Just once, straight-laced teacher Bethany Wilkerson wants to make love with a man who’s not a dud in bed. When she finally meets the perfect man, he turns her down. Humiliated, she studiously avoids him for months…until she’s stranded at his house during an ice storm.
Ken Hawkins might have cleaned up on the outside, but on the inside he’s still a bad boy from the ghetto who will never be good enough for Bethany. Keeping his distance is a lot easier when she’s not parading through his house wearing nothing but his sweatshirt. No matter how hard he tries to reform, he’s not a saint.
The more Ken tries to convince her of his rotten core, the more Bethany believes in his innate goodness. But until she can convince him to believe in himself, he will continue to push her out of his life.
Excerpt from The Bad Boy’s Goodness (Book #4: The Bad Boys of Regret Hollow):
“I need you to fix something for me, but you have to promise not to freak out.” Bethany Wilkerson closed her eyes as she danced cheek to cheek with Ken Hawkins, their forced coupling as groomsman and bridesmaid at her best friend’s wedding having evolved until they’d become inseparable over the course of the evening.
“You can’t shock me, babe. I’ve seen it all.” He chuckled.
The corresponding, reassuring vibration strumming through her chest convinced her to throw the last of her misgivings aside and go for it. She wanted him to be the one. After tonight, he’d return to Chicago, and she’d still be living in her mother’s house in Regret Hollow in southeastern Wisconsin. She lifted her head so she could look him in the eye. “I’ve never had an orgasm.”
Deep-green eyes flaring, he choked out a strangled sound. “Never?”
“I can’t wait for you to be my first.” She hugged him tighter.
Within her embrace, he recoiled. “Are you a virgin?”
“No, of course not. I’ve had lovers.” A whole two of them. “But no orgasm.”
He didn’t need to know she’d never had one because she was boring in bed. Worse, she couldn’t even work up the nerve to attempt to pleasure herself. Before today, they’d been mere acquaintances, but from the moment he’d kissed her in the limo after the ceremony, she’d known that going to bed with Ken would be anything but boring.
“I need you to help me fix this. Tonight.” She kissed his chin then caressed up to his lips.
He turned his head and clamped his hands on her waist, holding her away from him. “Babe, that’s the wine talking. You don’t want me. I’m no good for you.”
So what if she was plastered? The alcohol had simply lowered her inhibitions enough for her to admit what she wanted. “I’m not drunk. I’ve only had three glasses of wine.”
“Which is—what? Two glasses more than usual?”
Three glasses more, to be honest. The one time she had tried to enjoy a bottle of wine in her bedroom, Mom had scolded and fretted so much Bethany had limited her consumption to ordering a glass when she went out with friends. No surprise that she couldn’t get worked up enough to touch herself in her mother’s house either. At thirty-two years old, she’d become a teetotaler spinster who’d never had an orgasm and lived in her childhood bedroom.
Allowing her life to continue along its pathetic trajectory was not an option, especially while she danced with the sexiest man who’d ever given her a second glance. Not only had he kissed her during the ride to the reception, he’d danced with her all night, far exceeding any obligation he had to stay by her side. “Tonight, I’m cutting loose—with you.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m not taking advantage of you while you’re drunk or going along with something you’ll regret in the morning.”
“Who regrets having an orgasm?”
About the author and where to find her:
Sara Daniel writes what she loves to read—irresistible romance, from sweet to steamy and everything in between. She grew up in a small town and was once a landlord of two uninvited squirrels. She has no regrets about turning her back on her accounting degree to write romance, but she deeply regrets her inability to keep track of her car keys. Find out more about Sara: Website | Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest