A Florida beauty who hides her stunning good looks. A childhood friend who's made a career of seduction. A thrilling story of mystery, secrets, and romance--as only New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann can tell it...
Sunrise Key native and aspiring private investigator Frankie Paresky has her first bona fide case--a client has hired her to find the missing heir to a priceless property. But there's one complication: Simon Hunt, her best friend's brother and a notorious heartbreaker, insists on being Frankie's assistant. For Frankie, even Simon's street-smart know-how isn't worth the cost of dealing with his distracting good looks and overactive libido. But Simon's on a mission to prove he's not the man Frankie thinks he is. The truth is, he's been dreaming about Frankie since they were teenagers, and not one woman on his endless list of conquests has managed to stop him. But he needs to work fast. Because the real Frankie--every gorgeous inch of her--isn't under wraps anymore, and a stranger is already moving in.
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February 23, 2009
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Excerpt from The Kissing Game by Suzanne Brockmann
Chapter One Hello?” “Simon? Please tell me that Leila’s there! ” After a brief silence, Simon Hunt’s familiar voice said, “I could tell you that, Francine, but I’d be lying. My sister’s not home right now. She and her future husband went to their third meeting with the caterers. If you ask me, this wedding thing is getting way out of hand.” Frankie Paresky closed her eyes and swore silently. “Simon, look, I need your help.” She spoke quickly, not allowing her best friend’s older brother time to speak, let alone a chance to refuse her. “I’m over at the airport. A charter flight just came in and I picked up the fare–only to find out that this man has come to Sunrise Key to seeme.I asked him where he was headed, and he gave me myaddress. I need you to do me a humongous favor–I need you to go over to my office and unlock the door. When I drop this guy off, let him into the waiting room and stall him until I can come in the back and change my clothes.” Simon was laughing at her, damn him. “You mean you don’t want a client to know that you moonlight as one of this island’s most illustrious cabdrivers?” “There’s nothing wrong with my earning a few extra bucks driving a cab,” Frankie said, “but . . . I really want this guy to take me seriously.” “And you think he’s going to take you seriously if you quickly change into your trench coat and fedora and pretend he doesn’t know you’re the same person who drove him from the airport?” “Will you please stop with the trench-coat jokes for once?” Frankie demanded. “I don’t even own a trench coat, and you know it.” “I thought you were issued one when you graduated from private eye school.” “Thanks a million, Hunt. Lord, why did I even bother–” “Relax, Francine. I’m going to help you. But are you sure you shouldn’t just be honest with this man? Tell him who you really are?” Over the crystal-clear telephone wires, Simon’s voice sounded warm and rich and smooth, as if he were standing right behind her, his breath warm on the back of her neck. If Frankie turned around, she’d see him, his brilliant blue eyes gleaming with amusement, his elegant lips curving into a smile, his blond hair tousled by the soft ocean breeze. Frankie closed her eyes briefly, trying to rid her mind of that distracting image. “He hasn’t actually looked at me,” she said. “He’s tired, and I think the charter hop from the mainland made him airsick. Besides, I spent the morning at the beach and I’m wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. I’m not even sure he realizes I’m a woman.” “Getting airsick doesn’t make you blind,” Simon pointed out. “You’re hardly five feet tall, Paresky. I’d bet last month’s profits that he knows you’re a wo