Turn Me Bad

You can read Turn Me Bad free below.

Blurb:

A bad boy biker, interracial romance novel. Violet has no time for love. But a simple visit to a bar with her friends was all it took for fate to intervene and introduce her to the man who would turn her world upside down! Never in her life did she expect to fall for someone like model and bad boy biker, Ben!

But love blossoms as she is swept up in his fast-paced biker world, filled with thrilling motorcycle rides, and wild, passionate nights! Yet with her career on the line, Violet must make a heart-wrenching decision…

It’s either her job, or Ben! Will they be forced to break things off completely? Or can they find a way to unite their two very different worlds? Find out in this biker, BWWM bad boy romance book by Shauna Williams.

Chapter 1

Shooting the commercial had hit an impromptu pause, leaving Benjamin standing in the middle of the studio with his hands on his hips and feeling like a mannequin.

A member of the crew had made a side joke about blonde hair on a man going out of fashion because of Donald Trump and the subject had drawn the director’s attention. Consequently, a political discussion had burst forth, which had led to banter all round the set, and, because the director had the floor, he was allowed to hold back proceedings for as long as he felt like being distracted.

Benjamin noted that he wasn’t involved in any of the banter, even though it was his blonde hair that had led to the comment. As the crew had been friendly enough with him, he knew they were not being cliquey, rather they thought the subject matter a little above the brainpower of a pretty model like him.

In a way, this came with the territory. People thought him lacking in any intellectual depth, and, he would be honest, the presumption offered both advantages and disadvantages. Certainly, he was paid too well to lose any sleep over it, but he had noticed a change, however subtle, in his attitude towards this stereotype over recent months. There was no reason you couldn’t be good-looking and have a brain too; if you need a rocket scientist’s qualifications to be clever then there is no help for most of us. As a result, he had started to play a little game for his own amusement. Setting himself a challenge of seeing if he could subvert people’s expectations of him – if just so he could enjoy the bemused looks on their faces.

“My father’s Canadian,” the director went on, his ego swelled by being the center of attention. “I’ve been thinking – if Trump becomes President – I might actually start calling myself Canadian, that’s how embarrassed I’d be at having him in charge.”

By this point Benjamin had been waiting for the opportunity to interject and saw his chance.

“It’s all because of the popular resentment of the masses against an elite who has enjoyed the fruits of globalization,” he announced, drily.

Almost as one, each pair of eyes in the studio then turned his way, as much in surprise of his having said anything as to listen and take in his words. There was a lengthy pause before the director responded with an unconvincing laugh of agreement, then decided they should get back to completing the shoot.

Benjamin was accustomed to pulling vacant expressions – almost 90 percent of his work demanded it – but the more observant would have noticed a faint smirk settle momentarily on his features. Confusion is surely one of the best sources of humor, even if he was the only one who got the joke. Seeing uncertainty written all over their faces as they tried to figure out what had inspired the comment in him was priceless. At the same time, his point was deliberately unengaging and so there was nothing they could offer in response, killing their debate right when it was in full flow.

In truth, Benjamin was only repeating something he’d seen as part of a headline somewhere. He wasn’t that bothered about political debate, but being considered as a being of lesser intelligence had started to change him. What he couldn’t figure out was why. None of it used to concern him.

Thanks, most likely, to his interruption, the day’s shoot finished on time. He had been asked to model for one of the hottest clothes brands around – a $250 an hour shoot – which mostly involved standing in front of a green screen as if he was staring thoughtfully at the horizon. After the various poses were covered, very few of which would actually make the edit, there would be a shot of him throwing a jacket over his shoulder and walking off as if into the sunset. Or towards a group of babes. Then they would go through the whole procedure again with another outfit.

Though he would be the center of attention, Benjamin had no idea what the commercial would look like when it was all put together. It was typical of those in control to give away very little information and experience had led him to suspect that most directors can’t really decide what they want until they see what they have in the editing suite. It had been awhile since the details interested him, therefore, and so he was used to functioning in a way that was entirely divorced from proceedings. That was despite knowing how much his type of work interested those who would never be able to work in such an industry. Certainly, if he ever bumped into an old school friend they were always bursting with a hundred questions, even the ones that then went ahead and badmouthed him afterwards for thinking he was better than everyone.

There was presumption everywhere.

Then again, it had largely been good to be a model. And by “good,” you could really say ”bad,” depending on where you draw the line between the two.

Mixing in the circles he did and with the aura his profession gave him, Benjamin found that doors opened very easily. Whether to post catwalk soirees, celebrity functions, or penthouse suite parties, he had taken advantage of all that was offered as well as being taken advantage of. “Fancy a drink” was often as much effort as was needed to get another model into bed, but his reach had also extended a lot further. There were some famous Hollywood names whose wives he had slept with; a factor that did not stop the married couple appearing arm-in-arm on the red carpet the next day and smiling for the cameras as if they had a perfect marriage.

Los Angeles is promiscuous from top to bottom, except those at the top know how to keep it all behind closed doors. He had enjoyed being a dirty little secret, and, just as he kept a straight face for the shoot, he continued to give nothing away even when socializing with some producer whose wife twenty years younger had slipped into his hotel room to make a guilty pleasure of him.

Benjamin had never given much thought as to whether he should; other people’s marriages were not his business. Something was hanging over him, however, as he left the shoot that day. Nothing as gloomy as a cloud, but his days had become a little unremarkable in terms of what he was taking from them. Parties, sexual liaisons, and all the latest new fashions for free were all very well, but he had begun to wonder what the next new challenges in life would be and where to seek them. Surely there was something more than all of this. Of that he was certain, but less certain of how to go about looking for it. There wasn’t any advice that could be sought to lead him to a destination that did not have a name or purpose.

The artificialness of his surroundings were starting to annoy him, especially on days like today when there had been such a lack of connection with those around him. He had to admit it; he didn’t know himself very well.

Thinking he would have some quiet time in the evening to consider what the answer was, Benjamin was even trying to resist an invite for free drinks at the hotel when his cell phone buzzed. It was his agent Max calling, which usually meant more work.

“Hi, Max!”

”Hello, Benjamin!” Max replied, as was typical, getting straight to the point. “I understand that your calendar is free for tomorrow.”

“If you say so,“ Benjamin replied, hardly sure himself having gotten used to not looking ahead. Max largely organized everything for him anyway.

“Well, not anymore,“ came the response. ”I just took a call from some guys shooting a jeans commercial. Actually, it’s a pretty similar setup to what you’ve been doing this week, except they’re filming this one outdoors.”

”Sunset Beach then?”