The Naughty Girls Book Club
Loved Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James then erotic romance The Naughty Girls Book Club is a must have.A quaint suburb. A quiet little reading group. A very naughty reading list…Estelle sets up a book group in order to increase custom to her struggling cafe, what follows is more scandalous than she could have ever imagined…As the first book club meeting flounders, Estelle suggests a spot of erotica to spice things up. Inspired by their naughty novels, this group of shy suburban readers shake off their inhibitions and discover that their own lives can be just as scandalous…Saucy and sexy chicklit fiction at its most seductive, this is romance perfect for fans of Jilly Cooper and Indigo Bloome.
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SOPHIE HART
The Naughty Girls Book Club
Table of Contents
Reading Group Questions for The Naughty Girls Book Club
1
‘You’ve been a bad girl, Christina … A very naughty girl …’
Christina gazed up at Alexander, her eyes dark with longing, her face flushed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she panted helplessly. ‘I won’t do it again.’
‘I need to make sure of that,’ Alexander said, as he stalked across the room. He’d removed his shirt, and his torso was taut and muscular. ‘I need to teach you a lesson.’
His gaze turned to the candle that blazed on the bedside table, the flame dancing and twisting.
As Christina stared, the wax spilled over from the slim, white candle down to the antique silver holder. She watched as it cooled and hardened.
‘I think you know exactly what I have in mind,’ Alexander murmured, his voice low and husky.
Christina could only nod, mute with longing.
‘But first – the sweetness,’ Alexander promised, as he moved towards her, bending down to kiss her lips, her neck, her collarbone.
Christina moaned in delight as his mouth moved lower … past her navel … over the soft, white mound of her stomach … and then lower still, before finally, exquisitely, she felt his hot lips on the delicate, pink flesh of her—
Estelle Humphreys glanced up in panic and slammed the book shut, hastily shoving it beneath a pile of papers. Her heart was pounding wildly, while her ears strained to listen.
The noise came again – thump, thump, thump – and Estelle realised with relief that it was just her fourteen-year-old son, Joe, in the flat upstairs. The racket meant that he’d finished his homework and turned on his music – Kasabian,by the sound of things.
She stood motionless for a moment, feeling her heart rate return to normal and her cheeks turn from flaming red to their more usual milky shade.
Guiltily, she removed the copy of Ten Sweet Lessons from underneath the distinctly less exciting pile of HMRC forms, and stared at it. The cover was deceptively innocent – a dark grey background, with a single red ribbon looped across it – but Ten Sweet Lessons was an erotica novel that was currently causing a sensation up and down the country. Selling thousands of copies every day, it had topped the bestseller lists for weeks. And it was the closest Estelle had come to a shirtless man with hot lips and an unbridled desire for a very long time …
With a sigh of longing, she stashed the book in her handbag, tied her mousey-brown-with-a-hint-of-grey hair back in the scruffy ponytail it was trying to escape from, and turned to the worksheets that were spread across the counter in front of her.
Back to reality.
The accounts for her little cafe made grim reading, as she calculated the day’s receipts and entered them on a spreadsheet. The takings had plummeted in recent weeks, and it didn’t seem as though anything Estelle did could reverse that trend. She knew that this time of year was always tough – after the Christmas rush, everyone cut back on their little treats, and no one wanted to venture out in the chilly February weather. But if business didn’t pick up soon … well, it didn’t bear thinking about.
Forty-two-year-old Estelle had opened Cafe Crumb five years ago when she and her husband, Ted, had got divorced. Married life had left her feeling as though her own identity was slowly being swallowed up by the demands of being a wife and a mother, so after she and Ted had split (realising they made much better friends than spouses) Estelle had resolved to do something for herself.
And she had, she thought proudly, surveying the little cafe with its red and white checked tablecloths, a single red gerbera in a white vase on each table. As it was now the end of the day, everything was wiped down and perfectly clean, the window cleared of its usual delicious-looking selection of cakes and pastries.
It might not be much, but it was hers, Estelle thought with satisfaction.
But for how much longer? she wondered with a shudder, as she looked down again at the depressing figures. They seemed to swim in front of her tired eyes.
Of course, she had her regular customers – the businessmen who rushed in for their morning latte with a buttery croissant for their daily commute into Bristol city centre; the yummy-mummies who dropped by for gossip, green tea and a low-fat muffin after dropping the kids at school; the lunchtime rush who chomped their way through piles of toasted sandwiches; and the afternoon pensioner crowd who loved their traditional cream teas – but there just didn’t seem to be enough of them anymore.
