Day Three and CLUES!

October 28, 2008 | Contests

As a reminder, here are my 10 Trivia Questions;

1 – Name the Naughty Ladies of Nice books in release order.
2- What was the satisfying sound to Doni’s ears when her bag connected with his diaphragm and he buckled?
3 – What did Doni think the scum bucket smelled like?
4 – What song was Lisette mouthing while she watched the gardener?
5 – What did Lisette see the gardener easily hoist with one hand?
6 – What kind of attitude did Donald think Claudette had?
7 – What was Claudette wearing when Don came into the bathroom?
8 – To what image did Rachel change her secret pirate?
9 – Who else did Rachel remember with the same snotty attitude as Henri?
10- When does French Tickler release?

When you have the answers, please email them to sloanetaylor@comcast.net on or before October 30. Please type TRIVIA in the subject line. The winners will be drawn and announced October 31.

Prizes you ask? Well, I’m happy to tell you. Everyone who plays receives a goodie packet. There will be four top winners who will have their choice of one book from the Naughty Ladies of Nice series. Now let’s supply you with today’s clues.

Naughty Ladies of Nice
Book Three
FRENCH TWIST
Eternal Press
www.EternalPress.ca
http://www.eternalpress.ca/frenchtwist.html

BLURB:

Interpol agent Claudette D’Laquois is on the run. Dull Uncle Paul and his rundown chateau in Nice, France are her only safe haven…but she never planned on the delectable estate manager who is even more dangerous than the Russian mob boss who wants her dead.

Three weeks of overseeing operations at his friend’s orchard seems like the ideal vacation to CPA Don Hobbs. And so it was—until a French sex goddess pulls him into a world of drugs, intrigue, and erotic fantasy.

EXCERPT:

“Baby, you’re up to your beautiful brown eyes in shit.” Don leaned against the office door frame, his arms crossed over his chest as if that could control his temper.

Claudette gave him one of her typical French sniffs. Chicks from Marseille had one hell of a disposition, he decided for about the twentieth time since he’d been forced to work with her.

Bonjour, Monsieur Hobbs. It is nice to see you, too, this beautiful morning.” Again with the sniff. He’d enjoy nothing more than spanking the firm ass of his unwanted assistant, but figured she’d rat him out to her Uncle Paul.

“Glad you’re able to relax with a ton of that reeking stuff parked in the front yard.” Don blinked and shoved his glasses up his nose, forcing his eyes away from her long legs stretched across the scarred desktop. Just once, he wished, she’d have a little decorum and wear slacks to work. “Do you have plans to do something with it?”

Mon ami, you make too much of small things.” Claudette crossed one knee over the other and didn’t bother to tug down her short red skirt. Don swallowed hard. She sniffed again and held her hand at arm’s length, inspecting her nails. That irritating, hoity-toity attitude of hers had to go. “Plus, you exaggerate. I simply checked one of the little boxes on the form and mailed it to the supplier. He obviously made the mistake, if what you say is truth.”

He slapped the side of the desk to get her undivided attention. Right then he’d do anything to erase the image of those well toned calves wrapped around his neck. Dammit, why were French women so sexy?

“No, doll, there’s literally a ton of cow dung right out there on the circular drive.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, his other hand nudging her legs aside to grab a sheaf of papers. “I don’t know what the hell you ordered, but that’s what you got. So what’s your plan, baby? I happen to have a shovel in your size.”

Her chair skated back, just short of hitting the bookcase. Gritting her teeth, she tossed the little glass nail file she’d been using onto a stack of papers and stood.

“Do not treat me like a stupid woman—.” Cheeks flaming, she got right into his face. “Or your wife.”

“One, you’re not stupid. You only like to pretend you are.” He ticked the points off the fingers on his free hand. “Two, thank God I don’t have a wife. With my bad luck, she might have been just like you.”

She glared at him for one intense second before she jerked the order form from his hand.

“You, monsieur, need to be taught manners.”

“You, mademoiselle, need a good spanking.”

A coy smile tweaked the corners of her pouty, full lips. “That may be so, you uptight Américain, but this is not the time to discuss my sexual preferences.”

Later that day Claudette stood in front of him wearing just a smile and her red stilettos heightened her awareness. And need. The dingy hallway seemed brighter; the stale air fresh with his unique scent of spice and lime. She sensed his desire as if it had life of its own, and knew this was right.

Her nipples pebbled, the shower fantasy fresh in her mind. Her gaze locked with his. She stretched an arm behind her and undid the oversize metal clip from her hair. With a toss of her head long strands cascaded below her shoulders, the ends tickling across her breasts.

His hands hung at his sides, fingers curled inward and knuckles white. An impressive bulge tented his slacks. She swiped her tongue across her dry lips and raised her head. His eyes were opened wide, intent, watching her, encouraging her to be bold.

In her mind a sensual melody began. She hummed softly, swaying her hips to the beat, watching him through half closed eyes to see him swallow. Hard. She glided a hand upward along her ribs, each movement slow and seductive to shock the uptight accountant into action.

His skin grew taut over high cheekbones as she traced her fingertips along the curve of her breast, allowing her index finger to graze a rigid nipple. The tight bud puckered more as she made small swirls around her areola. A familiar ache began low in her abdomen, intensifying with each stroke.

Dieu, how she wanted him.

He stood there as if transfixed, the sound of his breathing loud.

Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell
Francine On Fire www.aspenmountainpress.com
French Delights www.eternalpress.ca
www.sloanetaylor.com www.myspace.com/sloanetaylor

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