Frenched

When I got jilted by my unfaithful fiancé a week before the wedding, my plans involved nothing more than ice cream, a blanket fort, and a bonfire of his possessions. But my friends convince me that bitter tastes better when it’s drowned in Bordeaux, so I embark on the Parisian honeymoon by myself. However, the City of Light isn’t remotely charming or romantic when you’re alone at a table for two, so all I want to do is go home again. Then I meet Lucas Fournier.

I have trouble saying no. To shoes, handbags, the dessert tray…you name it. But when I agreed to a plan last-minute engagement bash for a spoiled Mafia princess, I had no idea she’d demand that my sexy ex cater it. He’ll agree to work for me, but only if I agree to spend a weekend with him. Did I mention my weakness for a**holes with tattoos? I’m totally forked.

OK, fine. I’ll confess. While my house was being robbed, I was in the shower indulging my favorite Brad Pitt fantasy (the one with the Troy costume and the handcuffs). But where is the justice in the world when the first cop on the scene is the former bully next door? How dare that arrogant jerk grow up to be six-foot-three inches of solid muscle with gorgeous blue eyes! I can’t stop thinking about him. Or his handcuffs. Or his dirty mouth. Or the way he still likes to boss me around these days, only with a lot less clothing.