More Naughty Than Nice
When plain, boring marketing drudge Stephanie Blanton reinvents herself as Stevie Bliss, the world finally takes notice! Her sizzling book, Blissfully Single, is soon rapidly climbing bestseller lists. Meanwhile, Stevie is sending men's libidos out of control with her philosophy of "lovin' 'em and leavin' 'em."Reporter Owen Dasher wants to interview the sexy singles expert. He's hot for her bod, yet senses underneath Stevie really yearns for babies and white picket fences. How so? He'd love to expose a few of her secrets. But as Christmas draws near, the real scoop might well be how "Dasher Conquers the Vixen"–both in bed and out!
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âYou look like you just tumbled out of bed,â Owen murmured
Stevie froze at the image. Tumbling out of bed⦠Owen Dasher half-naked amidst tangled sheets, extending a hand to reel her back in. Heat suffused her cheeks.
âNo⦠I just need to get dressed.â She pulled the skimpy robe tighter around her.
âI see.â But his eyes were glued on her hair now.
âIs there a reason youâre staring?â
âNoâ¦itâs just thatââ He moved closer, winding a few tendrils around his fingers.
Stevie held her breath. Her breasts rose and fell against the cool silk, her nipples peaking in the chilly room. She knew he wanted to kiss her, wanted to slip his hands inside her robe.
But instead he said, âItâs very strange. Your hair seems to be, uh, bentâ¦.â
Bent? Batting his hand away, she glanced in the nearby mirror. Oh, hell.
Just when Stevie thought she was operating with confidence and pizzazz, he pointed out she had Hee Haw hair. And she was back to square one.
She was past that stage, wasnât she? Stephanie no more!
With a determined air, Stevie turned to Owen and fluffed her hair. âLet me tell you how much fun it is beingâ¦blissfully single.â
Dear Reader,
Thereâs just something about Christmas. When the snow starts to fall, when you start to hear the carols and see the lights and the treesâ¦and in Chicago, when the Marshall Fieldâs department store unveils its magical windows, thereâs romance in the air right along with the snowflakes.
I hope youâll enjoy my look at life and love in Chicago during the holidays as much as I enjoyed dreaming it up. I admit itâI was totally smitten with the idea of an irresistible force like Stevie Bliss, author of a sizzling book about using men for a romp or two while never giving your heart, smacking right up against an immovable object like Owen Dasher, a reporter who thinks sheâs a total hottie and a total fake. Any other time of the year, Stevie might have been able to resist Owenâs devastating charms, to stay true to her âBlissfully Singleâ principles. But thereâs just something about Christmasâ¦.
I hope youâll pull up your comfiest chair, sit back with a cup of cocoa and enjoy this naughty little ride through the holidays!
Merry Christmas!
Julie Kistler
Books by Julie Kistler
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
808âJUST A LITTLE FLING
HARLEQUIN DUETS
19âCALLING MR. RIGHT
30âIN BED WITH THE WILD ONE
73âSTAND-IN BRIDE
THE SISTER SWITCH
Dedicated to Scott, my best Christmas present ever.
Contents
Prologue
ONE WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS. Santa on his way. And Stephanie Blanton already knew what she was going to find in her stocking. A big, fat nothing.
âGonna find out whoâs naughty and nice. Yeah, right,â she said in an aggrieved tone. âI have always been so nice. And what did it get me?â
No promotion. Not even a hint of a boyfriend or husband with whom to spend the holidays. Sitting in a crummy, noisy, smoke-filled bar a lousy week before Christmas. And if all that werenât bad enough, there were these nasty red and green lights dangling over the table, giving her a terrible headache.
âItâs all about expectations,â her best friend Anna put in. âWe expect too much from men.â
Stephanie nodded, doing her best to look wise, which wasnât easy when sheâd just slurped down three or four big olâ cosmopolitans. They were cheery and red, and she and Anna had ordered them to feel more Christmasy. Maybe if their drinks had been carried in by a gorgeous man wearing nothing but a sprig of mistletoe. Maybe then sheâd feel more festive.
Or maybe not.
âMen,â she muttered. âWho needs âem?â
âYâsee, Steph, when Findlay called you into his office, you thought he would ask you to the Christmas party.â Anna hiccuped loudly, but it didnât stop her lecture. âAnd thatâs where you went wrong. Because guys like Mr. Findlay donât ask out girls like us. Weâre too boring, too dull, too nicey-nicey, tooââ
âNo, no. Thatâs not right.â Stephanie sat up straighter on her bar stool, almost falling off but catching herself just in time.
âWhich part?â
âI didnât expect Findlay to ask me to the party.â She shook her head to clear away the cosmopolitan fog. Concentrate, Stephanie. âOkay, Anna, I know you were angling for a date to the office party. But I neverâ¦â
Anna sent her a cynical look.
âOkay, so maybe, maybe I had a tiny, little, baby-size kernel of hope that Findlay would ask me,â she said, waving a hand, trying to forget the whole misty fantasy sheâd spun for herself, all about gorgeous Mr. Findlay, who everyone knew was being promoted out of the cosmetics group, which meant he would no longer be her direct supervisor and therefore could ask her out with carefree abandon.
And what better time than Christmas? Mistletoe, snowflakes, picking out a tree together, eggnog by candlelightâ¦
