A former professor of English Education at the University of Hawai'i, Violet does in fact miss teaching terribly but is ecstatic to now be on the other side of the page writing wickedly fun contemporary romance novels.
When she's not catering to the whims of her story characters or feeding her book-a-day reading addiction, she enjoys tackling reno projects with her power tools while trying pretty much anything without reading the directions first and cooking 'special edition' dishes that laugh in the face of recipes.
Violet lives in Hawai'i with her two cute kids and similarly adorable husband.
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The • Nice • Girl n. 1. female of the species who never does anything or anyone bad: Hands-off, she’s a nice girl. 2. the woman that men take home to meet mom: Find my son a ‘nice girl to love.’ SEE ALSO: a good girl; girl scout; Abby Bartlett
This is the complete Nice Girl to Love serial romance collection, which contains: Resisting the Bad Boy (Book One), Falling for the Good Guy(Book Two), and Choosing the Right Man (Book Three).
THE ONE SHE NEVER THOUGHT SHE COULD KEEP…
Abby Bartlett is the quintessential nice girl. Between teaching, volunteering, completing her PhD, and helping her best friend raise his daughter, Abby never gets the chance to be anything but nice. That is, until the all-wrong-for-her man she’s only ever known from afar starts daring her to simply take that chance for herself. His sage advice? Try something wild and fast. Preferably him.
An unbridled, hotshot attorney with a not-so-little black book, Connor Sullivan has earned himself quite the bad boy reputation. But in his defense, he’s a very conscientious one. He knows far too well that sometimes in life, love isn’t enough…or worse, not even a factor at all. To avoid that misery–and repel the drama–Connor has a firm ‘nothing over a month’ rule. Who knew a nice girl would be the one to make him want to break all his rules?
THE ONE SHE NEVER HOPED SHE COULD HAVE…
Abby is well aware that everyone thinks she’s in love with her best friend Brian. He is, after all, the type of man a nice girl should be with—the polar opposite of the bad boy—the kind of guy who didn’t let his wife’s decade-long illness stop him from showering her with a lifetime of love every second until her dying day. But everyone’s wrong; she couldn’t possibly be in love with him. Because she’s never once allowed herself that option.
It’s taken a while but Brian has finally come to terms with surviving the woman he spent half his life loving, a third of it losing. Truth is though, he wouldn’t have ‘survived’ any of it really had it not been for Abby—sweet, incredible Abby—the woman he’s never once had to picture his life without, never realized he couldn’t truly live without. Until now. Now that he’s finally able to love her the way she deserves, the way he knows she wants to be loved…by his brother. Who’s giving him exactly one chance to speak now or forever hold his peace.
A DECISION SHE NEVER DREAMED SHE’D HAVE TO MAKE…
And now it’s up to Abby to decide between the bad boy wanting to start a life with her and the good guy fighting for the life they’ve already built.
“I don’t get why those women gossip about me,” Connor grumbled. “I’m not really all that interesting.”
“They seem to disagree. They went on and on about pool hall brawls and sex clubs…”
He rolled his eyes. “The first is only partly true and the second not at all.”
“Aw. Brian will be so disappointed,” she teased. “He’s been making cracks about all your sexual conquests for at least the last decade or so.”
Oh, he has, has he? He made a mental note to kick Brian’s ass later. “Yeah, well my brother tends to have a flair for the dramatic.”
“Really?” Another impish grin. “So no plundering or pillaging to speak of?”
Trust a future English professor to get him all hot and horny with choice vocabulary words. “Nope, sorry,” he downplayed.
“I don’t think I believe you,” she sang out, hopping onto the bed and propping herself up on a pillow, heels kicking in the air as if they were about to exchange sleepover stories. “In fact, I think you’re going to have to let me be the judge of that. Tell me the most supremely wicked thing you’ve ever done.”
“I am not having this discussion with you.”
“Why not?” Abby lowered her gaze down to his zipper, which seemed to be moving telekinetically. “Uncomfortable?”
He crouched over a bit more.
“C’mon. I’m curious about your hedonistic ways,” she kept on, clearly amused by his discomfort. “Are we talking secret society orgies with whips and chains?”
“What?! God, no.”
“Backdoor action? Threesomes?”
He averted his gaze to study a missed stitching in the rug he never noticed before.
“Seriously?” That quieted her, and boggled her eyes quite a bit. “Were they with two women or are you a ‘Devil’s Three Way’ kind of guy?”
Where the hell did she learn that term? Attempting to clear his throat was suddenly very difficult. “Uh…both.”
She let out a faint whistle. “Wow.” Okay, she looked far too curious now for her own good.
“But I haven’t done either in a while. It was all pretty much consolidated to one year of my life a long time ago.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?”
“I didn’t say that.” He shrugged. “Honestly, it was fun and exciting at the time but it got old fast. It’s a ton more work than pornos make it out to be.”
“Well, what if it were me and another girl satisfying your every carnal desire? Would you still feel like it was work?”
He nodded. And meant it. “Another woman would just end up getting in the way. Plus, she’d get all pissy that I’d be focusing solely on you and that’s never fun.”
She bit her lip, a reluctant smile peeking through regardless. “What a sweet, utterly disturbing compliment.” Her expression turned contemplative then. “Well what about you, me, and another guy?”
“Oh, hell no.” He scowled. No way was he inviting some other man to see her, let alone touch her. A low growl rumbled in his chest. No, just no. The thought of it made him...jealous. An altogether unfamiliar and extremely unpleasant feeling.
“Oookay. Then how about the other thing? The…you know?” She turned a sweet shade of pink and shook her heinie in the air.
Holy hell, but the woman was trying to kill him. “Abby, you don’t have to do any of that for me. Honest. Contrary to what the rumor mill spews out, I’m not some kinky sex fanatic. When you and I eventually get together, it’s going to be plenty hot, believe me. We won’t need any of those bells and whistles.” As he said it, he realized how true a statement that was. Just kissing Abby last night had been ten times more intoxicating than some of the more down and dirty romps he’d had with other women in his past.
“Hmm.” She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, silently thoughtful, a small smile playing on her lips.
Good god, what was she thinking now? Already, this kinky interview from hell had him ten degrees past aroused. His own fault for coming in here, really. It was way past time for him to leave.
But just as he stood to go grab what was unequivocally going to be a very cold shower, Abby sat back up and called out casually, “Hey, could you toss me my lotion?” She pointed at the dresser behind him. “My legs get so dry here in the summers without it.”
Such an innocent request.
That he didn’t trust for one second.
He was sure this was going to be a look but don’t touch deal with her lathering up those gorgeous legs of hers while he sat there like schmuck. Staring, no doubt. He narrowed his eyes and began silently listing all the ways he was going to pay her back for this when her two-week stay here was up. Slapping an unaffected look on his face, he passed her the lotion, forcibly blocking all the erotic lotion-inspired images that were attempting to take over his brain. Evil woman. Only a day into their no-sex agreement and already he was closer to begging than he cared to admit.
While avoiding direct eye contact with the skin smoothing extravaganza, his gaze strayed to the partially open plastic bag sitting atop her dresser. It was over at the other end but he recognized the hot purple logo on the bag immediately.
Just like that, every muscle in his body stopped working.
Well, save one, that is.
The bag was from an adult novelty shop his friend Kim owned just a little north of here. He could only make out two of the items in the bag but they were enough to send his blood pressure skyrocketing—the first was what looked to be the tiniest pair of sheer white panties that would effectively cover nothing and, Lord help him, a silver bullet vibrator. He was going to have a stroke.
Stifling a groan over how the word ‘stroke’ instantly made him think about rubbing one off, he gripped the edge of the dresser like a man possessed. The door was just a few feet away. He could make it. But first he needed to get some much needed air into his lungs. Breathe, you moron!
He dragged in a breath. And that’s when he heard it.
The tiniest whisper of a giggle.
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