Book Title: Bad at Being Good
Author: A.L. Morrow
Publisher: SourGirl Books
Cover Artist: Morningstar Ashley Designs
Release Date: November 28, 2023
Genre: Contemporary M/M romance, new adult
Tropes: brother’s best friend, friends to lovers, first love, bad boy
Themes: coping with grief, forgiveness, hurt/comfort, found family
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 73 000 words
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
Available on Amazon, Kobo, Apple Books, B&N, and Smashwords
Amazon
No one is good all of the time. Especially me.
Blurb
Six years ago, I promised my friend Kellan that I’d never mess around with his little brother. I accepted it. I didn’t regret it, and I didn’t think twice about it. Milo Sterling—the good student, perfect son, and promising dancer—was off limits.
But that was before.
Before we went away to college. Before Kellan died. Before I flunked out of school.
Now, I’m back home, and Milo’s different. He’s quieter and colder, no longer a boy but a man. And that hurt in his eyes? I put it there the night I failed to save Kellan. I have a lot to make up for. Falling for Milo, no matter how much I want him, would be one more thing to add to my list.
But promises are meant to be broken, and if there’s one thing I’m bad at, it’s being good.
Bad at Being Good is a best friend’s brother/brother’s best friend (dual POV) M/M romance featuring hurt/comfort, found family, coping with grief, and—of course—a happily ever after. Readers are advised to check the Author’s Note for content sensitivities.
I take a hit, and when I can’t hold in the smoke anymore, I lean over our crossed legs. Milo meets me halfway, his eyes closed, his lips puckered. This is the closest I’ve ever been to him. It must be. And all I can think as I exhale and watch him suck up the cloud forming between us is how great that mouth would look wrapped around my cock.
Hmm. Now that’s an idea. What would it take to make that happen?
Then, as if answering my question, Milo’s bottom lip brushes against mine. It’s only for a split second—and it’s unmistakably an accident—but it does. My lungs spasm and my breathing falters. I turn my head away, coughing, to exhale the last of the smoke. Milo hacks a bit, too. When I turn back to check on him, his gaze is locked on my lips, his eyes glassy with something I never expected.
Lust.
It’s sudden and surprising in all the best ways. His lips barrel into mine. The pipe falls into my lap. I cup his face in my hands and close my eyes. And dammit, I don’t think twice. I don’t think of promises or tomorrow or what Kellan would say if he was here.
I just kiss Milo right back.
I must be insane.
But if I am, so is he.
There’s no other explanation. The way he balls his fists in my shirt, pulling me closer like he’s trying to crawl inside, is crazy. When I push my tongue against the seam of his lips, he lets out this hot little moan, opening for me without hesitation. His kiss is clumsy, a bit unpracticed—I bet he’s never had a real boyfriend to mess around with regularly. But that’s cool. I’d rather lead anyway. I’m a people-pleaser like that. It’s one of my better qualities.
I drag my mouth over his jaw and down his throat, directly over his Adam’s apple, then turn him onto his back and pin him down on the bed beneath me. Milo’s hard as fuck. His hips thrust up, grinding against mine while I suck at the base of his neck. There will be evidence there tomorrow of what we’re doing tonight, but he doesn’t seem to care. He simply turns his head to offer me the other side.
This is part of what I like so much about guys: they don’t break. Phoebe Feinstein would’ve given me all kinds of shit if I’d flipped her over and marked her up like this. Not Milo. He’s starving for it.
“Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” I hook my fingertips over the waistband of his sweats and tug.
He nods and props himself up on his elbows, wide-eyed and watching me hover above him. “Yeah.”
Abruptly, I pause, the material halfway down his thighs. His cock springs free and slaps against his belly with the most gorgeously obscene smacking sound I’ve ever heard.
Nope. No underwear here. Mystery solved.
Milo’s dick is long and thin and cut, with precum already leaking from his pretty pink tip. He keeps himself trim—a smooth, heavy sac riding high against his body and his pubes shorn down. Exactly the way I prefer it. Exactly the way I groom myself. My mouth fucking waters. I can’t wait to get my lips around him.
“Is that yeah-please-stop or yeah-keep-going?” I ask.
Milo’s pelvis bucks like he’s trying to hump something—anything—even thin air. “Fuck. Keep going.”
I chuckle. Then, I do.
USA Today bestselling author A.L. Morrow enjoys dreaming up steamy scenes and spectacular settings—often along with a touch of magic or myth. She believes that love is love and likes reading and writing various genres of romance.
In her downtime (what’s that?), A finds delight in scouring for secondhand designer fashions. She briefly lived in a haunted mansion, once took a flight to visit Scotland for a day, and is prone to meeting minor celebrities in random hotel elevators. She resides in the eastern US.
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