Swept Off Her Stilettos

ISBN: 0373741243

Author: Harper, Fiona

Condition: New

Product Description Clothing connoisseur Coreen Fraser's film-star stylenever leaves her wanting for male attention. But sourcing costumes for a 1930s murder-mystery weekend stops being fun when she discovers she has to wear a tweed suit and sensible shoes!Meanwhile, Coreen's best friend, Adam Conrad, has his own plans for the weekend. One moonlit kiss later, Coreen sees the truth: Adam's the only man who knows the girl beneath the skyscraper heels and scarlet lipstick. Is she brave enough to invite him to kiss that lipstick off anytime he likes? About the Author Coming from two generations of journalists, writing was in Fiona Harpers genes. As a child she was constantly teased for having her nose in a book and living in a dream world. Things haven't changed much since then, but at least in writing she's found a use for her runaway imagination! She loves dancing, cooking, reading and watching a good romance. Fiona lives in London with her family. Visit her website at: www.fionaharper.com Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The Girl Can't Help It?Coreen's Confessions No.1In my opinion, a pinkie finger isn't properly dressed unless it's got a man comfortably wrapped around itand I always make sure I'm impeccably dressed.I glared at the man who'd rushed through the coffee shop door. Not only had he almost spilled my caramel mochaccino down my best polka-dot dress as he'd barged past, but he hadn't even bothered to hold the door open for me.Not that I was about to admit I was losing my mojo. He probably just hadn't seen me in his rush to escape from the unseasonable weather.Left with no alternative, I balanced the two steaming paper cups of coffee I was holding and tried to open the door with my elbow. No good. There was only one thing for it. I sighed, turned one-eighty degrees, and shoved it open with my rear end.I glanced upwards as I stepped outside onto Greenwich High Street. The sky wasn't just promising rain but threatening with menaces. What should have been a balmy summer evening was as heavy and gloomy as a December afternoon. Thankfully, I only had a two-minute walk ahead of me, and would be safe and dry inside before the heavens opened.Rude Man had something else to answer for too. No one would be standing with his hand on the open door, transfixed, as a steady stream of customers flowed past him. No one would be admiring my rear view as I walked away, my head high and my hips swaying like Marilyn's in Some Like It Hot. I'd watched that movie at least fifty times before I'd got the walk down pat, and the least I deserved was a little appreciation for my efforts.I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. Well, I was going to make the journey back to the shop countrude man or no rude man. There was plenty of traffic passing by to serve as an audience. I placed one red patent stiletto in front of the other and began to walk.I nipped round the corner into Church Street and then across the busy junction into Nelson Street. However, not even the sight its neat row of cream Georgian buildings lifted my mood this evening. Normally when I passed each shop or boutique I'd smile and wave at the owner as I counted down the door numbers with growing excitement.On the corner was the all-organic coffee shopclosed now, but mid-morning packed with Yummy Mummies who cluttered the floor space with their high-tech pushchairs and the air with discussions on the merits of the local private nurseries. Next was the second-hand bookshop that did a roaring trade in textbooks for the students at the nearby university campus. After that was Susie'sa bakery that specialised entirely in cupcakes. The window was full of frosted and glittering towers of different flavoured cakes, delicious-looking enough to cause even the most dedicated dieter to stop and lick her lips. Then there was a Thai restaurant, a newsagent's, and a shop called Petal that sold just about anything as long