REVIEW: Bad Judgment by Meghan March

         

OUR REVIEW:

Shel: Bad Judgment is so easy to get sucking into that it's nearly impossible to put it down. I bet you'll find that you sit down to read for a few minutes and the next thing you know you're telling yourself to put the book down and get your shit done for work the next day --and the entire time you're doing whatever it is you have to do, all you can do is think about getting back to Justine and Ryker to see what the hell is going on with them. Court: From the very first line (and oh what a memorable first line it is!) we get a fast paced story of frenemies, to maybe friends to oh I hope they'll be something more! I couldn't put it down either, and it was just a joyride of fun and dilemma, and college drama! And my, oh my I loved it, too! 

Shel: Justine and Ryker are fun to read. She's so strong and funny (the things she says to herself when she's around him!) and he's so ridiculously full of himself and arrogant that watching them dance around each other as the sexual tension keeps building will have you entertained and antsy to see what's going to happen next. Justine was so good at putting Ryker off (despite her attraction to him) and, to be honest, as much as I couldn't wait for her to breakdown and do the dirty with him, I equally enjoyed her rejections of his attempts..she's my hero, for real. She had a sharp tongue, sharp brain, and a laser focus on doing well in law school and graduating--she had no time for Ryker and all of his hot foolishness..until she did have time for him and boy was that fun! Court: My oh my again! The premise of this story was again, one I enjoyed! And how it all comes about was unexpected. Justine is like Shel said, lazer focused on achieving her dreams and this is the second story in a row that has this hugely independent woman and us getting to the see guy work extra hard to get her. It was worth the journey in my eyes, and I know you'll think so too. I like especially when the super cocky guy gets knocked down by how he may feel for a woman and whew, just whew. Meghan's writing makes these characters super likable, relate-able yet still a fun fantasy land of the guy working hard to win his girl. There are some lines that really instilled this for me - like how he says that eventually being turned down enough times will make him actually stop coming back...and she says she never asked him to do it in the first place. Burn. Girl power, yet I teared up because there was so much emotion in the scene, just oh my! OH MY! I loved it. I devoured it. I enjoy everything Meghan March writes! 

Shel: While I had a huge crush on Justine, I also enjoyed Ryker. He delighted me for totally different reasons--his persistence and arrogance and filthy mouth just freaking worked; and when you throw in his complete devotion to Justine and how incredibly loyal and good he actually was, you have some major swoon-age going on. Seeing Justine and Ryker transform from who they were by themselves into who they could be together was just pure new adult romance--their secrets and lies and falling for each other and the mess that they make of everything only to clean it all up-- was fun, angsty, sexy, and romantic. Court: I also enjoyed immensely that he is damned smart, and their study sessions were just as great as their make out sessions. They are my age, and I just found it such a well written story. I highly recommend this to you! Read it. Now. Okay, sorry, but NOW! 

Interested? Read the synopsis below:

He’s so arrogant. She’s so self-righteous. I can’t stand him. I want her. He’s a distraction I don’t need. She’ll say yes eventually because I’m not giving up.   Justine Porter is stuck between a rock and a stripper pole. She lost her law school scholarship, which means she has two choices to keep her life on track: strip for her tuition or tutor the most distractingly sexy guy in her class—the one she’s been turning down for two years straight. It should be an easy choice, but tutoring Ryker Grant could derail her plans to graduate with honors faster than two-for-one night at the Déjà Vu. Then again, topless has never really been her color. She could take the easy road, just this once . . . but the deal has enough loopholes to trip anyone up. Who knew they taught bad judgment in law school?      

BUY IT:

iBooks: http → http://bit.ly/BadJudgmentiBooks
Amazon US → http://amzn.to/2bvjADp
Amazon UK → http://bit.ly/BJAmazonUK
Amazon CA → http://bit.ly/BJAmazonCA
Amazon AU → http://bit.ly/BJAmazonAU
BN → http://bit.ly/BadJudgmentBN
Kobo → http://bit.ly/BadJudgmentKobo
Google Play → http://bit.ly/BadJudgmentGP

    “I’ve got some things I need to say to you, and you’re going to let me.” Her brown eyes snap up to mine, surprise clear in them. “Why should I?” “Because you’re nothing if not curious, and you want to know what I have to say.” She steps backward, and I let my fingertips trail across her skin before they drop away. Justine adjusts the straps of her backpack on her shoulders and tucks Chewbacca into a side pocket. “You know you want to hear the rare sound of me apologizing, don’t you?” Justine purses her lips, and all I can think about is the dreams I had all weekend of her staring down at me from a stage while she danced and stripped. My own private show. I’m not going to admit how many times I jacked off to the mental picture. I need the real thing, and I won’t have another shot if she won’t even give me a chance to talk to her. I don’t know what changes her mind, but she relaxes her posture and relents. “Fine. You’ve got five minutes. This better be good.” It’s not much, but I’ll take it. I lead the way out of the classroom, slipping out the side door I used to make my unobtrusive entrance. Or at least, it was unobtrusive until I decided to share my strike-out history with the entire class at Professor Turner’s invitation. Glancing behind me, I’m marginally surprised to see Justine actually following. I head for the third-floor doors to the library, where the private rooms are. This conversation isn’t for public consumption. The first private room on the right is empty, so I push the door open. Justine trails me inside, and I shrug off my backpack and drop it on one of the four chairs. She closes the door behind her and leans against it, her arms crossed over her chest. I’m guessing she wouldn’t stand that way if she realized how it draws attention to her chest. I force my eyes back to her face. I’m not about to fuck this up. “Wow, you must really plan on groveling if you need privacy,” she says, an eyebrow raised in challenge. “Maybe I just wanted to get you alone.” She rolls her eyes. “And I’m already getting bored.” “You love to bust my balls, don’t you?” “I don’t really like to think about your balls, if you want to know the truth.” I try on my charming smile, the one that has dropped panties for years. “I’m calling bullshit on that. You’ve thought about me at least once.” She pushes off the door and turns halfway to reach for the handle. “And if that’s all you wanted to say, then I think we’re done here.” “Wait.” I’m shocked when she listens. Justine rubs her hands over her face, her every move revealing her frustration. “You ask me out for two years, practically blackmail me into a kiss, then you blow me off completely, and now you’re all up in my business again. What the hell do you want from me?” Her confusion punches me in the gut, making me wish I could tell her why I wasn’t there the morning I promised to help her move. It wasn’t for any reason she thinks. I stride toward her, pressing one palm against the door beside her head. “I’m not blowing you off, and I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.” “Then why—” I can’t give her the explanation she wants, so I try something different. Lowering my head, I catch the next words out of her mouth on my lips. They’re just as soft as I remember, and I drop my other hand to her hip, drawing her against me. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my T-shirt, almost reluctantly, but she’s not pushing me away. I take her mouth, my tongue diving between her lips to taste her again—finally, but the pulsing of my dick against the zipper of my jeans forces me to back off. If I don’t, I’ll be laying her out on the table behind us, and that’s not what this is about. At least, not all of what this is about. With her face flushed and her hair messy from my fingers, Justine shutters her expression. She’s rebuilding her walls brick by brick. That’s not going to work for me. “What’s it going to take, Justine?” I remember asking her the same question at the bar. Her dark eyes fill with confusion. “What’s what going to take?” The words come out defensively. “With you. To get a second chance. I fucked up once, but doesn’t everyone deserve another shot?”                

Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She's also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she's ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com.

FACEBOOK | WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM | AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE | TWITTER | PINTEREST