Good Girls Don't - By Kelley St. John


Monumental thanks to my agent, Caren Johnson, who found the perfect home at Warner for Good Girls Don’t.

Extreme thanks to Beth de Guzman for noticing my work, and to my editor, Devi Pillai, for saying the words that make any writer’s heart stand still: “I love this book!”

A sincere thanks to Diane Luger for a cover that absolutely rocks.

And last, but not least, my unending gratitude to Susan Goggins. You urged me to share my writing with the world and never doubted I would achieve my goal. I owe this dream’s fruition to you.


Digging through her briefcase, Colette Campbell snagged her cellular phone in one hand and her contact’s information sheet in the other, while her sister rummaged through her green glitter-embellished duffel bag to grab a bright pink, misshaped vibrator. Both girls were notorious for bringing their work home; tonight was no exception.

“Amy, what the heck is that for?” Colette eyed the odd curve at the end of the oversized contraption. In her opinion, Amy’s current employer had taken its passion line to the extreme, with the most popular products designed by her imaginative sister. But they were shooting for the next must-have sex toy. And Colette had to admit several of Amy’s creations were already must-haves for her own bedroom.

Too bad they were the ones meant for singles.

“This baby will put Adventurous Accessories over the top,” Amy said, grinning with unabashed pride. She made the same claim with each of her toys, though Colette chose not to point that out.

At merely twenty-two, Amy Campbell already had a mind for business. Coupled with an affinity for the intricacies of sex, which she’d obviously acquired from their mother, Amy had a hot combination for today’s boudoir market. Consequently, she fully intended for one of her personally designed products to become the next Jack Rabbit.

Like practically every other female in America, Colette had watched Kim Cattrall’s Samantha lose her senses over the unique vibrator on Sex and the City. And, like practically every other female in America, she’d wasted no time purchasing a set of talented rabbit ears of her own.

Thank God. Lord knows that battery-operated bunny helped her numerous times when Jeff hadn’t got the job done. At least she had one “energize-her” in the apartment during her six months dating Mr. Perfect.

“So what does it do?” Colette asked, accustomed to Amy’s tendency of bringing her sex trinkets home to show off her latest idea.

While Amy played Vanna, running a finger down the smooth length of the toy, Colette scanned her client’s data sheet. My Alibi’s customers were extremely specific regarding when she should make calls. In this case, the woman wanted a message left while the contact was gone. A typical request. For some reason, the lie seemed more believable when heard on an answering machine.

Colette’s eyes ventured to the referral line on the bottom of the front page. “Amy?”

“Yeah?” Amy said, still grinning at the toy.

“What’s up with this?” She pointed to the name scribbled across the page. “Referred by Amy Campbell?” Colette read the annotation made by the My Alibi sales associate.

Client specifically requested Colette Campbell as her sales representative.

“Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you,” Amy said, scooting closer to Colette on the couch. She pointed to the data sheet. “That’s a friend of mine. She needed a way to spend a week with her boyfriend, and I told her about My Alibi.”

“You’re helping your friend cheat on her husband?” Colette didn’t like lying for a living, and she didn’t plan to do it much longer, only until she had enough money to start her boutique. “I thought you agreed that what these people do isn’t right.”

“I know it isn’t, but Erika isn’t lying to a husband.”

Colette’s attention moved back to the information sheet, specifically the “Relationship to Client” line. “Her uncle?”

“She’s found the love of her life, but she doesn’t think her uncle will approve,” Amy explained, shrugging as though this were no big deal. “She needs an alibi for a week to spend some alone time with Butch and see if he really is the one.”

“Why does she have to lie to her uncle to spend a week with her boyfriend?” Colette didn’t like the sound of this. What was Amy getting her into?

“He’s her guardian, and he’s a bit overprotective,” Amy explained; then, at Colette’s raised brows, she continued, “Listen. I knew you wouldn’t help on your own, so I had her go through My Alibi. That way it’s merely another