She needs to be good.

Five years ago, Kit Landry was homeless and alone at sixteen. Determined to ditch her crappy life, she moved to Nashville with only $200, her guitar, and a notebook full of songs. She hit it big as America’s country sweetheart, but a year of living like a rock star plus a stint in rehab has killed any good will she had with her label. The suits have ordered Kit to shape up or ship out of the limelight. The last thing she needs is a hot, sexy distraction with a sinful smile.

He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

Max Butler is as far from a celebrity as you can get and he likes it that way. A Nashville firefighter, he’s living the single life with a revolving door of parties, friends, and a different woman in his bed every night. When his normal life suddenly collides with the girl on his favorite Rolling Stone cover, he sees the perfect chance to fulfill his ultimate fantasy and see just how bad Kit can be.

Sometimes bad is so very good.

With three weeks until Kit leaves for her big tour, Max promises to give her a break from being the good girl–no strings attached. But when hot days lead to sultry nights, the lines get blurred and suddenly three weeks of bad might not be good enough.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. How she’d tasted, how she’d felt in my arms. Despite the difference in our size, Kit fit perfectly against me—like she was made to be there. We had chemistry, alright. But that was all it was or would ever be.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Shannon Jones?”

The voice came out of nowhere and I lurched up, banging the top of my head on the edge of the fire truck door. Biting back the “fuck me” that could get me written up, I straightened, turned, and found myself looking right into the eyes of the woman I’d just been obsessing over.

Kit was standing there in my station, an expression of surprise and then concern on her face as she glanced to where I’d clonked the living shit out of myself just seconds before. She was wearing a low-cut, little blue sundress and cowboy boots and everything else was miles of bare skin and dark curls. My brain went mushy. Maybe I’d hit my head harder than I’d thought.

Her voice was full of concern as she moved closer. “Max, are you okay? I didn’t mean to sneak up behind you.”

I stared at her like an idiot. In person, I was reminded again of just how gorgeous she was. She walked towards me and I couldn’t move, couldn’t take my eyes off of her. If you looked up “dumbstruck” in the dictionary, you’d see my goofy-ass face pasted right next to it.

I still hadn’t answered when she stopped in front of me. Standing on tiptoe she touched my recent injury. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Her voice was feminine, with a whiskey-edge that tied my gut up in knots. Her hand was cool on my over-heated skin and, as she moved closer, I could smell her sweet, summery, honeysuckle scent. All I wanted to do was pull her lush curves against my body, take her mouth, and find out exactly where this crazy chemistry would take us.

I definitely had a head injury because suddenly I realized that I had her close enough to do all those things and I wasn’t doing anything about it.

Get your shit together, Butler. Carpe the fucking diem.

I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards me, turning us so she was backed up against the door of the fire truck. She still held her packages in her hands and I missed the feel of her touch on my body, but I could work with what I had.

She stared up at me, her big, blue eyes wide with shock but mostly what I saw there was curiosity. She licked her lips and that was all the invitation I needed. I leaned into her, bypassing the prize of her mouth to press a kiss to her throat, just above the place where her pulse pounded against her skin. She was delicious all over, sweet and warm, and I wanted to drag her down to the floor and bury my cock inside her body for hours.

I looked down and realized that my hands were shaking, my breath as quick as hers—and I hadn’t even kissed her yet.

“When we fuck, it’s probably going to kill me.” It came out as a growl, as I tipped her face up to mine and wasted no more time in taking what I wanted.

Kit didn’t play games, no pretending that she didn’t want this, too. She opened to me, meeting my tongue more than halfway when I dove inside. She was as hungry as I was and the kiss was anything but the usual finesse I used on women. There was no slow seduction here. It wasn’t in my power to play games. I was at the mercy of whatever she would give me.

I slanted my mouth over hers, barely giving her a chance to take a breath before I went at her again like I was starving.

And I was famished. For her. It was the craziest thing I’d ever experienced, but I wasn’t going to let a little insanity stop me. It never had before.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, inserting my body in between her legs. The skirt of her dress rode up high on her thighs as I pressed my hard-on against the hot cleft of her pussy. I rolled my hips against her and she dropped the bags in her hands with a thud against the concrete, weaving her fingers into my hair with a pressure that brought a little pain with the pleasure.

I didn’t care. She could do whatever she wanted to my body as long as I got to do exactly what I was doing right now. As long as she let me do this and so much more.

Robin Covington, who NYT Best Selling authors, Robyn Carr and Carly Phillips, said was their new “auto-buy author”, writes sizzling hot contemporary and paranormal romance.

A Night of Southern Comfort, her best-selling debut novel was a 2012 finalist in the RT Book Reviews Reviewers Choice Awards, earned 4.5 stars and was touted by RT Book Reviews as bringing a “fresh, modern feel to the genre while still sticking to the things that get our adrenaline pumping — sex and danger”. When she’s not exploring the theme of fooling around and falling in love, she’s collecting tasty man candy, indulging in a little comic book geek love, and stalking Joe Manganiello.

Robin is a member of the Romance Writers of America, the Washington and Maryland Romance Writers, a faculty member at Romance University, a member of the Waterworld Mermaids, and a contributor to the Happy Ever After blog at USA Today. You can find Robin on her website, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter (@RobinCovington).

Robin lives in Maryland with her hilarious husband, brilliant children, and ginormous puppy.

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