/* Style Definitions */
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
Spanked by the Bad Boy
Bad Boy Fever Series,
London Saint James
~ Decadent Publishing ~
by the Bad Boy Official Long Blurb
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?
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
“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
“I’m fine,” she said.
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
“Oh yes.” She waved her
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
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
“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
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.
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.
Those eyes. The color of the sea. Deep, blue-green, and
Who was she trying to
kid? Declan Cage wasn’t just any man. She looked away and focused on something
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.”
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.
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.
London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt
“at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the
beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their
fat cat who thinks he owns them.
As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author,
London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that
big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring
characters running around in her head would pay off someday.