From the desk of Katie Lane

Dear Reader,

There’s something about a bad boy that’s irresistible, something about a man who lives on the edge and plays by his own rules. And whether it was the time you caught the teenage rebel checking you out in your new Christmas sweater—or the time the tatted biker sent you a blatantly sexual look as he cruised by on his custom bike—a run-in with a bad boy is like taking a ride on the world’s biggest roller coaster; long after the ride’s over, you’re still shaky, breathless, and begging for more.

No doubt a portion of the blame lies with our mothers. (It’s so easy to blame Mom.) Maternal warnings always include the things that turn out to be the most fun—wild parties, fast cars, and naughty boys. (All of which got me in plenty of trouble.) But I think most of our infatuation has to do with our desire to take a break from being the perfect daughter, the hardworking employee, the dependable wife, and the super mom. For one brief moment, we want to release our inner bad girl and jerk up that sweater Aunt Sally gave us and flash some cleavage. Or hop on that throbbing piece of machinery and take a ride on the wild side.

Evenif it’s only in our fantasies—or possibly a steamy romance novel—we want to throw caution to the wind and fearlessly proclaim…

MAKE MINE A BAD BOY!