Make Me Bad - R.S. Grey Page 0,100
it.
This is real. This is what I wished for on my 25th birthday—well, not this exact thing. Wishing for Ben Rosenberg to impregnate me would have been kind of weird, but I like to think the universe extrapolated what I meant.
Ever since then, I’ve made some big birthday wishes. Why wouldn’t I? The first one worked pretty damn well.
On my 26th birthday, I wished that Ben would propose.
Eight months later, he was down on one knee, sliding a ring on my finger while I did an absolutely abysmal job of keeping it together. In every photo from that night, I have snot running down my face. Eli has one framed in his house. He tells the twins, “That’s your crazy aunt!”
On my 27th birthday, I wished that our wedding would go off without a hitch.
Cut to my dad and Ben’s dad side by side on the dance floor, drunk as skunks, stumbling through the Macarena. They’ve been friends ever since.
On my 28th birthday, I wished we’d try for a baby.
And well, here I am, lying on the Ligurian Coast, knocked up.
It should come as no surprise that I’ve held on to that blue birthday candle, the one that first gave me the courage to change my life. In fact, it’s tucked safely away inside a box in our closet, right on top of a stolen copy of The Divine Comedy, two souvenirs from my early days with Ben.
He suggested we give the book back to Jake. Never. Stolen or not, it’s mine now.
I smile at the thought.
Maybe Ben really did make me bad.
I hope you enjoyed being bad with Madison and Ben! If you love enemies-to-lovers, handsome jerks, and witty banter, keep reading for an excerpt from my bestselling romantic comedy
A PLACE IN THE SUN.
SYNOPSIS
When her mother’s incessant matchmaking hits an all-time high, Georgie Archibald does what any sensible woman would do: she flees the country.
Seeking refuge in the picturesque seaside village of Vernazza, Italy, Georgie’s only plan is to lie low, gorge herself on gelato, and let the wine and waves wash her troubles away…that is until she wakes up in a bed that belongs to the most romantic-looking man she’s ever seen.
Gianluca.
After going out of his way to rescue her, the former London financier turned mysterious recluse makes it clear that despite acting as her white knight, he has no plans to co-star in her fairytale.
She isn’t asking for his heart, though. She’s merely intrigued.
After all, she’s never met a man quite as rude or arrogantly aloof as he is. Even worse, Gianluca isn’t just gorgeous—tall and tan from days spent in the sun—his touch sets her world on fire.
With him, Georgie experiences the most intoxicating passion she’s ever known, and it only takes a few stolen moments for her to realize that sometimes running away from trouble is the best way to find it.
Chapter 1
Georgie
HOW WAS NO one else seeing this?
The two middle-aged tourists in queue to enter the Colosseum were going at it like randy teenagers. The woman had her leg coiled up around her lover’s waist and his hand had disappeared beneath her skirt fifteen minutes ago—the thing hadn’t come up for air since.
She moaned into his mouth and fingered his hair. He growled like an undersexed werewolf, and then went back in for another snog with enough tenacity to suck her lips off.
I sat ensconced from my vantage point a few yards away, picking at a croissant and pretending to pay attention to a travel podcast about the Colosseum. In the last few minutes, the spirited performance had completely stolen my focus. Surely their oxygen levels were getting pretty low.
In all my twenty-six years, I’d never once kissed someone the way they were kissing each other. It was as if they were newlyweds on a transatlantic flight and the pilot had just announced that they’d lost both engines. God, if they went at it like that in full public view at the foot of a crusty old ruin, what on Earth did they do in private?
I blushed just thinking about it.
Eventually, a security guard with a red, pudgy face and an awkward manner asked the couple to politely refrain from boning in line, or so I imagined—his words were in Italian, so I couldn’t be sure. The unflinching lovebirds disappeared inside the Colosseum and I was left with my pastry once again. It’s just me and you, carbs.
“Seat taken?”
I glanced up to find a devastatingly handsome Italian man with cool trainers and slicked-back hair.