Sara Daniel’s Author Guilt vs. The Bad Boy’s Guilt

Friends, I am a frazzled mess. I went to set up my blog last week and realized that it was supposed to go up the week before. Not only did I blow it off, it was the release day for my brand new Bad Boys of Regret Hollow series—the one day no author forgets her blogging commitments. Well, no author except this one.

all 4 togetherSo, now I’m back. It’s release day for book two, The Bad Boy’s Guilt (not, of course, that I have anything to feel guilty about!). I’m writing my post ahead of time and scheduling it in advance, so I don’t miss my day. If you’re reading this, it must have worked. *Time out while I pat myself on the head. Okay, time in.*

Gearing up for the launch of my new series, I was industrious, business-like, and goal-oriented, making sure I had everything in order. Now, I’m a hot mess, and it’s not because I’m obsessively checking sales (okay, not ONLY because I’m obsessively checking sales!) or there are massive fires to put out or tons of extra promotion. I simply can’t concentrate on writing anything new or revising anything old or doing anything that could be construed as being productive or moving forward.

To be fair, my life isn’t all about writing. On Sunday, my family is having a big ceremony where I’m in charge of the room rental, decorations, food for a hundred people, programs, and probably a dozen more things that are slipping my mind at the moment. I’ve drawn up Excel spreadsheets for the guest list and food, strategized my trips to through GFS and Sam’s Club like an Army general planning an invasion. My house is the staging ground for battle, and I’m crushing everything in my path…including my writing muse.

And yes, I feel guilty about that. But it’s way more fun to concentrate on a hunky bad boy who’s carrying around a $#*!-ton of guilt than on me, even if I am looking better than ever thanks to a cute new haircut.

Get your bad boy fix!The Bad Boy’s Guilt

Nicole trusted Wyatt with her heart once. She won’t make the same mistake twice.

A broken-down car destroys Nicole DeMonde’s plan to be cool and self-sufficient when she returns to her hometown for her brother’s wedding. The cop who comes to her rescue is none other than local hottie Wyatt Truman, who slept with her then dumped her when they were teens. She has no choice but to accept his help. However, she knows better than to trust him with her heart twice.

Wyatt is determined to earn Nicole’s forgiveness and make amends for his callous past. Once he lays eyes on her, he can’t help wanting more than forgiveness. In fact, his intentions are starting to bear a suspicious resemblance to the forever variety.

If she can’t avoid Wyatt, a one-night stand might be just the thing Nicole needs to work him out of her system. Or will her recovery plan destroy her heart once and for all?


“So you protect people. Interesting.” She glided into the car, her skirt riding dangerously high up her thighs. “Who’s going to protect me from you?”

Ouch. And he completely deserved the zinger. He wrenched his gaze from her sweet, smooth legs. “Looks to me like you can protect yourself just fine, but if you’re worried about me, I can call someone else to watch over you.”

“The only thing I’m worried about is if I have to refer to you as my brother-in-law after this wedding.”

“Please don’t.” He winced as he closed the door.

After checking over her disabled vehicle, he hustled to the driver’s side of his car. While he settled in the seat, Nicole took out her cell phone and held it at arm’s length, selfie-style.

“What are you doing?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Updating my Facebook status. I’ll send you a friend request, and you can check it out. My life is an open book, Officer.”

Cripes. First, she wanted to call him her brother. Now they were going to be Facebook friends. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He wouldn’t be comfortable again until she exited the city limits and preferably the state, as well. In fact, he was growing more uncomfortable by the minute, specifically in the crotch of his uniform.

“What are your plans until the rehearsal?” he asked. “Do you want to drive by your dad’s house again? Maybe work up the nerve to ring the doorbell?”

In the mirror, her face flushed. “I have no intention of ringing the doorbell, not because I’m a coward but because he treated his family like crap, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”

“Sorry. None of my business.” But he couldn’t help adding, “You know he’s coming to the rehearsal tonight and you’ll see him there?”

“Unfortunately. I can’t avoid running into people I don’t want to see. It’s the reason I never came back to Regret Hollow and still wouldn’t have if my brother hadn’t decided to hold the most important event of his life here.”

He got the message. Her dad wasn’t the only person she’d have preferred to avoid. Arriving at his house, he backed the squad car into the driveway parallel to his truck. As he rounded the car to let her out, he flipped on his phone and accepted her friend request. Thumbing over to her profile, he pulled open the door.

As she stepped onto the driveway, he read aloud the status above her picture. “Hellish meeting, flight delay, defective rental, and now I’m riding in the back of a squad car. Murphy’s Law is biting my ass today.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “If I bite your ass, you’ll find it a hell of a lot more enjoyable than with that Murphy fellow.”

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’re going to have to do a hell of a lot more ass kissing before you get the chance to nibble on anything of mine.”

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Welcome to Regret HollowSara Daniel writes what she loves to read—irresistible romance, from sweet to steamy and everything in between. She grew up in a small town and was once a landlord of two uninvited squirrels. She has no regrets about turning her back on her accounting degree to write romance, but she deeply regrets her inability to keep track of her car keys. Subscribe to Sara’s newsletter: Visit her website:


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