French KissBook - 2006
L.A. architect Nicole Lesdaux has just signed on to create a tree house for record producer Johnny Patrick's little girl, Jordi. The hunky single dad has given Nicky an unlimited budget-though she might have agreed to work for free, if it meant watching his sizzlingly sexy body by the pool every day.
But mixing business with pleasure is one of Nicky's no-nos-so she focuses on making this music mogul the Taj Mahal of tree houses. Until Johnny's ex-wife makes off to Paris with their daughter...
Since Nicky speaks the language, a desperate Johnny needs her help finding little Jordi. En route, sexual tensions run ever higher. Again and again, the two must fight back the urge to come together. And, as Nicky discovers, Johnny does know some French after all.
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Upscale tree house architect Nicole Lesdaux salivates at the thought of her newest client, “sexiest man alive” music producer Johnny Patrick. And, because she speaks the language, she finds herself flying in Johnny’s private jet to Paris, France, to help him on his mission to rescue Johnny’s daughter from his careless, drugged-up ex-wife.
He’s used to sex-on-demand from his flavour of the week, and she knows it…But wouldn’t it be worth it as a once— or twice…or more—in a lifetime experience? She just has to keep her emotions out of it. But circumstances make that hard to do…drug lords, sinful deserts, the Eiffel Tower, and Johnny himself. And, let's not forget...it is Paris, after all.
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situation: back from Paris...
By message ten, she was thinking of suicide by chocolate and had eaten four—okay, maybe it was five..at the most six—truffles she'd brought back from Nice. A few truffles more, though, the last message deleted, her mood was definitely on the upswing; life seemed worth living again.
News flash. Chocolate was not a viable agent for suicide.
She was even feeling good enough by then to deem her life well lived even if she never had sex with Johnny Patrick again. There were lots of other fish in the dating sea. Tons of them.
Like hell, the little voice inside her head refuted without a care for pragmatism.
Perish the thought! her selfish, little voice howled in affront.
"Oh, crap—let's face it," Nicky muttered under her breath, "there isn't enough chocolate in the world."