The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance Read Online Free

brunch so I’ll skip lunch and save myself for one of Cora’s lovely teatime treats. Unless I am mistaken, I believe she is making scones today. I open a magazine I picked up at the newsstand yesterday evening and go right to the horoscope page at the back of it. Hmmm … Aries.
    Acting impulsively is not the best idea this week. Resist temptation. Don’t eat that last cookie in the packet. Instead, take stock, get your ducks in a row, and get ready for the best adventure of your life. Life is about to surprise you.
    I read it again. Got it. Don’t act impulsively.  
    I flick the pages disinterestedly. Imagine my surprise when I turn a page and see a large picture of a shit-faced Cash in leather pants and silver shirt. A disheveled blonde is snuggled up to him. They are in a nightclub or restaurant. The title of the piece is:
    Is Cash Hunter the most
    eligible man in the world?
    On closer inspection I note from their reflection in the mirror behind them that his right hand is full of blondie’s butt. Inappropriate and quite frankly tasteless butt grab, but the blonde seems to dig it. She is looking up at him with an awed, stupid expression on her face. I let my eyes move over to his free hand. A sigh escapes my mouth. I’ve always loved his hands. They are big, strong and manly. Mooning over his hand, God, you’re lame . I leave the picture and start scrutinizing the next one.
    That turns out to be a to-die-for picture of him at a sunny beach. All his lovely, hard muscles are on display and he is with a different blonde this time. This one is curvier and seems more self-assured. She has a pair of sunglasses pushed up on her head, one hand is resting on her tanned hip, and the other is placed possessively on his chest. 
    He’s always had a thing for blondes.
    A stray thought pops into my head . I’m blonde.
    I turn the page quickly and there is a full-page, black and white photo of him in a tux at some kind of award ceremony or music bash. This time I recognize the woman he is with. Octavia Harding, his manager. Except for her fake breasts, that actually look like two halves of a tennis ball shoved underneath her skin, she is two lean nuggets away from being an anorexic.
    I don’t like her. I never have.
    From the first moment I laid eyes on her I felt that there was something cold and malicious about her. A couple of times I have seen videos of her standing next to the band members, an arrogant smile stretching her crimson mouth; she actually makes my skin crawl.
    I could easily have sat there gazing at his picture a bit longer, but I close the magazine with a snap and drop it into the wastepaper basket. Seeing the magazine in the bin makes me feel mildly victorious. I’ll conquer my silly crush if it is the last thing I do. I decide to have a bath. Britney will be at least an hour, and being in the bath always relaxes me. Allows me to think and clear my head.
    I run the bath, pour in a whole load of fragrant bath cubes, put my hair into a messy topknot, and lower myself into the scented water. Mmmm … this was definitely one of my better ideas. I lean my head back against the folded towel and close my eyes.
    Let’s think this thru .
    I shouldn’t be so harsh on myself. First off, I’ve been in love with this guy for years. Obviously the first encounter is going to be either traumatic, disastrous, or both. It was both. So what? The worst is over. From now on I’m prepared. I’ve read the side effects warning label: This asshole is likely to break your heart.
    The good thing is I now know just how hot he is and how strong he comes on and things will be different. If I just stay calm and unaffected, bit by bit he will reveal his true self and I’ll discover that he ain’t all that. Once I see that my memories of him are all flawed and he is far from perfect, I will realize that he is a hero only in my mind.
    At that point I will either be put off, or better still, so totally sickened that I will wonder why