Miss April Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder… But April can’t allow herself to believe. April isn’t the most beautiful woman in the world. She’s the first to admit she could stand to lose twenty-five pounds…or more. And she has a great fantasy thing going with tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome Mr. D. Cristofer. Why ruin it by taking him up on one of his endless offers for a hot date, complete with all-night sex? Sexual tension builds as April resists the inevitable, until one day the walls protecting her crumble and she surrenders. Throwing caution to the wind, she finally agrees to join him for one elegant evening on the town followed by one torrid night between the sheets. April’s plan is to take her one night of illicit sex and wring it of enough passion to last a lifetime. But Mr. D. Cristofer has other plans. He’s found his Miss April, and has no intention of letting her go. Now he just has to convince her that he wants more than the fantasy. |
| Available in Print |
Excerpt “Do you realize,” he murmured in a low deep rumble, leaning over the counter to put his face close to hers, “that our relationship has outlasted all my relationships with all of my other girlfriends?” “All of your other girlfriends put together!” April corrected him with a warm laugh. He laughed in return, a rich male sound that made her heart stutter. “That’s probably true. Put together,” he confirmed. “You and I have had this thing going for—” “Two years, three months and eight days,” April filled in for him, trying to keep her voice light while the rest of her was just about swooning over the carnal creature standing on the other side of the counter. He pushed back the sleeve of his soft leather jacket and regarded his elegant watch. “And thirty-five minutes,” he instructed her in a stern voice of reproof. “So, when are you going to go out with me?” “When are you going to quit smoking?” she challenged him as she threw a pack of cigarettes onto the counter and slid the small green box in his direction. “The moment you agree to go out with me,” he answered affably. “Mr. D. Cristofer,” she announced with a lifted eyebrow, “it appears we are at an impasse.” “I don’t actually smoke them, you know,” he told her conspiratorially, “They’re just an excuse to stop in and visit you every morning. You should see the back seat of my car.” “D’you mean to tell me,” she enquired, waving the pack of cigarettes at him, “the back seat of your Triumph is littered with full packs of cigarettes?” “Not at all. I just want you to see the back seat of my car.” He leaned forward again and she was almost overwhelmed by the heat he radiated along with pure, concentrated sex appeal. “It was just made for a woman like you.” Swallowing hard, April squinted out the window in the direction of his vintage Triumph. “But your car is tiny!” she pointed out. His face came that much closer to hers. So close she could smell the faint hint of peppermint on his breath. Weak-kneed, she couldn’t help but imagine how that peppermint would taste on her lips. “You could bend your knees,” he suggested with a warm wink and a sultry smile. Fighting to keep her wits about her despite her very female response to his overpoweringly male presence, she shot a look through the window of the convenience store in which she worked. “I’d have to bend my knees if you expected me to sit in that back seat!” “I wasn’t expecting you to sit,” he said in a sin-weighted whisper, “I was more imagining you on your back with your legs around my hips.” He lifted his wide shoulders in a slow shrug. “But if you want to do it sitting, we could try it out.” For at least two seconds she stared at the counter, wordless as she swallowed down a hard lump of lust and her body responded to this suggestion. Her libido obviously appreciated this particular idea, she noted, as a heavy damp heat collected between her legs. Not that he hadn’t given her plenty of ideas in the past. And that was before he started talking! It wasn’t like she needed his help creating erotic images involving his naked body up against hers. Even when he wasn’t filling her head with his own variety of illicit fantasies, her ready imagination was doing a very competent job of providing her with ideas of her own. Lots of ideas. In explicit, graphic detail. Feigning disgust, April slapped his cigarettes down on the counter. The smack of sound was a sharp punctuation mark signifying that their exchange was over. She pushed the credit card slip toward him. “That’s twenty-three, ninety for the gas, gum and cigarettes.” Trying for playful, she returned his challenging smile as he signed the white slip of paper—D. Cristofer—without once looking at it. “Have a good day, Mr. Cristofer,” she told him. Scraping his hand through brown hair that just reached the soft leather collar of his jacket, the tanned Adonis straightened to smile down on her a final time. As though he didn’t already know her name, eyes the hue of sea foam lingered cheekily at her left breast where she wore her name on a rectangle of white plastic. “You too, Miss April.” |
| Other Books in the Calendar Girl Series |
madison hayes
Miss April: Calendar Girls
| Buy book at Ellora's Cave |
| Cover Art by Willo |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
| | | | | | | | | | |
