I received this book for free from the Author in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
Published by: Red Dress Press
on August 22, 2016
Genres: New Adult
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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?
I finally got to cut my teeth on a Meghan March romance, and OH MY, it did not disappoint! I’m not a huge fan of college romance, but with a name like Meghan March backing it up, I couldn’t turn away. BAD JUDGMENT was an enticing and delicious enemies-to-lovers romance that had me sweating bullets the whole way through. I enjoyed every minute of this sexy goodness! Justine and Ryker were perfect together. The sexy and flirtatious banter had my motor running from the very start!
“I want her addicted to me. It’s only fair, because I’ll never get enough of her.”
Ryker Grant is one HELL of a distraction that Justine Porter DOES NOT need. Fate and lack of tuition money gives her no choice in the matter. It’s either try her luck on the stripper pole, or try to get Ryker’s mind out of the gutter and in to some law books ASAP! After two years, Justine should know better than to think that Ryker will give up trying to ‘court’ her. She just gave him a reason to try even harder. The temptation is BOOMING! The chemistry is ELECTRIC! Sooner or later, Ryker will get the girl. The only question will be…for how long?
“I can’t lose you over this. I can’t lose you over anything. I won’t let it happen.”
Their bond grows deeper with every study session, and they end up discovering more about each other than ever before. Justine needs to remember why she is doing this. But when lines are crossed and feelings grown deeper, will it all be worth it?
OMG! Did I mention this book is SEXY as hell?! Told in dual POV, Meghan March gives us a heroine we can relate to and a hero we crave to DEVOUR!
“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.”
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.”
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?”