“Sweet Filthy Boy has everything necessary for a great romance read. Love, passion, heat, turmoil, and humor are all perfectly combined. Add in the stellar writing and there is nothing more I could ask for.”

—Bookish Temptations

“The adorable factor is 110%. The clever moments, laugh out loud quips, and overall good feelings were there and then some. But the sex... good grief... the sex. Christina Lauren can write some sex scenes like no other. I was fanning myself and looking at my husband in a whole new light. If only he spoke French.”

—Nicely Phrased

“This book is chock full of... everything. Hilariously mortifying situations. Playful banter. Heart. Adventure. Sexy French language, locales, art, food. French everything. Sexy everything. A gorgeous man in a suit. A gorgeous man in boxers. A gorgeous man in nothing. Christ! Christina and Lauren have proven time and time again that they have immense talent, an undeniable creative chemistry, romantic hearts, and deliciously dirty minds.”

—Nestled in a Book

Dedication

To our dads, Pat and James,
for supporting even our wildest adventures

Chapter One

Chapter ONE

Harlow

I BURST THROUGH THE doors of this random Starbucks in this random neighborhood in the hopes of forgetting the second-worst lay of my life. Toby Amsler: Fantastically flirty, hot, and with the added bonus of being on the UCSD water polo team—he had all the makings for a night of world-class, toe-curling fun.

False advertising at its finest.

You see, when it comes to potential love interests, guys typically fall into three basic categories: the manwhore, the misunderstood, and the mama’s boy. The manwhore, in my experience, comes in any number of shapes and sizes: dirty rock star, muscled quarterback, even the occasional irresistible hot nerd. Their strength in bed? Generally, dirty talk and endurance, both of which I’m a fan. Sadly, this doesn’t always translate into skill.

The misunderstood often takes the shape of an artist, a quiet surfer, or a soulful musician. These boys rarely know what the hell to do, but at least they’re willing to try for hours.

The mama’s boy is the easiest to spot. Here in La Jolla, he usually drives his mom’s hand-me-down Lexus and keeps it in pristine condition. This type takes his shoes off as soon as he walks indoors and always maintains eye contact while speaking. In bed, the mama’s boy offers few benefits, but at least they tend to be tidy.

Toby Amsler turned out to be the rare combination of mama’s boy and manwhore, which somehow made him exponentially worse in bed. The only thing more awkward than his vacuum-suction oral skills was being woken by his mother bringing him tea and Cheerios—without knocking—at six in the morning. Not my finest wake-up call.