Blog Tour: Bad Judgment by Meghan March

Author: Meghan March
Reading Level: New Adult
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Released: August 22, 2016

He’s so arrogant.

She’s so self-righteous.

I can’t stand him.

I want her.

He’s a distraction I don’t need.

She’ll say yes eventually because I’m not giving up.

Justine Porter is stuck between a rock and a stripper pole. She lost her law school scholarship, which means she has two choices to keep her life on track: strip for her tuition or tutor the most distractingly sexy guy in her class—the one she’s been turning down for two years straight. It should be an easy choice, but tutoring Ryker Grant could derail her plans to graduate with honors faster than two-for-one night at the Déjà Vu. Then again, topless has never really been her color.

She could take the easy road, just this once . . . but the deal has enough loopholes to trip anyone up.

Who knew they taught bad judgment in law school?

The Story:  Bad Judgment starts with Justine feeling backed in a corner and seriously contemplating striping for a living to pay for her education.  She loses her scholarship so she is forced to come up with a new plan of action.  Ryker has had his eye on Justine since he first met her and never gives up his pursuit, even after countless rejections.

The Likes:  I loved this book!!  This is the second book I have read by Meghan March and she is quickly becoming a favorite.  When I read my first Meghan March book a month ago, I was blown away and wanted to share her with THE WORLD because her writing is THAT GOOD.  You are hooked from the very beginning!!  Her writing has all the elements to make a story amazing:  SEX appeal, likable characters, swoon worthy men, CHEMISTRYYYY, humor, and just the write amount of drama.

From the very first paragraph with Merica and Justine talking about Ryker's "dick print", I became obsessed with this book.  I am a big fan of Justine's.  I love her strength and perseverance to succeed no matter what the cost.  Despite the INSANE chemistry and attraction between her and Ryker, she doesn't just instantly jump in the bed with him which I love.  She focuses on what's important first, her education, which is a refreshing thing to see in the romance world.  Ryker, holy crap, he is HOT HOT HOT.  I love his persistence.  He will not give up on his pursuit of Justine.  I love his filthy mouth!!  I also really loved Justine's best friend Merica.  She was hilarious and had a freaking awesome personality.

The Dislikes:  I loved absolutely everything about this book except how it ended.  I won't go into details to prevent spoilers but I felt there were some unnecessary things added that didn't need to be for the story to be amazing.  It doesn't change the fact that I LOVED the story, it just makes the rating slightly less in my opinion.

The Rating:  I give this book 4.5 stars because I couldn't put it down.  I was able to finish it quickly in one sitting.  It was just such a fun read!  Meghan March definitely delivered with this book.  GO ONE CLICK IT NOW!

Get your one-click finger ready! 

Here's what early readers are saying about Bad Judgment: 

“My final ruling is that Bad Judgment is Meghan March’s best work yet.”—USA Today bestselling author T.M. Frazier

"We absolutely couldn't get enough of this fresh storyline, the insanely combustible steam and a gripping ending you will NOT see coming!" —The Rockstars of Romance

“Meghan March’s writing is so addictive. From the very first page she sucks you in, and that’s exactly what happened with Bad Judgment. It was sexy, angsty, and consuming. Another fantastic read from Meghan. PS, thanks for keeping me up late at night.” —Author Meghan Quinn

I can't wait to hear what you think! Keep scrolling for a sneak peek at the beginning.

 Chapter 1


“Becca saw Ryker at the gym last night and he was wearing these shorts, and let’s just say she said his dick print looked massive. Cock-a-licious, to quote her properly.”

I drop my overstuffed chicken burrito on the metal pie plate, and the tortilla splits down the side. Perfect. When I snap my attention to my best friend, Merica’s face is the picture of innocence. The devil dancing in her gray eyes is the only thing that gives away her dirty thoughts.

“Really? Are you trying to kill my appetite on purpose?” Because I’m not interested in anything that has to do with Ryker Grant, or his penis. No, really, I’m not.

Merica’s blond brows wing up toward her hairline in a what could you possibly mean expression. She gestures to me with her fork. “Look, if a sexy-as-hell guy had been hitting on me for two years, I’d be pretty damn interested now that I have some inside info about what he’s packing.”

The last thing I want to hear about is one of our mutual friends staring at the crotch area of Ryker Grant’s shorts at the gym, trying to gauge the size of his package by the imprint it leaves. Who made up the term dick print anyway?

“Not. Interested.” I enunciate each word clearly as I stare down at my burrito.

I’m in law school to study, kick ass, and graduate with honors. For ten years, I’ve been pushing toward this goal. Which means I don’t have time for distractions, and Ryker Grant would be the biggest distraction of all. While he might be tall, sexy, and mouth-wateringly gorgeous, he’s also got a lock on the crown for the kingdom of Entitled Douche Bag.

I reach down to retrieve my busted burrito, but pause before wrapping my fingers around it. Before today, I would have said nothing could put me off the chicken, rice, beans, pico, and avocado goodness before me, but I would have been wrong. Now I can’t look at it without phallic thoughts running through my head.

Hearing about Ryker Grant’s dick print has officially thrown me off my game. On top of being a Grade-A jerk, he’s stupid hot. As in, the kind of hot that makes smart girls stupid. Which is why I’ve been turning him down since our first week of law school.

No time for distractions.

It’s not like Ryker has been crying into his beer over my rejections. He’s been seen with plenty of girls in our law school class in the early hours of the morning at the bars along Red River Avenue. I absolutely and unequivocally refuse to admit that I might have watched him out of the corner of my eye on the rare occasions I let Merica drag me out for a night.

“I’m just saying that even I’d consider taking a ride on that stallion if I didn’t already have my own stud. Come on, Jus. It might be good for you to de-stress a little.” She leans closer, pressing both elbows on the metal table between us. “Plus, you’ve got to confirm the dick-print rumors for womankind.”

Wanting to do anything I can to stop this conversation before I get some kind of terrible idea in my head, I wrap my hands around the burrito and lift it to my lips. Or at least, I try. Stalling out midair, all I can picture is this supposedly massive dick Ryker is packing in his shorts heading for my mouth.

And . . . nope. Operation: Stuff My Face to End Conversation fails. I can’t be thinking thoughts like that. I’ve got finals coming up, and then it’s off to my legal aid job for the summer to make an actual difference in people’s lives.

That’s what matters—making a difference. That’s why I’m studying more hours each week than most people put in at a full-time job. I’m not here to fantasize about the hottest guy I’ve ever met.

I drop the burrito on my plate again and consider it a total loss. I can’t be wrapping my lips around anything that makes me think of Ryker Grant’s penis. Bad. Plan.

I reach for a brown paper napkin to wipe my hands, determined to get my mind back on track. Crumpling the napkin into a ball, I meet my friend’s laughing gaze.

“Stop. Seriously. You know I’m not going there. Never gonna happen.”

“But you want to. You can deny it all you want, but we both know the struggle to not think about his equipment is real.”

I toss the balled-up napkin at her head, and Merica bats it away one-handed as she shovels more of her burrito bowl into her mouth. You’d never know from her napkin-defense skills that she’s one of the most uncoordinated people I’ve ever met.

First day of law school orientation as we were filing into the amphitheater-style auditorium, she tripped going up the stairs. Somehow her flailing hands reached me first and we both crashed to the floor in front of three hundred people. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but Merica popped right back up and took a bow. Her positivity is infectious, and we’ve been best friends ever since.

She drops her fork and pushes the bowl away. “Come on, you know you want to. He can be your reward for kicking ass on finals!”

I rub a hand across my face. “My reward for kicking ass on finals will be getting the grades I need to keep my scholarship. That’s all that matters right now—not Ryker’s supposedly massive dick.”

My scholarship is riding on my GPA staying above a 3.75, and without it, I won’t be able to finish school. The sale of Gramps’s small house left me enough to cover most of my living expenses and buy books. That’s what he told me to do with it, because this was his dream for me too. He wanted me to make a difference, just like the legal aid lawyer who helped him fight for custody of me when my deadbeat parents tried to suck me deeper into their cons. So here I am, and I’m going to make this dream come true for both of us.

“You know my only other choice is to ask Kristy Horner about Ryker, and I’m not doing it. She takes up two parking spots in the garage with her BMW, even when she sees you coming and knows there are no other spots left. Do you know how many times I’ve been late to class because she’s a bitch?”

“Kristy being a bitch isn’t a new development, but you’re still not getting that info from me. Sorry, babe. You’re going to have to live with the mystery.”

Merica leans back in her chair, releasing an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible. I’ve been getting the same dick for two years, and I need to live vicariously through my friends to get the variety I’m missing. You need to take one for the team here, hottie.”

I choke on the sip of water I’m taking and lower the cup to the table quickly enough to have it sloshing over the sides.

“Really? Take one for the team? Pun much?”

Merica’s smile is quick and bright. “You know you want it. How long has it been anyway? I mean, your va-jay-jay is probably waving a distress flag because it thinks you’ve forgotten about it.”

She’s not wrong, but I’m also not going there.

“Ryker and me? Never going to happen.”

“Famous last words.” Merica stands and tosses me a cheesy wink.

Chapter 2


Two weeks later

“Can I get you another?” The bartender at Ziggy’s leans forward as I take up space on a bar stool, playing with my straw and my empty drink.

I scan the room for Merica, wondering how she can possibly take seven years to go to the bathroom, before I jerk my gaze back to his face. His shoulders stretch his tight black T-shirt as he stares at me.

I’ve been watching him for the last five minutes as he’s been reaching, leaning, pouring, and doing other bartender-y things. I know, there are actual verbs for those things, but right now I’m running on a strong mixture of vanilla vodka and root beer, and I used up all my actual smart words on my finals. Which are finally done. Thank God.

And now the bartender is staring at me, waiting for an answer.

Crap. I have to respond. Get with it, Justine. Do I really need another drink? What would it hurt? I’m celebrating, after all. Second year of law school, in the books.

“Sure. One more. That’d be good.” My words don’t sound slurred, thankfully. Winning.

“Root beer and vanilla vodka, right?”

He remembers my drink?

I nod, ignoring the fact that I probably look like a bobblehead. “That’s right. Thanks.”

“I haven’t seen you around much,” he says as he turns to grab the liquor and then reaches for the soda gun. “You here by yourself or with friends?”

“Friends.” I clear my throat as if to dislodge the words. “We’re celebrating our last finals being over.”

I scan the packed barroom again for Merica, but don’t see her blond head through the crowd of students. I’m a failure when it comes to flirting and making small talk, and I can always count on her to rescue me from my own awkwardness.

The bartender slides the glass across the bar on a cocktail napkin. “This one’s on me then. Congratulations on knocking out your exams.”

Wait, what?

Fumbling for the cash I shoved into my pocket, I fish out a few bills. “You really don’t need to do that.”

He holds up a hand. “I insist. You deserve it.” His lips curve up into the kind of smile that would ensure he wouldn’t have to leave the bar alone any night of the week. Messy blond hair falls over his forehead and curls around his ears.

I open my mouth to thank him for the gesture when an arm slides around my shoulder and a bill is slapped down on the bar in front of me.

“I got this one. It’s a rare day when my girl goes anywhere but the library or class. You sure you don’t want something more festive, baby? This deserves its own celebration.”

Heat burns across my cheeks as the bartender narrows his eyes on Ryker’s possessive touch. The bartender lifts his chin at Ryker.

“Grant. Where’s your flavor of the week?”

I want to thank the bartender for not automatically assuming I’m Ryker Grant’s flavor of the week, but Ryker pulls me closer into his side. Now it’s not just my cheeks heating, but every point of contact between us. Bad Justine. This is why I avoid him. Stupid hot, I remind myself.

“You should watch how you talk about women, Caruthers. They don’t like to be called flavor of the week.”

I’m surprised Ryker knows the bartender, but then again, I’m sure he spends way more time here than I do.

“They probably prefer to be treated better than you treat them,” Caruthers says, pushing Ryker’s money back across the bar. “Her drink is on the house. I don’t want your money.”

As I duck out from under Ryker’s arm, I block out how amazing he smells under those layers of entitlement. So freaking good. It’s just because I’m drunk. That’s the only reason. I need to find Merica and get out of here before I do something stupid.

I grab my drink and step away from the danger zone surrounding Ryker.

“I’ll just get out of here so you guys can whip ’em out and measure them.” Forcing myself not to drop my gaze to Ryker’s crotch to gauge the truthfulness of the dick-print rumor for myself, I drop a ten on the bar. My pride won’t let either of them buy me a drink.

“I need to get back to my friends,” I toss out as I walk away, impressed at how steady I am on the heels Merica forced me to wear with my short black skirt and borrowed black low-cut top. Not my normal outfit choice at all, but how often do you get to celebrate finishing your second year of law school?

Cocky about how well I’m doing on my balance, I sip my drink—and catch a toe on the lip of the stairs. My entire body pitches forward and a vision of the drink flying everywhere as I land on my face flashes before my eyes. At least Merica won’t judge.

Before even a drop spills over the side, an arm wraps around me and a hand plucks the drink from my grip.

“Are you in such a hurry to get away from me that you’d rather cause a scene?”

Ryker. His deep voice and scent of all man mixed with off-limits for a good reason identify him immediately. He maneuvers us over to an empty booth as my heart hammers, and I plop down onto the maroon vinyl cushion.

Wrapping both hands around the edge of the table, I suck in a breath. Obviously, I don’t need any more to drink, but I unclench one hand to reach for my cocktail anyway and chug a few gulps to steady my nerves. It’s not until I put the glass down that I notice the crumpled ten on the table next to it.

“You okay?”

My gaze darts up to his brilliantly blue eyes as he towers over me. “What is that for?”

“You shouldn’t be buying your own drinks.” He says it like this is some obvious piece of information of which I should be well aware.

“I’m not letting you buy them.” Needing to extricate myself from this situation, I scoot out to the edge of the booth and stand.

But Ryker doesn’t step back like I expect him to, and my boobs press against his chest as soon as I’m vertical.

My nipples peak with interest at the contact. Traitors. I have to force myself not to lean into him. He’s solid. Hard. Man. I freeze for a beat, hoping he’ll step back, but he doesn’t.

“Excuse me.” My words are a hushed whisper. I need to step back. Move. Something. I have to stop touching him.

Ryker’s gaze drops to my cleavage, and I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but stare at his lowered eyes and wonder if he’s feeling what I’m feeling.

It doesn’t matter. No distractions allowed.

Several agonizingly long seconds pass before his gaze travels up to meet mine.

“You’re not going back to that bartender. Your money is no good with him. He wouldn’t even let me pay for the drink. So quit worrying about it.”

An odd sense of relief washes over me that Ryker didn’t pay for my drink, and I sit back down, desperate to remove all points of contact between us before I do something stupid like press against him harder and let my hands roam.

Why have I gone so long without any physical contact? I will my nipples to stand down. Bad nipples. Without any padding in my bra, I’m putting on way too much of a show. At least I’m not thinking about the dick print anymore. Crap. I’m eye level with his crotch since he’s still standing, so of course my gaze lands right on it.

Oh. Holy. Hell. I can see it. The outline against his jeans. The bulge. Does he not wear underwear? Is it getting bigger? Oh my God, is that because of me?

Ryker’s chest lifts and lowers with a deep breath, and I snap my eyes up to his.

Mortification sweeps in as Ryker stares down at me, those icy blue eyes blazing with heat. He knows exactly what I was looking at.

“So, what’s it going to take, Justine?”

I ignore the question and wrap my hand around my drink. Sucking down the last of it, I buy time to figure out how to get myself out of this situation. This is why I avoid him.

Once my glass holds nothing but ice, Ryker plucks it from my grip and sets it on the table.

“What’s it going to take?” he asks again.

“Wh—what are you talking about?” My stutter is smoothed by the liquor I’ve consumed.

“You. What’s it going to take for you to say yes to me? You’re hell on my ego, but I don’t give a shit about that. I want my shot. What’s it going to take?”

Oh no. This isn’t happening. I cobble together an excuse.

“I can’t. I’m busy. I have to keep up my grades.”

“School’s out, babe. Try again.”

I shake my head, which is already fuzzy from more alcohol than I’ve had in months.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ve got a job up north for the summer at Legal Aid.”

He studies me for a beat as if deciding whether I’m feeding him a line of bull. I must pass, because he nods. “When you come back, we’re going out.”

Persistence. Ryker has it in spades, and the combination of the alcohol and my body’s traitorous reactions are wearing me down. But nothing can change the fact that I don’t have time for the distraction. Not now, not next year.

“It’s not a good idea. School is my only focus.”

He lowers himself down on the bench beside me, and instinctively I slide over to put some space between us. I don’t need more contact to melt away the last of my resistance.

“I need to go find my friend. She’s probably waiting for me to leave.”

“Give me five minutes, and I’ll convince you.”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. The words float in my head as I scoot around the U-shaped booth to slide out the other side. With that determined look in his blue eyes and my guard down, there’s no telling what he could talk me into in thirty seconds, let alone five minutes.

“I have to go.” I keep my tone firm.

Ryker leans back in the booth and crosses both arms over his broad chest. “I think you’re scared of me.”

Pushing to my feet, I grab the edge of the table to steady myself on Merica’s heels. “Excuse me?”

“You’re scared. Afraid you might actually want what I want, and that’s why you keep shooting me down.”

A forced laugh escapes my lips, and something—probably the alcohol—flips my filter to the off position. “Are you serious? Come on, we both know that you just haven’t given up yet because I’m the only girl who’s ever said no to you.” I gesture to the empty glass on the table. “I might be a few drinks in, but even I get you’re all about the chase. If I said yes, you’d lose interest within days.”


“Doesn’t matter. The answer is still no.” And with that I stride away, making an exit that doesn’t include me falling on my face. Win.

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