Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

I’m dazed and confused, primarily from the lack of sleep all weekend. Leaving Dr. Taylor’s office that day confirmed that I am fifteen weeks along, pregnant by a man I despise. A stranger, in fact.

The weekend was spent panicking, planning, more panicking, and eating way too much chocolate. It wasn’t the next five months that I had to worry about, it was the rest of my life.

Was I even mother material? When I was fifteen, I changed my cousin’s diaper and got shit all over her face. The little brat wouldn’t keep still. Then, when I realized there was shit on the blanket, I threw it in the trash and told my auntie we left it at the park.

I’m going to be a terrible mother.

Vicky is sitting on my desk, crossed-legged and shoving her cell in my face. I push it away in dismay, not wanting to deal with anything and trying my best to ignore the dry heaving. It’s Monday morning, and the office buzz is that Haden is officially back in town. Even Dee looks nervous, although I don’t know why since she has moved on with someone old enough to be her dad.

“You don’t look well,” Vicky sympathizes, handing me a bottle of water.

“Would you feel well if the man whose life you’re going to turn upside-down is just about to walk through that door?”

“You have a point. So don’t you want to know more about him?”

“I don’t think now’s the time.”

Vicky ignores me. “He’s into extreme sports.”

“Aren’t most guys?” I place my head down on my desk, resting my eyes for a brief moment.

“He loves animals. Has two dogs, Marley and Max. They’re Yorkshire Terriers.”

“Really? That’s kind of . . . feminine,” I mumble into my arm.

Vicky laughs, agreeing. “His favorite TV show is Top Gear.”

“Such a guy show.”

“Oh, and he plays the guitar.”

I raise my head slowly, blinking at the bright fluorescent lights. “Hmm . . . kinda hot.”

I cover my mouth immediately as if I was caught saying a naughty word. Vicky laughs but stops as soon as we hear the muffled voices. I try to shoo her away, turning around so I am facing the computer and pretending that the words on my screen actually make sense, when in reality, my nervous system has gone into meltdown mode.

“Hey, Babe!”

Marcus turns my chair back around and plants a juicy kiss on my lips. Without seeming too obvious, I pull away from him and flash a fake smile, a sign of endearment to cover my nerves.

He slides his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in again. This is not appropriate work behavior so I gently scold him. He appears annoyed, but I ignore his childish behavior.

The Jer

k is standing beside him.

My eyes are heavily studying the pile in the carpet and slowly but steadily move up and trace his shoes. They are shiny black with a slight point. Perhaps a size ten . . . you know what they say about big feet. Move on! His pants are navy, tailored to enhance his lean physique. Making sure my eyes avoid his crotch, I slowly scan the buttons on his shirt until I have no choice but to acknowledge his face. My eyes linger on his lips; they are full and deliciously pink, parted slightly to reveal his straight teeth. Just do it . . . just look at his goddamn eyes because everyone is staring at you!

1 . . . 2 . . . 3, and there they are. He is watching, and his simple stare has shot right through me, sitting at the pit of my stomach. Maybe it’s the four months apart, a new hairstyle or new clothes, but something about him is different. He looks . . . well . . . sexy.

This is going to be your baby daddy.

You have to live the rest of your life around this man.

He has no fucking clue I am the devil in disguise right now.

So why is he looking at me with an odd yet familiar stare?

And why are you looking at him like you want him inside you?