T.L. Swan

What the hell am I doing here? I’m a good girl, and good girls don’t do bad things with men like this.

This is like reality porn . . . only ten times better.

We are officially a bad idea

We are officially a bad idea

Well . . . blow me down.

Our eyes lock, and for the second time tonight my stomach flutters.

“I told you to call me Tristan.”

“And I told you to go away.”

A perfect male specimen.

Complete wolf-whistling material . . . whore-bag material too.

Tristan Miles is chocolate. Rich, delicious, and dreamy, he offers a high . . . but in the end, he is detrimental to your health and bad to the bone.