The Paris Notebook by Cynthia Harrison

(about this author)

  • As the girlfriend of a rock star, Deena Smith traveled the world in style. Now she’s moved on and enjoys a quiet life as a college instructor. When she discovers her rocker ex stole a notebook of her song lyrics and claimed them as his own, Deena is determined to do whatever it takes to get her notebook back, even if it means playing nice with her evil ex. But when her co-worker offers to help restore her work, little does she know her quiet little world will be turned upside down.

    Sympathetic to Deena's plight, Jack Karris offers to assist. He can't stand the idea someone would wound her so deliberately. But despite the desire that sparks between them, Jack can’t wait to leave the small university town behind. Deena is his unwitting ticket to New York, and although she has zero interest in the project Jack proposes for her writing, he's convinced she'll also find a dream come true.

    When the truth comes out, and Jack's good intentions are revealed, Deena must decide is he the sincere man she's come to trust, or is he just out to steal whatever he can... including her heart?

    Rating: Spicy
    Page Count: 258
    Word Count: 66628
    978-1-61217-348-1 Paperback
    978-1-61217-268-2 Digital


    On the way up her stairs, Jack stayed a few steps behind her. Probably looking up her skirt. Good. She’d worn the new thong.

    She turned to Jack at the door, and their bodies clashed full-on for the first time. Desire wrapped around them and squeezed. But the thong was damned uncomfortable. She’d never liked them.

    “Sorry,” Jack said.

    She just smiled. He loved sweets and she’d made his favorite. The perfect way to win a man: sexy underwear and fresh baked goods.

    “I know you just had dessert, but I made you a batch of chocolate chip cookies.” Seriously out of practice in seduction, she needed another sip or two of wine before whatever was going to happen between them.

    “I’ll be just a sec.” She headed into the bathroom, where she slid off her thong and threw it into the hamper. She checked her reflection in the mirror, smoothing gloss over her lips while predictable Jack scouted the kitchen for cookies. “Would it be inappropriate to ask for a glass of milk?”

    “Sure.” She left the bathroom and moved around her kitchen, pouring milk and wine, whisking the plastic wrap from the plate of cookies she’d set on top of the fridge earlier.

    Jack came up behind her as she worked at the counter. He pressed against her, grabbing a cookie. His appreciation of the glimpse of thong on the steps made itself known through the thin material of her skirt. He bit into the cookie and kissed her on the cheek. He didn’t move away.

    “Crumbs.” She wiped her face with her hand and turned around. Their eyes met for a long moment, and then, for the first time since she’d known him, Jack Karris put down an unfinished cookie. And he kissed her.


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The Paris Notebook

The Paris Notebook

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