One week of pleasure...with an Italian bad boy!
Good girl Juno Darlington-Hume is getting a sexual education in this steamy second installment of Christy McKellen’s Sexy Little Secrets miniseries.
I’ve always been in my famous sisters’ shadows. I’m the smart one. Not the sexy one. Not the beautiful one. But a PhD won’t satisfy me in bed. And I can’t satisfy anyone else if I don’t know what I’m doing. So I’m ready to learn the secrets of physical desire...
Italian playboy Alessandro Ricci is just the expert I’m looking for. Tall, dark and drop-dead gorgeous, Alessandro has a reputation for providing absolute pleasure. He’s agreed to spend one week showing me almost everything he knows. No emotions, though. Just sex. Extremely erotic, pantie-melting sex!
From magical Florence to the golden Tuscan countryside, he’s taking me to ever-higher peaks of ecstasy, letting me get closer than any other woman. Soon our “no emotions” deal is turning into something I never expected: intense connection in every way imaginable. I’m falling hard! But when I learn he’s tipped off the paparazzi to our every location, I have to wonder—was he just using me to save his bad reputation?
Sexy. Passionate. Bold. Discover Harlequin DARE, a new line of fun, edgy and sexually explicit romances for the fearless female.
Formerly a video and radio producer, CHRISTY McKELLEN now spends her time writing provocative, passionate, seductive romance. When she’s not writing she can be found enjoying life with her husband and three children, walking for pleasure and researching other people’s deepest secrets and desires. Christy loves to hear from readers. You can get hold of her at christymckellen.com.
Good Girl
Christy McKellen
ISBN: 978-1-474-08691-2
GOOD GIRL
© 2019 Christy McKellen
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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For Lycia, godmother extraordinaire.
Thank you for being there.
Contents
Juno
ALESSANDRO RICCI IS phenomenal in bed.
At least that’s what I’ve heard other people say about him. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t know, for two reasons: firstly, I’m a virgin, and secondly, he refused to sleep with me when I asked him to.
It wasn’t my finest hour.
The first time we met was at my father’s fiftieth birthday party. Even amongst the plethora of filthy rich, gregariously glamorous socialites that had been invited he stood out like the Sirius star system on a clear night.
I was making my way, head ducked, through the throng of partygoers to a quiet corner to hide out for a while, needing a break from the excruciating, polite conversation that my bully of a father demanded I make with his friends and associates, when my shoulder bumped against something solid and unyielding. Turning to flash whomever it was a look of apology, my gaze locked with a dazzling pair of eyes and my whole world came to a screeching halt, air whooshing from my lungs and a wave of heat rushing up my neck to flood my face.
You