Chloe Blake

A Taste Of Desire


Скачать книгу

my agent, Christine Whitthohn, for your constant support and guidance.

      To Shannon Criss and the editorial team for making my dream of being a Harlequin Kimani author come true.

      A huge shout-out to Jane Austen, with whom I share a birthday, and had I not visited an astrologer who told me that tidbit, I may not have become a writer.

      I’m lucky to have friends from all walks of life that are like family. There is no way I could ever repay the unwavering support of my writing group: Ami, Nadia, Anna and Saga, you are my soul sisters, my coven and the loves of my life. Let’s never stop creating, never stop drinking wine, never stop exploring the world and never stop dreaming bigger.

      And to Amy, my sister, soul mate and fellow motherless daughter, you know me better than anyone, and yet you still stick around. I love you. Thank you for always being there for me.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Dedication

       Acknowledgments

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Epilogue

       Extract

       Extract

       Chapter 1

      Nicole Parks burst from the bathroom of her hotel suite and rummaged through her suitcase. Bras, panties, a flat iron and a jam-packed makeup bag landed on the king-size bed. She sat up and aggressively squirted Visine into her eyes then gulped the fresh coffee she’d made from the in-room coffeemaker. Then she dove for her other suitcase.

      Her fifteen-hour flight to the Rio Grande do Sul region of Brazil had come with a pounding post-flight headache. The blazing hot thirty-minute car ride to Porto Alegre, the capital, hadn’t helped. She’d virtually passed out after checking into her hotel that afternoon, but now that nap, although refreshing, was screwing with her inner clock. Good thing her client chose the restaurant in her hotel for their business dinner. She had twenty minutes to be downstairs.

      Ten minutes went by, and Nicole turned to check her appearance in the floor-length mirror: black, sleeveless, form-fitting dress, mascara and nude lipstick in place, sleek black shoulder-length hair—frizzing slightly, but so far, so good—and mahogany arms and legs shimmering with lotion.

      She flipped her hair over her shoulder, gesturing to her reflection. I have a head for business and a bod for sin. Anything wrong with that? It was her favorite quote from the movie Working Girl. And she definitely was a working girl, since she was the only female international real estate broker and attorney at the New York City branch of Kingsley’s.

      You got this. Smooth sailing. She whispered positive mantras to herself. She loved this business: selling gorgeous properties, seeing the world, making the money. Not too shabby for a little girl from Brooklyn. Closing a deal fed her soul. It was better than sex, not that she was having any.

      Dressed to impress, she reached for her phone and sighed. After locating the passcode on the corner desk, she connected to the Wi-Fi and was instantly bombarded with texts, emails and voice mail messages. She itched to go through them, noting several from her boss, but they had to wait.

      Clutch and phone in hand, she rushed toward the elevator in her six-inch heels. Just as she jammed the button, a call came through. Her best friend Liz’s name popped up and Nicole bit her lip, knowing she shouldn’t answer.

      “Liz, I can’t talk right now. I’m meeting a client.” Nicole punched the elevator button again.

      “Nicole, where the hell have you been? I’ve