Victoria Dahl - Bad Boys Do

Praise for novels from USA TODAY bestselling author

VICTORIA

DAHL

‘A hot and funny story about a woman many of us can relate to’

—Salon.com on Crazy for Love

‘[A] hands-down winner, a sensual story filled with memorable characters’

—Booklist on Start Me Up

‘Dahl has spun a scorching tale about what can happen in the blink of an eye and what we can do to change our lives.’

—RT Book Reviews , 4 stars, on Start Me Up

‘ Lead Me On will have you begging for a re-read even as the story ends.’ —Romance Junkies

‘Dahl smartly wraps up a winning tale full of endearing oddballs, light mystery and plenty of innuendo and passion.’

—Publishers Weekly on Talk Me Down

‘Sassy and smokingly sexy, Talk Me Down is one delicious joyride of a book.’ —New York Times bestselling author Connie Brockway

‘Sparkling, special and oh so sexy—Victoria Dahl is a special treat!’

—New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips on Talk Me Down

Also available from

Victoria Dahl

GOOD GIRLS DON’T

CRAZY FOR LOVE

LEAD ME ON

START ME UP

TALK ME DOWN

And watch for

REAL MEN WILL

coming soon!

www.mirabooks.co.uk

This story is for my wonderful agent, Amy.

Thank you for always being there.

Thank you to Jennifer Echols for her insight into the world of universities and grad students. Having only been an undergraduate, I needed the peek behind the curtain! Thanks to Amy for trying her best to keep me sane this time around. I’m sorry the duty fell to you this year. And huge thanks to Tara for her amazing support.

As usual, Twitter folk, you are the best virtual water cooler a girl could ask for. You did a great job of distracting me from stress, not to mention work. But for once you actually helped me concentrate, so a big shout-out to all my #1k1hr writing friends! Also, thanks to Jared for starting the kilt talk.

My husband truly helped me get through to the end of this story, and I couldn’t have done it without him. And boys, I promise a great vacation to make up for all the days I spent locked in my bedroom with coffee and a laptop.

Last but definitely not least, a thank you to my readers. Without you, I would not write.

You make all my books possible.

THIS WASN’T A BOOK CLUB; it was a manhunt.

Olivia couldn’t believe she’d fallen for it. Actually … she couldn’t believe she’d thrown herself headfirst into it. She’d read the assigned book. Twice. She’d downloaded important discussion points. Made detailed notes. Marked up the pages. And finally, before walking into the brewery, she’d sat in her car for ten minutes, pumping herself up for this first foray into a girls-only gathering.

They’re just women like me , she’d assured herself. No need to be intimidated. You’ll fit right in because you’ll all have the book in common .

Now here she was, sitting in the barroom of Donovan Brothers Brewery, listening to seven women discuss their current dating lives and sexual adventures. And Olivia, having no dating life or adventurous sex to contribute, sat there like a bump on a log, the book club selection clutched tight in her tense fingers.

It wasn’t that she’d never had girlfriends. She’d had a best friend in high school. And one in college. And then … then she’d had her husband. Her ex was as close as she’d gotten to a best friend in the past ten years, and he’d failed pretty spectacularly at that.

She needed girlfriends, and she needed them fast. When Gwen Abbey had invited her to join her book club, Olivia had felt honored and relieved.

She should’ve known better. Gwen wasn’t exactly the type to opine about literature. Oh, she was smart enough, but her attention flitted about like a hummingbird after a shot of espresso. She might read a book, but Olivia couldn’t imagine her spending two hours talking about it afterward.

“I’m so glad you came!” Gwen whispered, putting an arm around Olivia’s shoulders for a quick squeeze. “Isn’t this fun?”

“Yes!” Olivia answered, feeling her fingers go numb against the slick cover of the book. She really, really wished she hadn’t posted so many sticky notes in the pages. They fluttered like tiny blue banners under the breeze of the ceiling fan.

“Can you even believe how adorable he is?”

Olivia glanced automatically toward the bar, where a very young, very handsome man filled glasses at the tap. He was Jamie Donovan, she’d been informed, and his welcoming wave had set the whole table tittering a few moments ago. The tittering had been followed by promises—or threats—of what the women would do if they got Jamie Donovan alone for an hour. “Find out exactly what’s under that kilt,” had been a common refrain.

“So,” Olivia ventured, leaning closer to Gwen, “is he the reason you guys meet at this place?”

“Heck, yeah. No reason not to have a nice view while we hang out. Plus, Marie, Alyx and Carrie are all married, so this is a nice safe way for them to get a little flirtation in. They get to drool over Jamie, fantasize a little, and then their husbands benefit when they get home. Everyone is happy!”

“Great!” Olivia responded with fake enthusiasm.

But even she was tired of fake enthusiasm. Why couldn’t she just be enthusiastic? Granted, it wasn’t what she’d expected, and Olivia liked to know what she was getting into. She made plans. And lists. She believed that in life, you measured twice and cut once. But all the measuring in the world hadn’t managed to make a good marriage. She needed to loosen up.

And in all honesty, she felt better knowing that some of the women were married. If it was just about having fun and not about picking up a man, she could get into it. Or she could try.

“Here he comes,” Gwen whispered. “And it looks like we’re in luck….”

“Jamie!” one of the women called. “You wore the kilt for us!”

The cute bartender with the messy dark gold hair winked at them. At all of them. “First Wednesday of the month. You ladies didn’t think I’d forget book club, did you?”

If giggles could be raucous, these certainly were. As subtly as she could, Olivia tipped her head to the side to see past the other women. She finally caught a glimpse of the infamous kilt, and she couldn’t deny that it looked good on him. Between the bottom edge of the dark kilt and the top of his work boots, a lovely expanse of tanned leg was revealed, dusted with the faint glint of golden hair. The kilt wasn’t plaid. It looked like it was made from black canvas. His wide chest was covered by a faded brown T-shirt with a faintly visible Donovan Brothers logo stretched across it.

The man was gorgeous. Olivia couldn’t deny that.

He continued past their large table to deliver beer to a group farther on. There was no hooting from that side of the room. The men there were focused on the baseball game on the wide-screen TV. They didn’t even glance at Jamie Donovan’s bare legs. The women of the book club table, on the other hand, craned their necks shamelessly. Olivia sank down a little in her chair.

“How long have you been meeting here?” she asked Gwen.

“About a year. Before that we used to meet at Starbucks. Frankly, the club was about to die. Nobody had the free time to read and then get together for meetings. But now we have one hundred percent attendance.”