A New Contemporary Erotic Romance Series, Bad Boy Fever
Book 1, Spanked by the Bad Boy
Coming Soon from
Decadent Publishing
As the personal assistant to the owner of one of the top engineering firms in Denver, Tiffany Brooks has worked hard at maintaining a professional façade, intent on ridding herself of terrible habits—like her attraction to bad boys. But when the owner of DC Construction enters her world two years after their one-time anonymous sexual encounter, everything turns upside down.
Declan Cage is the type of guy who makes a lasting impression, especially with women, yet the gorgeous assistant at Stoub Engineering never remembers his name—or does she? Intrigued by her game, her sexier than sin body, and an infuriating prissy attitude, Ms. Brooks is begging to be taken into hand, and he’s the man to do it.
Armed with the knowledge Declan doesn’t recognize her, will Tiffany give in to her desire for him yet again, or will her past come back to haunt them both and ruin their chance at something real?
Declan Cage is the type of guy who makes a lasting impression, especially with women, yet the gorgeous assistant at Stoub Engineering never remembers his name—or does she? Intrigued by her game, her sexier than sin body, and an infuriating prissy attitude, Ms. Brooks is begging to be taken into hand, and he’s the man to do it.
Armed with the knowledge Declan doesn’t recognize her, will Tiffany give in to her desire for him yet again, or will her past come back to haunt them both and ruin their chance at something real?
Spanked by the Bad Boy Excerpt
Tiffany Brooks heard the familiar tocato-tocato-tocato sound of a purring motor. She swiveled in her office chair to look out the window and saw him park his custom chopper next to her car on the paved lot of Stoub Engineering.
Straddling his chrome bike wearing chunky leather work boots, jeans, and a simple white T-shirt, Declan Cage set her heart to pitter-pat.
She touched her chest and groused, “You’re not attracted to him, Tiffany.”
Tucking a piece of sable brown hair behind her ear, she straightened her shoulders and put on her toothy-white smile.
“Good morning,” she said when he entered the building.
“Morning, Ms. Brooks.”
She observed him coming toward her desk and willed her face to look pleasant, yet restrained. She needed to keep her gaze particularly uninterested in him although the smug politeness she plastered across her features was hard to accomplish. Declan had a swagger that made her want to gawk at him.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “And you?”
“Fabulous.”
Her response was a blank-faced, “I’m sorry. I’m not good with names.”
He crinkled his brow, and the muscle in his jaw flexed. Yeah. There it was. The look. She’d definitely gotten under his skin.
“I’m Declan.” He turned slightly to show her his back and gestured over his shoulder toward the logo. The silver skull ring he wore on his thumb gleamed. “From DC Construction,” he said. She couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles bulged beneath the shirt.
“Oh yes.” She waved her hand about.
She knew who he was and had immediately recognized him the first time he sauntered into the office over a month ago. She’d played it cool then, and she’d play it cool now. Besides, revealing her little secret would be nothing but detrimental. Yet even if it were a dangerous game, she loved bugging the hell out of him with her “I’m bad with names” thing, especially since she imagined he wasn’t used to a woman forgetting him.
Continuing with the “I’m a busy professional who’s not impressed by you” farce, she casually glanced at her laptop, flipped the lid closed, then looked back up at him. “How may I help you today?”
“Matthew called me this morning. He said he left some plans here, and I should come by to pick them up.”
“Plans for the Cherry Hills project, right?”
Declan smiled, and his dimples made an appearance through the brownish stubble on his face. Tiffany shook her legs beneath her desk a couple of times then stopped the nervous movement, glad he couldn’t see them.
“Yes,” he said. “For the parking garage.”
She rolled her chair back and stood, sliding her hands down the sides of her hips, hoping to smooth out any wrinkles in her skirt and secretly wishing to bring attention to her curves. She removed her sweater so the silk and lace tank top hidden beneath could be seen. When she flopped the garment over the back of her chair, she straightened her spine and pressed her ample breasts out.
“Follow me,” she said, tugging at the bottom hem of her shirt.
Satisfied she’d given him a fairly good view of her hourglass figure, she glanced up. Declan stood beside her, and even though she wore four-inch heels, he towered above her. His height sort of intimidated her, but her body didn’t seem to impress him.
Crap.
He pulled a cell phone from the leather holder hooked to his jeans and stared at the screen. “Sorry,” he said in a bored tone. “I forgot to send a text.” His fingers tapped. He put the phone away in a lackadaisical manner. “Lead on.”
Unwilling to let his lack of interest faze her, she gave Declan her back and walked. “The plans are in Mr. Stoub’s office.”
“Super,” he said.
She sashayed across the room with her chin held high, stopping at the marble counter across from the conference room and pointed toward the fancy coffee maker. “There’s fresh coffee. Can I get you some?”
“No. I’m fine. But thanks for offering,” he said.
“Mm.” She continued toward the office, Declan following behind her. “Well.…” After walking in, she eyed several elongated white tubes sitting on top of the oversized desk and gestured toward one wingback chair. “Have a seat. It will take me a second or two to find the right drawings.” She walked around the office furniture as Declan sat on the edge of the chair. Picking up one tube, she read the label. “Sawyer,” she said and set it down in too much of a rush. Her hand accidently hit the other containers. They jostled and started to roll. She tried to stop their momentum, but several of the cylinders went over the side and hit the ground. “Geez Louise.” Tiffany sidestepped and bent to get them.
Declan had already jumped up to help her.
“Here, let me,” he said, coming to her side and squatting next to her.
When he reached for the mess, his right arm brushed against the top portion of her left shoulder. She sucked in a breath at the contact and thought her heart would stop from the frisson of energy snapping over her skin. Every part of her body became aware of him. He was potent. And virile. A rough, intoxicating man in his prime.
Refusing to be reduced to a quivering weakling, she reminded herself he was only a man, akin to any other, and turned to see his face. “Thank you.”
He met her gaze. “Anytime.”
Those eyes. The color of the sea. Deep, blue-green, and fathomless.
Who was she trying to kid? Declan Cage wasn’t just any man. She looked away and focused on something else.
Tiffany fixed her attention on the clutter she’d created, but she was still watching him—staring at his large hands while he gathered up the blueprint holders. She licked her lips and pictured those hands on her body, fondling her.
“I think this is what you’re here for,” she said and tugged one tube out of his grip. “Cherry Hills.” She turned the container around so the label faced him. He nodded. “I’ll trade you.” She switched her lone cylinder with his three, tucking one up against her side before she straightened and went to the desk. “I’ve tried to get Mr. Stoub to put these plans away and not keep them on his desk.”
Carefully, Tiffany placed each blueprint tube alongside the others on the desktop and watched to make sure she wasn’t going to have any runaways. When she was satisfied they were going to stay in place, she glanced up.
Declan had already taken the plans out and unrolled them, eyeing the specs where he stood.
“This is exactly what I need,” he said.
“Great.”
He slightly turned the large parchment. The cords in his tanned forearms worked, jumping beneath the light smattering of crisp sun-bronzed hair. His biceps flexed. She focused on the tattoo. The tatt wandered up his right arm and kept going—the end hidden beneath the material of his T-shirt. She made a fist, trying to stop the itch to trace the colorful artwork imprinted on him, and studied the width of his shoulders and breadth of his chest instead. Compelled, her gaze lowered to his jeans. Oh, my. The denim was worn white in all the right places.
Tiffany Brooks heard the familiar tocato-tocato-tocato sound of a purring motor. She swiveled in her office chair to look out the window and saw him park his custom chopper next to her car on the paved lot of Stoub Engineering.
Straddling his chrome bike wearing chunky leather work boots, jeans, and a simple white T-shirt, Declan Cage set her heart to pitter-pat.
She touched her chest and groused, “You’re not attracted to him, Tiffany.”
Tucking a piece of sable brown hair behind her ear, she straightened her shoulders and put on her toothy-white smile.
“Good morning,” she said when he entered the building.
“Morning, Ms. Brooks.”
She observed him coming toward her desk and willed her face to look pleasant, yet restrained. She needed to keep her gaze particularly uninterested in him although the smug politeness she plastered across her features was hard to accomplish. Declan had a swagger that made her want to gawk at him.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “And you?”
“Fabulous.”
Her response was a blank-faced, “I’m sorry. I’m not good with names.”
He crinkled his brow, and the muscle in his jaw flexed. Yeah. There it was. The look. She’d definitely gotten under his skin.
“I’m Declan.” He turned slightly to show her his back and gestured over his shoulder toward the logo. The silver skull ring he wore on his thumb gleamed. “From DC Construction,” he said. She couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles bulged beneath the shirt.
“Oh yes.” She waved her hand about.
She knew who he was and had immediately recognized him the first time he sauntered into the office over a month ago. She’d played it cool then, and she’d play it cool now. Besides, revealing her little secret would be nothing but detrimental. Yet even if it were a dangerous game, she loved bugging the hell out of him with her “I’m bad with names” thing, especially since she imagined he wasn’t used to a woman forgetting him.
Continuing with the “I’m a busy professional who’s not impressed by you” farce, she casually glanced at her laptop, flipped the lid closed, then looked back up at him. “How may I help you today?”
“Matthew called me this morning. He said he left some plans here, and I should come by to pick them up.”
“Plans for the Cherry Hills project, right?”
Declan smiled, and his dimples made an appearance through the brownish stubble on his face. Tiffany shook her legs beneath her desk a couple of times then stopped the nervous movement, glad he couldn’t see them.
“Yes,” he said. “For the parking garage.”
She rolled her chair back and stood, sliding her hands down the sides of her hips, hoping to smooth out any wrinkles in her skirt and secretly wishing to bring attention to her curves. She removed her sweater so the silk and lace tank top hidden beneath could be seen. When she flopped the garment over the back of her chair, she straightened her spine and pressed her ample breasts out.
“Follow me,” she said, tugging at the bottom hem of her shirt.
Satisfied she’d given him a fairly good view of her hourglass figure, she glanced up. Declan stood beside her, and even though she wore four-inch heels, he towered above her. His height sort of intimidated her, but her body didn’t seem to impress him.
Crap.
He pulled a cell phone from the leather holder hooked to his jeans and stared at the screen. “Sorry,” he said in a bored tone. “I forgot to send a text.” His fingers tapped. He put the phone away in a lackadaisical manner. “Lead on.”
Unwilling to let his lack of interest faze her, she gave Declan her back and walked. “The plans are in Mr. Stoub’s office.”
“Super,” he said.
She sashayed across the room with her chin held high, stopping at the marble counter across from the conference room and pointed toward the fancy coffee maker. “There’s fresh coffee. Can I get you some?”
“No. I’m fine. But thanks for offering,” he said.
“Mm.” She continued toward the office, Declan following behind her. “Well.…” After walking in, she eyed several elongated white tubes sitting on top of the oversized desk and gestured toward one wingback chair. “Have a seat. It will take me a second or two to find the right drawings.” She walked around the office furniture as Declan sat on the edge of the chair. Picking up one tube, she read the label. “Sawyer,” she said and set it down in too much of a rush. Her hand accidently hit the other containers. They jostled and started to roll. She tried to stop their momentum, but several of the cylinders went over the side and hit the ground. “Geez Louise.” Tiffany sidestepped and bent to get them.
Declan had already jumped up to help her.
“Here, let me,” he said, coming to her side and squatting next to her.
When he reached for the mess, his right arm brushed against the top portion of her left shoulder. She sucked in a breath at the contact and thought her heart would stop from the frisson of energy snapping over her skin. Every part of her body became aware of him. He was potent. And virile. A rough, intoxicating man in his prime.
Refusing to be reduced to a quivering weakling, she reminded herself he was only a man, akin to any other, and turned to see his face. “Thank you.”
He met her gaze. “Anytime.”
Those eyes. The color of the sea. Deep, blue-green, and fathomless.
Who was she trying to kid? Declan Cage wasn’t just any man. She looked away and focused on something else.
Tiffany fixed her attention on the clutter she’d created, but she was still watching him—staring at his large hands while he gathered up the blueprint holders. She licked her lips and pictured those hands on her body, fondling her.
“I think this is what you’re here for,” she said and tugged one tube out of his grip. “Cherry Hills.” She turned the container around so the label faced him. He nodded. “I’ll trade you.” She switched her lone cylinder with his three, tucking one up against her side before she straightened and went to the desk. “I’ve tried to get Mr. Stoub to put these plans away and not keep them on his desk.”
Carefully, Tiffany placed each blueprint tube alongside the others on the desktop and watched to make sure she wasn’t going to have any runaways. When she was satisfied they were going to stay in place, she glanced up.
Declan had already taken the plans out and unrolled them, eyeing the specs where he stood.
“This is exactly what I need,” he said.
“Great.”
He slightly turned the large parchment. The cords in his tanned forearms worked, jumping beneath the light smattering of crisp sun-bronzed hair. His biceps flexed. She focused on the tattoo. The tatt wandered up his right arm and kept going—the end hidden beneath the material of his T-shirt. She made a fist, trying to stop the itch to trace the colorful artwork imprinted on him, and studied the width of his shoulders and breadth of his chest instead. Compelled, her gaze lowered to his jeans. Oh, my. The denim was worn white in all the right places.
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