Good To Be Bad (Good Love #3) - Lili Valente Page 0,1

of Brooklyn.

So, pie is the plan, and that suits me just fine.

Until the night I hear the delicious, toe-tingling, knee weakening voice of my dream man.

What’s the harm in giving in for just one night?

His Prologue


* * *

Timing, as they say, is everything.

Money, for instance—you have to know when to buy and when to sell in order to reap financial rewards.

Check. Been there, done that. Have the coin to prove it.

Scones are the same—let them bake too long and you’ll turn your mum’s fantastic family recipe into charcoal briquettes; too soon and you’ve got a soggy pile of dough.

This too, is in the bag. Scones are my jam…though I prefer them with clotted cream.

Then, there’s sex.

Timing is everything in the bedroom. A man needs to know precisely the right moment to kiss a woman’s neck and drive her wild, to glide his hand along her waist so she shivers, to tease her with his lips until she’s begging for a kiss. He needs to know when to undress her slowly and seductively, and when the night calls for ripping panties and tearing at shirts.

Timing is learning to listen to her needs, her wants, her wishes, so he can make her writhe with pleasure so sweet it’s almost painful. And don’t even get me started on orgasms. Those precious, life-bestowing detonations of pleasure require the precision of an atomic clock.

You have to know exactly when to thrust harder and deeper. When to grind and when to glide. When to lick, touch, and stroke.

You only get out of something what you put into it, so when it comes to making sure my lover’s satisfied, I leave it all on the field. I’m a gentleman, at least in that regard, and a gentleman always makes sure a lady comes first.

And hard.

And often.

But timing isn’t only paramount in the bedroom, it’s critical with professional choices, as well. You must take the proper steps at the proper time to ensure success.

And success will be mine. Again. But this time, on my terms.

I stayed the course when I was younger. When I graduated from university, I did what was expected, plugging away in the family business. But when I hit my goals, it was time to pivot.

And pivot I did, from London to New York City.

It might seem a huge risk to up and move across the pond, but I’ve been prepping for years. Everything is in place, and now the stars have aligned and the timing is right. I’m in New York, ready to execute my precisely laid plans.

And then a gorgeous, brilliant, Rubik’s-Cube-wielding redhead sashays into my life. There’s no other way to describe the way this woman moves—like life’s a dance and she’s relishing every minute of it.

Too bad it turns out she’s the last woman I should be dancing—or anything else—with.

Timing is everything. And this timing is about to go tits up.



The new cases were installed today, and they look amazing.

The pie specials are prepped for tomorrow and Calliope is coming in early to start the ovens so I can sleep in.

The money is counted, the shop is spotless, and all is right with the world.

I pat the counter and blow a kiss to Sweetie Pies as I go. “Love you, darling," I say, dragging down the metal gate in front of the door and locking up for the night.

As I head down the sidewalk, I remind myself of all the good things in life. It’s a nightly ritual I’ve done since I was a little girl.

I have my friends. My brother, Harrison. My gram. And the most fantastic business and customers in the entire world.

And it’s party time!

I can’t remember the last time I went to a party. Or the last time I stayed out past ten o’clock. Much like a real offspring, my bakery baby requires certain sacrifices. I’m out of bed at five most mornings and up to my elbows in dough by five fifteen. I moved to an apartment a two-minute walk from Sweetie Pies in order to be closer to my darling girl. I love being able to stick my head out my kitchen window and see her sitting safely there on the corner, looking adorable and delicious.

Ruby teases me about being a helicopter pie shop parent, but I just feel better when the things and people I love are close.

If I had my way, Harrison and Gram would move into the apartment above mine and Ruby and her true love, Jesse, would move into the empty