No More Mr. Nice Guy

By: Amy Andrews

He’s done playing the nice guy…

Newly single school counselor Josie Butler just made herself a Sexy To-Do list (featuring Bad Boys only). To her mortification, her best friend's gorgeous older brother Mack finds it…and laughs. But when Josie goes looking for some sexy fun, Mack's nice guy side turns all hot bad-assery, and suddenly she's pinned against an alley wall. Hottest. Sex. Ever.

Veterinarian Mack Kennedy can't believe Josie wants to ditch her sweet, girl-next-door lifestyle. Even worse, that she'd consider doing it with anyone but him. When she leaves for London they'll go back to being 'just friends' but until then, he's going to show her just how bad nice guys can be.

And it's the perfect plan, as long as no one finds out... and no one falls in love.

Amy Andrews

To my best friend Leah who has never gotten me drunk and made me write a sex list but would if she felt I needed it. Let’s grow old together, babe.

Chapter One

Mack Kennedy hadn’t been expecting to find a body on the couch when he’d plunked the large cage on the coffee table, but a quick glance at a pitcher with something pink, dried, and frothy coating the insides, and the alcohol bottles in varying states of use strewn around the kitchen bench, told him he should have.


After splitting with her long-term boyfriend a week ago, he and Sal had been expecting her, but even if they hadn’t¸ he’d know that red hair anywhere.

She was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt that had ridden up at the back a little and exposed a glimpse of milky skin. A strange spike of awareness sliced through him, and he blinked.


When was the last time he’d felt any kind of spike, especially over something as insignificant as a peek of flesh?

Josie’s flesh for that matter. Josie, who he’d known forever. Josie, his sister’s best friend.

For fuck’s sake, he’d seen her in a bikini countless times and never thought twice about it.

Maybe Sal was right. Maybe he did need to get back on the bike.

He glanced at the discarded cocktail glass on the nearby table and knew one thing for certain—Josie was going to need coffee. He looked down at Charlie, the male Cashmere Lop rabbit, who was off his food and liked anything female. He was looking at Josie, his little gray nose twitching. Randy little bugger.

“Don’t you get any ideas,” Mack said as he headed for the kitchen.

Mack heard the groan as he took his first sip of coffee and smiled. He reached for a mug on the nearby stand. “Morning, Anne with an E.”

Another groan. “Shut up, Gilbert.”

He chuckled at the familiar patter and poured her coffee, making it sweet and milky, just the way she liked it.

Just like that milky bit of flesh he’d seen earlier.

“There’s a rabbit staring at me,” she said.

“Yes,” Mack said, pleased for the distraction as he stirred the coffee. “One of the hazards of living above the practice. You should have been here a few days ago. We were bottle-feeding a joey kangaroo. That’s Charlie.” He indicated the rabbit with a nod of his head. “He likes girls.”

There was a snort and then a, “I bet he does,” and then she was upright.

Mack smiled as he carried the mug over to the couch. “A bit touchy this morning, Carrots. Head hurt?”

Her hair was as far from carrot-colored as hair could possibly be. It was a deep, rich red. Like garnets and dark chili chocolate and a bunch of museum paintings by old, dead white guys. But the joke never grew old.

“You know you’re like the only male I’ve ever met that’s read Anne of Green Gables, right?”

Mack placed her mug on the coffee table and made some room for himself beside her. “I like to be in touch with my feminine side.”

He watched as she shut her eyes and stretched her neck. Hair fell in disarray all around her head. She’d obviously had it in some kind of fashion, but it hadn’t survived a night on the couch very well. It was half up and half down, chunky tendrils teasing her nape and framing her face, bangs plastered haphazardly across her forehead.

Smudges of dark eyeliner and clumps of mascara decorated long lashes. “You do have your own bedroom, remember.”

“Must have fallen asleep,” she muttered, rubbing her temple.