Famously Bad

By Katana Collins

A swoon-worthy romance from USA Today Bestselling Author Katana Collins! If you like smoking hot romance with billionaire alpha heroes, you’ll love this steamy, short read!

I knew he was trouble from the start...

I'm a good girl. I did everything I was supposed to do my whole life. Honors Society. Grad School. Met and got engaged to the exact Polo shirt wearing man everyone expected of me. Then, my world came crashing down. He said I wasn't good enough to be his wife and left me at the altar, running back to his ex.

So, now... I'm on my honeymoon alone and on a mission not to come home until I've experienced the "big o" with someone other than my battery operated boyfriend. Mission: Honeymoan.

Things were not off to a good start until famous movie star, Pierce Whitley, waltzed onto the first class ferry. Heartthrob. All around panty-melting playboy. And he's taken it upon himself to lend me a helping hand with my mission.

When I'm with Pierce, I don't feel like the good girl. For once, I feel bad. Famously bad.

Fans of Pam Godwin, Skye Warren, and Alexa Riley will love this short, steamy contemporary romance from USA Today bestselling author Katana Collins!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katana Collins
• Release date: Jun 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005616816

Katana Collins

Katana Collins splits her time evenly between photographing boudoir portraits and writing steam-your-glasses romances. In addition to navigating life as a small business owner, a first-time homeowner, and a newlywed, she is the author of the best-selling paranormal Soul Stripper trilogy. Her latest erotic suspense series, Wicked Exposure, comes out in 2015, along with its prequel, Wicked Shots. In the summer of 2014, she wrote her first ever graphic novel, Cafe Racer, with her husband Sean Murphy.She and her comic book artist husband commute back and forth as they please between Brooklyn, New York and Portland, Maine, with their ever-growing family of rescue animals (two dogs, a cat, and counting!). She can usually be found hunched over her laptop in a cafe, guzzling gallons of coffee, and wearing fabulous (albeit sometimes impractical) shoes.Visit her on the web at www.katanacollins.comTo contact or interact with Katana,go to Twitter (@KatanaCollins) or Facebook.com/KatanaCollinsIf you loved this or any other of her books, consider joining her street team, Kat's Kittens, on Facebook!

Book preview

Chapter One

Note to self: Dramamine and champagne don’t mix.

The boat swayed back and forth, and with it my stomach lurched. The ferry was a solid three-and-a-half-hour trip, and it hadn’t even left the dock yet.

The dread of a bad mistake roiled my gut—although, that could have been the lurch of the boat. I wasn’t supposed to be here alone. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be here at all.

My eyes fluttered closed and my lashes tickled the tops of my cheeks as I rested my forehead to the cool window.

Maybe it’s not too late? Maybe I could get off this damn boat, hop on an airplane and be back in Los Angeles by tomorrow morning.

I pulled out my phone to check how much a last-minute plane ticket from Croatia back to the United States would cost when my best friend Lainey’s message was flashing on the screen. It was as if she could read my thoughts and anticipate that I was going to turn and run in the opposite direction of adventure.

Lainey:

Girl, you’ve got this. Have SO much fun on your honeymoan sexcation! I wish I could have gone with you.

I cringed, reading her text and responded quickly, letting her know I had made it on the ferry.

Why in the hell did I ever admit to my best friend that I’d never had the big ‘O’ with a man. Yes, I can make it happen myself, especially if I had my battery-operated boyfriend with me. But that same reliable vibrator was worthless when I was with a man. It was like, my brain locked up and I wasn’t able to release.

She had just assumed after I’d gotten engaged that the first orgasm came and went… no pun intended. But when James called off our wedding, I admitted the truth to her. While I was laying in her lap, still in my wedding gown, I said the words: six years with the man, and I had faked it every damn time.

That’s when she concocted this plan—my Honeymoon—or honeymoan as it became affectionately coined.

Since I had maxed out my credit cards to pay for it as my wedding gift to James, Lainey convinced me there was no reason I shouldn’t take the trip. Alone.

And not come home until I’d had my first orgasm.

It was a stupid idea. The freaking worst idea that Lainey had ever had. And for whatever ridiculous reason, this weekend, I found myself boarding a plane to Croatia with a Costco sized box of condoms and my trusty vibrator in tow. Lainey had me convinced that this was my version of Eat, Pray, Love. Or in my case, Eat, Weep, Fuck.

It was hard to believe that just last weekend, James and I had been standing under an arch of roses, holding hands in front of a pastor and every friend and family member I’ve met since birth as he released his hold on my fingers and shook his head saying, I’m sorry. I can’t do this.

I’m sorry. I can’t do this.

What in the ever-living hell? Who does that to someone? Who goes through four years together, plus a two-year engagement, only to call it off the moment you’re supposed to say I do?

My seasickness was overtaken with a whole other sort of sick. Pain and embarrassment twisted in my gut.

His parents had insisted on paying for everything throughout the planning process. Every flower. Every caterer. Which was for the best because just about every wedding idea I’d had was vetoed by them.

It hadn’t even felt like my wedding by the time I was preparing to walk down the aisle. There are expectations of a Langley wedding, I was told. And my rustic chic barn wedding with a pig-pickin’ wasn’t going to cut it for the attorney general’s son.

But my honeymoon… that was mine. And I was determined to pay for it. The Langley’s could have their garden wedding. They could have their seven-tiered cake with fondant. I was paying for my own damn honeymoon.

And God was I ever paying for it—and not only with the credit card I had maxed out, but with blood, sweat, and tears. So many tears… mostly in private.

Even still, I wasn’t about to let the non-refundable reservations go to waste. And maybe that was why Lainey had been able to convince me of this sexcation idea. Letting three thousand dollars of reservations flush down the toilet was too much for me to stomach.

Now here I was, the only person in the first-class cabin on a ferry, alone. Sans husband. Vibrator tucked neatly into the outer pocket of my luggage. Sipping a bottle of champagne and toasting to my loneliness as I ventured across the Adriatic Sea to the small island of Korcula, Croatia.

No one understood why Croatia was my choice for a honeymoon. But if they had seen the photos I had seen and heard the stories from my parents about how magical this little country was? I touched the two wedding bands I had soldered together and linked to a chain necklace.

Even if I couldn’t have my parents with me at my wedding, my honeymoon was my homage to them. My dad had died when I was a teenager—Hodgkin’s lymphoma.