be laying her out on the table behind us, and that’s
not what this is about. At least, not all of what this is
about.
With her face flushed and her hair
messy from my fingers, Justine shutters her expression. She’s
rebuilding her walls brick by brick.
That’s not going to work for me.
“What’s it going to take, Justine?”
I remember asking her the same question at the bar.
Her dark eyes fill with confusion.
“What’s what going to take?” The words come out defensively.
“With you. To get a second chance. I
fucked up once, but doesn’t everyone deserve another shot?”
~ Marlene's Review ~
4.5 Stars!
Having enjoyed The Dirty Billionaire Trilogy, I was looking forward to reading more from this author. And how can you possibly resist that cover?
Justine
is a dedicated and focused college student determined to complete her
education and be able to help those in need of her legal skills. The
last thing she needs is a ridiculously HOT and extremely
persistent fellow student to distract her from her goals. She suddenly
finds herself desperate after hitting a huge financial speed bump and is
willing to do just about anything to pull through. Even if that means
spending time with the one man that can throw her off course.
Ryker
is a fellow law student that is questioning his career path. Receiving
help from the woman he has been lusting after for the last two years may
be exactly what he needs. Ryker is a dirty talking, persistent,
protective and absolutely Swoon Worthy character that I won’t soon forget!
This
story is very well written with hidden family secrets and emotional
angst, but the chemistry and connection these characters have shine
through and win out in the end.
Bad Judgment is a super sexy must read.
I highly recommend!
About The Author:
Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She's also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she's ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com.
