Five Reasons Women Love Bad Boys

By Jessica Lemmon

Oh, the bad boy. Who doesn’t love a guy in black leather, with a wicked curve to his smile, and a gleam in his eye that says, “Come on, baby, let’s get into trouble.”?

I never knew I was the bad boy type…until I started writing them. Now I can’t get enough. What’s beautiful about bad boys is there is a wide range. From down and dirty to hard and gritty to the kind of bad boy I love to write the most: the sweet heat.

You know the type. The kind of guy who is a good family man at heart, but won’t hesitate to toss his woman over his knee. The man who is loyal to his friends, but still takes physical risks that put him in danger. From billionaires, to ex-military landscapers, to rock stars, I’ve written many, many bad boys. And I’m not stopping any time soon.

Here are my top five reasons women like you (and me!) love bad boys. I’ve also included a few of my bad boys as recommendations. Which one is for you?

  • Bad Boys know who they are. They may be jerks, but they know they are and aren’t afraid to be that way. The key to any successful pairing with a bad boy is to find a heroine who challenges him. Bad boys don’t shy away from challenge. They take it on.
    See: Fighting for Devlin
  • Bad Boys are confident in the sack. Because they have had so much *ahem* experience in the bedroom, the woman who lands a bad boy is going to find he’s pretty darn good at what he does in there. He knows how to please her, and because of a stubborn streak a mile wide, he’s not going to stop until he does.
    See: Bringing Home the Bad Boy
  • Bad Boys are unpredictable. The girl of his dreams probably dated some schmoe before she dated him, and that guy likely ironed his socks. Meanwhile, her new bad boy beau is telling her to pack a bag because he has a surprise for her, and he’s not going to tell her what it is.
    See: A Bad Boy for Christmas
  • Bad Boys are loyal. He won’t abandon his true friends, or a family that’s done him right. While bad boys often run from what’s hurting them, they still have a network of friends they will never cut out of their lives.
    See: Rescuing the Bad Boy
  • Bad Boys love endlessly. Once you win a bad boy’s heart, he’s not going anywhere. He values the love of a good woman the way he values a shot of the best whiskey: through to his soul. Bag one of these boys and you’ll experience a lifetime of love and loyalty, and a healthy dose of toe-curling unpredictability.
    See: Return of the Bad Boy

 

Enter to Win a $10.00 Amazon Gift Card and a Second Chance Series Print Set (Bks 1-3) 
 
RETURN OF THE BAD BOY
Second Chance #4
Jessica Lemmon
Releasing April 26th, 2016
Forever

 

 

He’s a mess…Asher Knight has three constants in his life: music, beautiful women, and a bottle of Jack. He lives for the next gig, the next city, and dreams only of a life spent in front of an arena full of screaming fans. But Asher’s nomad ways come to a sudden stop when he learns he’s the father of a three-year-old from a past relationship and suddenly this rock star bad boy is forced to put down roots.Only she can clean up

Gloria Shields is no one’s fool. Sure, the sexual chemistry between her and Asher has always been intense, but she’d never risk giving her heart to a man who has a perfect record for breaking them. Except the man desperate to make
things right with his newfound son is nothing like the rock god she’s guarded her heart against for years. And it isn’t long before she starts to wonder if life with this bad boy might be the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

 
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Excerpt-Banner  

“Listen, Asher”—she cleared her throat and tore her eyes away from his biceps, which were absolutely delicious and testing the limits of his T-shirt in the most distracting way possible—“I don’t know what you think you’re doing—”

“No, you listen.” He palmed her hip much like Brice had earlier, but unlike Brice, when Asher touched her, her nipples perked up and every inch of her grew warm. Asher’s nearness, one hand gripping her firmly as he looked down at her with dark hunger in his eyes, was so hot she couldn’t think.

The crowd milling around them were having loud, drunken conversations, so he lowered his face to her ear to speak.

“I’m coming for you, Sarge.” His hand moved from her hip to her lower back, his fingers splaying wide and slipping beneath the material of her shirt. “Bet you’ve never had anyone come for you, have you?” His nose moved along her ear, warm breath tickling her skin. “Bet you were a rebellious teen with a nose ring and a bad attitude and all you wanted was to feel good.”

No nose ring, but the rest was scarily accurate.

“Well, guess what, honey?” he continued, his fingertips sizzling on her bare skin. “I’m going to make you feel good. I’m the only one who can.”

He pulled his face away and she had to will her mouth to close. Her teeth clacked together as her brain scrambled to figure out what part she should argue with first. Wrenching a fist around his T-shirt, she tugged him close. A small smile played on his mouth, and his hand went higher beneath her shirt. He was anticipating a kiss, but she wasn’t going to kiss him.

“Listen up, you arrogant bastard.” Anger vibrated through her arms and a charge shot from her toes to the crown of her head. “You don’t get to claim me. I’m not your property. I can do whatever I want.” Because she wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, she added, “And I can do whomever I want.”

His lips flinched, but he didn’t back away, stepping even closer and touching the tip of her nose with his. Her vision was now swimming in dark hair, dark eyes, and the sexiest smirk she’d ever seen.

It’s not sexy. It’s stupid, remember?

But it wasn’t. And the rest of her knew it. Her nipples tightened, her body tingled, and the hand she’d wrapped around his shirt began to sweat…

“You do me, Sarge. No one else,” he said.

“I’m not”—she had to swallow around a very dry throat to finish—“doing you.”

“Brice McGuire doesn’t know how to make your body sing. I do.” He slid his nose along hers and moved his hand from her back to her hair. She shivered. “Want me to make your body sing, Sarge?”

 

 
A former job-hopper, Jessica Lemmon resides in Ohio with her husband and rescue dog. She holds a degree in graphic design currently gathering dust in an impressive frame. When she’s not writing super-sexy heroes, she can be found cooking, drawing, drinking coffee (okay, wine), and eating potato chips. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want.

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