Blame It on Paris

Blame It on Paris
Jennifer Greene

Kelly Rochard is determined to have one last adventure before settling down to married life!Still, being mugged at the Louvre is not what she had in mind for her long-awaited trip to Paris. Until Will Maguire comes to her aid, and she finds herself completely distracted by the handsome stranger in the Notre Dame sweatshirt.Kelly can’t seem to resist the world’s most romantic city or Will, who is determined to show her all its treasures, from the top of the Eiffel Tower to strolls along the Seine. But will their love last when they’re back in plain old South Bend, Indiana, or will they end up blaming their breathless fling on the city of love?“ well-written, emotionally rich story… fairly simmers with sexual tension. ” —Library Journal on Blame It on Cupid “Greene writes a charming…new, fun-filled spin on romance with the boy next door. ” —Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Blame It on Cupid

Praise for the work ofUSA TODAYbestselling author

JENNIFER

GREENE

“A book by Jennifer Greene hums with an

unbeatable combination of sexual chemistry and

heart-warming emotion.”

—New York Times bestselling author Susan Elizabeth Phillips

“Written with a deliciously sharp sense

of humour and her usual superb sense of

characterisation… Greene’s latest romance is a

sweetly sexy, thoroughly satisfying, and

simply sublime literary confection.”

—Booklist on Blame It on Chocolate

“A warm-hearted romance with endearing

characters, simmering sensuality, and a very

interesting subject matter. A book to curl

up with on a cold night.”

—Rendezvous on Blame It on Chocolate

“The characters are likeable, the plot is realistic,

and the book is fantastic.”

—Romance Reviews Today on Blame It on Chocolate

Also available from Jennifer Greene and MIRA

BLAME IT ON CHOCOLATE

Dear Reader,

I’ve been to Paris only once, but I’ve never forgotten it. It’s a mesmerising, magical city like none other – a city of lights and legends, of sights and smells and sounds just made for fantasies and lovers.

Over the years, those memories kept brewing in my mind…just waiting for a story to weave around them…and finally it came.

I needed a special man, the kind of man who could make a girl want to throw away all that was safe and sure, everything she thought she believed about herself…just for the chance to be with him. And I needed a special woman, the kind of woman who could challenge and entice a man to be more than he was, more than he thought he could be…just for the right to be with her.

So I created Kelly…who meets the wrong man at absolutely the wrong time. And then I found Will…who has such a code of honour that he can’t possibly seduce Kelly, much less become involved with her.

But in Paris, what seems wrong anywhere else can be impossibly, wonderfully right – if my two lovers will just take that huge risk and leap off a cliff together.

I loved writing this story…and love having the chance to share it with you. hope you enjoy it!

All my best,

Jennifer Greene

JENNIFER GREENE

Blame It on Paris

www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)

To my lar

For being MY Paris

CHAPTER ONE

GUILT WAS so much fun.

Kelly Rochard grabbed her shoulder bag and bounded down the cracked porch steps of the centuries-old bed-and-breakfast. She couldn’t wait a second longer to inhale all the sights, smells and sounds of Paris in the springtime.

Who’d have thunk it? That a gregarious, nosy, hopelessly open person such as herself could possibly have managed to keep a secret this big?

No one even knew she was here.

Of course, in a week, she’d go back home to South Bend, confess everything to her new fiancé, never tell another fib again as long as she lived, and probably do penance for two or three aeons. As her mother loved to say, you could take the Catholic out of the girl, but you were stuck with the guilt for life.

But today, she just plain didn’t care. Guilt or no guilt, she was thrilled to be here.

Blithely she stepped off the curb—and a dozen horns shrieked at her mistake. She backed up fast, heart pounding. A couple taxi drivers yelled as they passed by—something about connarde and ballot and une tête de linotte. She was pretty sure the insults were aimed at her specific genetic heritage, with a few general references about her being an American scatterbrain, as well.

Okay, okay. So she was suffering jet lag, not at her brightest, and it was going to take her a while—and a map—to figure out how to get around…preferably without getting herself killed.

The small inn where she was staying didn’t seem located in exactly the newest, safest part of town, but the neighborhood still exploded with color.

Three street vendors in a row tried to woo her into taking a bouquet of fresh flowers. The next one sold café—which she fumbled with her brand-new euros to buy, and then sipped as she ambled on. Pedestrians bustled past, clearly on their way to work. All the women looked so savvy—their clothes not necessarily expensive, but even basic styles jazzed up with an interesting scarf tied the right way. A man winked at her. She gawked at an open-air grocery, where the smell of fresh fruits mixed with a luxurious array of fresh flowers.