Country music's bad boy, Boone Thrasher, takes center stage in USA Today best-selling author Meghan March's brand new stand-alone Real Dirty Duet!

Two books together in one bundle: Real Good Man and Real Good Love. Banner Regent is smart, funny, and she’s so far out of my league, she might as well be royalty. I’m a mechanic from Kentucky. She’s a New York City party girl. We were never supposed to meet, but one text started something neither of us saw coming.

My name is Greer Karas, and I should never be allowed near another bottle of booze again. Because when I drink, my friend and I do stupid things. Like take a page out of my older brother Creighton's playbook and post something completely asinine on the Internet. Waking up with a giant hangover to find my humiliating personal ad has gone viral is not my finest moment.

He loves me, and he doesn't even know my real name. The limelight that follows him could expose everything I'm hiding. But even knowing the risks, I can't force myself to stay away. I'm going to break his heart, but mine will shatter right along with it. Will we lose it all when I reveal what's beneath this mask?

We fell in love on a beach, got married in paradise, and rode off into the sunset. It should have been perfect, but saying "I do" doesn't guarantee a happily ever after. Two years later, I barely recognize either of us behind the walls we've built. It's time to bring it full circle. Back to a tropical paradise. Back to find out if we can still make this work. I'm not willing to give her up, but to save us, I have to risk everything.

The feud between Weston Lockwood and me started at the altar. Only neither of us attended the wedding, and the nuptials happened decades before either of us was born. Our grandfathers had been best friends and business partners, at least up until my grandfather’s wedding day - when his bride-to-be blurted out she couldn’t marry him because she was also in love with Weston‘s grandfather.  

My love story all started with a letter. Only it wasn’t from the man I’d eventually fall in love with. It was from his daughter. A sweet little girl named Birdie Maxwell who’d written to the magazine that I worked for. You see, once a year my employer fulfilled a few wishes for readers. Only that column didn’t start up again for months. So I fulfilled some of her wishes myself. It was harmless…so I thought. Until one day I took things too far. While anonymously granting yet another of Birdie’s wishes, I got a look at her father.

I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own. 

He's arrogant. She's self-righteous. I hate him. I want her. I've been turning him down for two years straight. Every shutdown makes me work harder. I'm not a one-night stand kind of girl. She doesn't realize I won't settle for only one night. He's a distraction I don't need. She'll say yes eventually because I'm not giving up.

Deacon was rough on the exterior, but apparently on the inside? Mr. Single-and-Ready-to-Mingle was a baby whisperer. After that night, we became friends. He’d go for coffee runs. Come over to chat. Normal friend stuff. But over time, our conversations ran deeper. We got closer. Until one night we crossed the line.  

As kids, they hated each other. Macon Saint was beautiful, but despite his name, Delilah knew he was the devil. That he dated her slightly evil sister, Samantha, was no picnic either. When they broke up, it was a dream come true: Delilah never had to see him again. Ten years later, her old enemy sends a text. Delilah's sister has stolen a valuable heirloom from Macon, now a rising Hollywood star, and he intends to collect his due. One problem: Sam has skipped town.

Books talk about sparks flying. F--k that shit. With her, it was like emergency flares mixed with jet fuel. Or maybe just straight up napalm. Only one problem: She wouldn't tell me her name or her number when she disappeared from the hotel room after the hottest f--king night of my life. Now I've had a taste of unicorn pussy - the sweetest, rarest of all pussy - and I need it again. So what's an asshole to do? I took this problem to the street, a missed connection gone viral. And when I find her? I'm keeping her.

Eight weeks ago I signed a contract. It seemed like a good idea at the time: a handsome bachelor, luxury accommodations, and a chance to win a prize my family desperately needed. There were some rules, though - lots of them actually. I had to follow the script and avoid dating, sex, or disclosing the terms of the deal. After my self-imposed moratorium on men last year, it wouldn't be hard to live up to my end of the bargain...or so I thought.

It started out like any normal day. Then the fender bender happened. The guy I collided with drove an expensive car and was drop-dead gorgeous. Too bad he was also a total jerk. We argued over whose fault it was and any other thing that came out of his condescending mouth. Eventually, the police came and we went our separate ways. The insurance companies would have to figure things out. I had a job interview to get to anyway - one I was excited about. Though that excitement changed to disappointment the moment the person interviewing me walked in. The guy from the accident. 

One look at Jericho Forge, and I knew the rumors were true. He was a predator, and he had set his sights on me. I knew better than to bet more than I could afford to lose that night. I knew better than to bet myself. But desperation leads to bad decisions, and I thought there was no way I could lose. I was wrong. Now I have no choice but to make a deal with the devil....