Synopsis:
A good girl goes fabulously bad in the final book in New York Times bestselling author Sophie Jordan’s sexy New Adult romance series, in which three Ivy League suite-mates seek higher knowledge of just how far they can go.
Months after her boyfriend dumped her, Georgia can still hear the insults he hurled at her. Boring. Predictable. Tame. Tired of feeling bad, she’s ready to change her image, and go a little wild. What better way to prove her ex wrong than a hot night of sexual adventure at the secret campus kink club?
In the shadowy den of the kink club, she unexpectedly runs into Logan Mulvaney, her friend’s little brother. A player extraordinaire too hot for his own good, he may be younger, but the guy is light years ahead when it comes to sexual experience. Now he’s telling her to go home—“good girls” don’t belong here!
Georgia is tired of having others define her. She’s going to teach Logan a lesson he won’t forget—one white hot, mind-wrecking kiss . . . that leads to another . . . and another . . . and. . . . Realizing she’s way in over her head, Georgia runs.
Only Logan won’t let her go. Everywhere she goes he’s there, making her want every inch of him. Making her forget who she is. Who he is. And just how wrong they are for each other.
Excerpt:
Excerpt:
Chapter
One
“I’m
sorry, Georgia, it’s just, just …”
I
waited, staring at his handsome face and too white teeth, feeling an
overwhelming sense of déjà
vu.
I chafed my suddenly sweating palms against my jeans and told myself
it wasn’t possible.
This
was how the conversation started when Harris broke up with me months
ago. The only difference in this scenario was that this guy wasn’t
Harris. Not even close. Joshua wasn’t my boyfriend. We’d been on
four dates. Four.
So why was he looking at me with that familiar pitying expression?
And speaking in that condescending tone? And using those
words?
This
couldn’t be happening. Not again.
I
shifted on the plush leather seat of his car and played with my pearl
necklace, wishing suddenly I was anywhere but here. Since our first
date, I knew there weren’t any sparks, but I agreed to a second
date and a third because he was the kind of guy I wanted. On paper
anyway. A senior at Dartford, he was already accepted into optometry
school. He came from a good family. His father was a church deacon.
Joshua volunteered at the local food bank. I couldn’t have found a
better guy. I convinced myself that chemistry wasn’t everything.
Lasting relationships weren’t built on chemistry. Common interests.
Like goals. Similar backgrounds. That’s what counted.
My
phone rang inside my purse. I quickly peeked inside. Mom. Pushing it
to silent and returned to the hot awkwardness of the moment. I’d
call her back later. After whatever this was wrapped up. I refused to
think of it as a break-up. I wasn’t invested enough.
I
wasn’t being dumped again.
Joshua
leaned in closer, sliding his arm along the back of my seat. Like he
had to get closer to impart whatever he was about to say. A cloud of
expensive-smelling cologne engulfed me, stinging my nostrils.
“I’m
sorry, Georgia,” he uttered, making a tsking sound with his tongue.
“You’ve got marriage written all over your face.”
My
cheeks went hot.
He
continued, “I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment yet.”
I
pulled back until the back of my head bumped the cold glass of the
passenger window. Suddenly the pasta primavera I’d had for dinner
felt like acid in my stomach. I turned my gaze to stare out the
windshield at the lawn of dead grass bordering my dorm. The last of
the snow had melted a few weeks ago, and the grass hadn’t quite
recovered yet.
I
took a long, pained blink and focused on his face again. “Okay,”
I began, clearing my throat. “Let’s forget the fact that we’re
not even officially a ‘thing’, but … are you breaking up with
me?”
He
nodded sagely. “Yeah. I am.”
“Is
this because I haven’t slept with you?” God knew he’d been
trying since the first date. After dinner tonight, he’d invited me
back to his apartment. I’d declined. Had he known he was “dumping”
me then? If I had slept with him would he still be “breaking” up
with me? Jerk.
His
face flushed, his tanned skin turning ruddy. “You have a high
opinion of yourself.”
“No
more than you do.” I snorted. “I mean you think I want to marry
you after four dates.” I shook my head. “Ego, much?”
“Look.
You told me yourself that you were with your last boyfriend since
high school and you thought you were going to marry the guy.” He
shook his head and gave me that pitying look again. “I’m not up
for being his replacement.”
I
fumbled for the door handle. “I’m not looking for a replacement.”
“You
should lighten up, Georgia.” He gave my shoulder an obnoxious
squeeze. I looked back at him. “C’mon. You’re a pretty girl.
Stop being so serious and have some fun.”
I
flung open the door and swung my legs out onto the curb.
He
grabbed my wrist, stalling me. “Don’t you ever just want to get
laid? Try it out with a guy you haven’t been with forever?”
Heat
swamped my face. Yeah. I’d thought about it. I thought about it a
lot since Harris dumped me. Especially since both my roommates were
having marathon sex with their hot and fabulous boyfriends.
Unfortunately Joshua’s sloppy kisses and pasty palms hadn’t
exactly turned me on. I just kept agreeing to go out with him when he
asked, telling myself I was being too picky. Too superficial. That
sex was overrated. And now I was angry with myself for not trusting
my instincts.
Leaning
across the console, I toyed with the corner of his crisp collar. His
eyes went fuzzy.
“What
about it, Georgia?” His voice got all husky. “Want to knock the
cobwebs off it?”
Charming.
“Yeah,”
I breathed against his lips. “I think about sex … hot sex … a
lot. I think about doing it with a guy until my eyes roll back in my
head and I forget my name.”
He
groaned and tried to close the tiny bit of space between our lips,
but I pulled back, releasing his collar. “So I better go find that
guy, huh?”
Feeling
somewhat mollified by the stunned look on his face, I pushed out of
the car and slammed the door. Without looking back, I marched up the
sidewalk to my dorm and punched in the numbers on the keypad,
muttering to myself the entire time, vowing that I was done.
Finished. No more dates. No more falling for guys who looked good on
paper. They all said the right things at first but after a few dates
– poof.
The prince turned into a frog.
I
stopped in front of the elevator and punched the button for the
fourth floor. I tapped my boot heel impatiently, eager to get in my
room and in a pair of comfy yoga pants. I had the room to myself
tonight. Both Pepper and Emerson were with their boyfriends and
probably would be all weekend. Sadness filled pinched me at the
thought. Then I instantly felt guilty. If two girls ever deserved
happiness, they did.
Ironically,
a few months ago I was the one with the boyfriend and they were
single. I didn’t begrudge them their happiness, but … I was
lonely. No Harris. My best friends busy with their own lives. I could
only study so much. My grades were better than ever. I’d already
finished my Econ project and it wasn’t even due until the end of
the semester.
As I
waited in front of the elevator, the building’s outside door beeped
open and then clanged shut. Annie strolled in wearing a loose,
low-cut blouse and tight crop pants.
“Hey,
G.” She stopped beside me, slurping from a ridiculously large iced
coffee piled high with whipped topping. She eyed me up and down,
taking in my outfit. I was dressed to go out in jeans, boots and a
light cashmere sweater. “You already go out?”
“Yeah.
I had a date.”
“Must
not have been a very good date. It’s not even nine and you’re
headed home.”
I
shrugged. Annie wasn’t my favorite person. She hung out with us a
little at the beginning of the year. Until we all figured out she was
one of those girls that would tell you to wear an unflattering
sweater just so she could look better standing next to you.
“It’s
still early. You should come out with me,” she suggested. My mind
shot back to when Annie abandoned Em at a biker bar. She wasn’t the
kind of girl to have your back when you went out.
The
elevator doors slid open and we stepped inside. “Thanks, but I’ve
got work to do.”
“On
a Friday? Lame.”
“What
are you up to?” I went for changing the subject back to Annie –
always one of her favorite topics.
“Oh,
you know … going to a certain club.” She lowered her voice to a
whisper as she toyed with her straw, even though it was just the two
of us in the elevator. “It’s going to be funnnn tonight. There
are supposed to be some interesting games.”
“You
mean your kink club?”
“It’s
not my
kink club. No one owns it.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a place
to go if you want to really live and experience whatever you want,
whatever you feel like without judgment. A safe place to let go and
lose control.”
A
safe place to lose control?
For some reason, an image of my mother frowning and shaking her head
rose up in my mind. “There’s no such place,” I said.
Life
was judgment. We live. We make choices. If we weren’t judging
ourselves, then others were. That’s just the way the world worked.
Self-control was everything. It’s what kept us civilized.
Annie
chuckled. The elevator slid open and we stepped out. “God, you are
repressed. You have my number. Text me if you want to join.”
I
watched her for a moment as she turned and headed down the corridor
the opposite direction from my suite. Somewhere on our floor someone
was playing the latest Bruno Mars at full blast.
I
entered my room and closed my door. Bruno fell to a low muffle.
Emerson’s side was a mess, littered with clothes. She might have
fallen in love and take life a little more seriously now, but her
indecision regarding what to wear and her inability to hang clothes
back up had not changed.
I
flipped on the television and changed clothes, hanging up my sweater
and folding my jeans neatly. After tucking my boots into the corner
of the closet, I reached for my phone to call Mom back. She hated it
when I didn’t call back on the same day.
Sitting
cross-legged on the bed, I watched a cop chase a bad guy across the
screen as the phone rang in my ear. On the final ring, Mom picked up.
“Georgia, hi!” Her voice was full of energy. Reminiscent of how
she sounded on the intercom all those mornings in high school.
Attending
the school where your mom worked as a principal had been less than
fun. Thankfully, she adored Harris – everyone in my hometown did –
or I never would have been asked out on a date. Not too many guys
want to date the principal’s kid. Harris had been confidant enough
to not let it intimidate him. I’d loved him for that. Of course,
his father was a city councilman … and happened to be the current
mayor. My mother loved him for that.
“How
are you? How’s school?”
“Good,
I’m—“
“Did
you change your password? I was trying to get online and look at your
current GPA.”
“No,
Mom, I haven’t.”
I
might be twenty years old, but my parents were footing the bill for
school and still expected full access to my life – that included
online viewing of my grades at any time during the semester.
“Hm.
Maybe I hit the caps button. I’ll try again later.” She took a
breath and slid into the next topic. “Have you thought more about
your summer plans? I’ve been talking with Greg Berenger and he can
get you on here at the bank. It would be a great way to get your foot
in the door for when you graduate.”
And
there it was. The expectation that I’d come home. Eventually. I’d
finish college and start my career back in the bustling metropolitan
of Muskogee, Alabama.
“Um.
I’m not sure yet. Still looking into a few things…”
“Georgia
Parker Robinson.” She must have heard something in my voice because
hers just got all principal-mode on me. Not to mention she was
whipping out my full name. “This is your future. You need to take
this seriously and not wait until the last minute.”
“Of
course, Mom. I know.”
A
pause fell. “Is this because of Harris? He won’t be here this
summer, you know. His mother said he took an internship in Boston.”
“You
spoke with his mother?” I couldn’t help it. My voice escaped in a
squeak.
“I
saw her at the store. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her?”
“Sorry,”
I mumbled.
“We
both agree that this is just a phase he’s going through… this
other girl is just a fling—“
“Mother!
You discussed us … her?”
Her
is a girl I’ve never even met, but someone Harris started fooling
around with a few weeks before he dumped me. It was such a cliché.
But then wasn’t there truth in clichés? That’s why they existed.
“Don’t
get upset. You and Harris will work this out—“
“I
don’t want to work it out with him, Mom. He cheated on me. He
broke up with me.”
“You’re
both so young. You don’t understand yet. This will only make your
relationship stronger down the road.”
“Mom,
this might be hard to believe, but I don’t want to be with Harris
anymore.”
“Oh,
this is so unlike you, Georgia. You’re not they type to hang onto
pointless anger.”
“What
do you mean? Why is this so unlike me?” What was I like then? The
kind of girl that would let a guy stomp all over her heart and then
ask for seconds?
“You’ve
never disappointed me before.”
And
not marrying Harris would disappoint her? Was that her implication?
She
continued,
“You
always make the right decisions. We raised you to be reliable.”
Boring.
Harris’s word drifted through my mind just then. He’d called me
boring when he broke up with me. Oh, there had been other words.
Other accusations laid at my feet, but that one stuck in my head the
most.
I
sighed and rubbed at my suddenly aching forehead, like that
accusation was in still lodge in there, an annoying pebble I couldn’t
shake lose. “I’ll let you know about the job.”
“Please
do. The position won’t be available forever. Mr. Berenger will hold
it as long as he can as a favor to me. I could have expelled his son
that time when he stole the test from Mrs. Morris’s desk and sold
the answers to everyone, remember? I only gave him on campus
suspension.”
“Okay,
Mom. Tell Dad and Amber hello for me.”
“Good
night, honey.”
“Night,
Mom.”
Ending
the call, I fell back on my bed. Law
and Order
was starting over again, the familiar theme music racing over the
air.
Restlessness
hummed through me … and a low undercurrent of anger. Mom. Harris.
Joshua. Their voices overlapped through my head, making my stomach
churn. All three of them thought they knew me so well. Boring.
Reliable. Serious.
All
words to describe me. All words I wanted to fling to the floor and
stomp on until they were dust beneath me. Holding up my phone again,
I scrolled through names, stopping at one at the very bottom. My
thumb hovered over the keypad before reaching a decision and typing.
Me:
So what does one wear to a kink club?
Annie:
Something
you can easily take off…
About the Author:
Sophie Jordan grew up in the Texas hill country where she wove fantasies of dragons, warriors, and princesses. A former high school English teacher, she's also the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Avon historical romances. She now lives in Houston with her family. When she's not writing, she spends her time overloading on caffeine (lattes and Diet cherry Coke preferred), talking plotlines with anyone who will listen (including her kids), and cramming her DVR with true-crime and reality-TV shows. Sophie also writes paranormal romances under the name Sharie Kohler.
Website: sophiejordan.net
Twitter: https://twitter.com/
Amazon link: http://amzn.to/1yJLnRA
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