Confessions of a Lingerie Addict

Confessions of a Lingerie Addict

3.0 6
by Jennifer Ashley
Binge-buying sexy lingerie may not solve all problems, but it will quell one woman's romantic woes until the right guy comes along.


Binge-buying sexy lingerie may not solve all problems, but it will quell one woman's romantic woes until the right guy comes along.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
A promising setup builds to a somewhat disappointing outcome in this first contemporary romance from Ashley, who's best known for her pirate romances (e.g., The Care & Feeding of Pirates; The Pirate Next Door). When Brenda Scott, a shy DJ at an unpopular San Diego radio station, gets dumped by her rich, controlling boyfriend, Larry, she comforts herself by downing martinis at a New Year's party. The next morning, she's shocked to find a stranger in her bed, but Nick, the man in question, dashes away before she can find out what occurred. Finally liberated from Larry, Brenda decides to trade in her full-coverage underwear for some scanty panties and a bold new personality. When she bumps into Nick again, she lands a second date with him. Later, she turns on the radio and learns that Nick is the new DJ at a rival station, where he sends out a song asking Brenda to call him back. She does return the call, over the air, starting a public flirtation that grabs all of San Diego's attention. Though her character is occasionally amusing, Brenda's transformation from a nervous girl into a sexy free spirit is predictable, as is the ensuing trouble that develops. The DJ rivalry adds some intensity to the romance, but it never really takes off. Agent, Bob Necoy. (June) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.

Product Details

Dorchester Publishing Company, Inc.
Publication date:
Product dimensions:
4.26(w) x 6.80(h) x 1.05(d)

Read an Excerpt

Confessions of a Lingerie Addict

By Jennifer Ashley

Dorchester Publishing

Copyright © 2005

Jennifer Ashley

All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-505-52636-0

Chapter One

On New Year's morning, I woke up with a man I didn't know.

I sat up. He sat up. We stared at each other.

He had blond hair sticking out every which way, bloodshot blue
eyes, and a chin stubbled with red-gold bristles. He also had
a very nice chest and muscular shoulders, which were all
bronzed and tanned.

We were in my bed in my apartment and the New Year's party
that had raged all night in the living room was finally quiet.
We were both stark naked.

I had no clue who he was.

He said, "Unh."

I said, "Oh, God."

He scrambled out of bed, holding part of the sheet over him. I
got a wonderful view of his chest and arms and lower abdomen,
that slice between the belly button and what a nice girl
shouldn't want to see.

He grabbed his clothes. He held them over himself and dropped
the sheet. Then he ran.

He had the nicest butt I'd ever seen in my life.

I sat there, bewildered and in pain. I, Brenda Scott, mousy,
quiet, never-rocks-the-boat Brenda had just slept with a
beautiful-bodied blond man whose name she didn't know.

And I didn't remember anything about it.

* * *

The day before, December 31, my boss Tony Beale, the owner of
KCLP FM, had decided that the best way for him to get a
ratings bounce was to see how high he could make theDJs

He drove all of us to Coronado Bridge to set up a remote
broadcast in the freezing wind from San Diego Bay.

"This will work, Brenda," he said, rubbing his hands. His eyes
lit with that fanatic glow it got when he was excited about
one of his crazy ideas. "This is going to be great."

"Sure, Tony," I said, my teeth chattering.

Tony was always trying to get KCLP get into the top five
ranked stations in the city, and he had idea after stupid idea
to help us claw our way up. None of them ever worked, of

Today, he'd decided to hook up the DJs with wireless mikes,
strap them to bungee cords, and throw them over the side of
the Coronado Bridge. He didn't throw me over because I wasn't
one of the stars. All I had to do was stand at the top,
shivering, and describe the scene.

So, I told San Diego which DJ was going over, then I turned
off the mike and cried, because that morning, my boyfriend,
Mr. Perfect, had called me and said, "This isn't going to
work, Brenda."

He meant that he wanted to break up with me but couldn't think
of a good excuse why. The truth was that he, Larry Bryant, one
of the richest men in southern California, had gotten tired of
mousy, nobody little Brenda Scott.

I'd seen the breakup coming. Larry Bryant, perfect man with a
perfect career, a perfect life, a perfect house, and perfect
looks had expected his girlfriend to be perfect, too.

I'm not perfect. I'm five foot four and have red hair that
mostly sticks out. My eyes are blue, kind of a washed-out
blue, not deep, dark, and soulful. I have a good nose, but
it's freckled. I wear a size eight, and that's all I'm going
to say about that.

I suppose Larry wanted me to get tucked and sucked and lifted
until I was five nine with a great figure and glowing blonde
hair. I wouldn't, I couldn't, and so he didn't want me around
any more.

Tony, when he'd found out about the breakup, had been livid.
"For God's sake, Brenda, get him back! He's our best

Larry was one of the few businessmen that bothered to
advertise with KCLP. Probably because our rates were so cheap,
and Tony gave him extra spots for free. That's how I'd met
Larry; he had come to the station to talk to Tony about
landing the choicest times for his spots. Larry's family owned
a successful local chain of sporting goods stores, and he was
ready to open branches in Los Angeles. Yes, that Larry Bryant.

"I know you're upset," Mr. Perfect had said that morning in
his I-know-what's best-for-you voice. "You tell Tony you need
a little time to pull yourself together, then you'll be all

I'd hung up on him.

Tony had decided that the breakup had been my fault and
refused to give me any sympathy.

Out on the bridge, the morning show host, Tim, refused to
jump. Tony got him finally shoved into place, turned on Tim's
microphone, and told him to jump. Tim wouldn't do it, so Tony
pushed him over.

The people of San Diego got to hear scream after terrified
scream as Tim went down, down, down-and then- nothing. They
got to hear me stand up top bleating, "There goes Tim. Sounds
like he's having fun." And then "Oh, God."

And then silence. Dead air is one of the scariest things for
radio stations. According to the engineers back in the studio
and the FCC, I treated greater San Diego to one minute and
twelve seconds of dead air before I finally said, shakily,
"He's still breathing, isn't he?"

Tim was still breathing when they pulled him back up to the
bridge. His cord hadn't been too long, he hadn't hit his head
or banged into the side of the bridge, or any of those things
I'd feared. He'd passed out from terror. He woke up as they
pulled him back over the side, snarling every foul word he
knew at Tony Beale. His mike was still on. The engineers were
laughing so hard that no one thought to cut him off the air.

More FCC fines for KCLP.

The day dragged on, the sun went down, the weather grew
colder, and still I stood on the bridge while the DJs joked
and laughed and pushed each other over the side.

I missed lunch, then I missed dinner. Someone brought sub
sandwiches, but the jumpers ate them all while I kept up the
on-air chatter.

My stomach growled, the hours went by and I thought of the New
Year's party my roommate would be throwing. I had planned to
spend New Year's Eve at an expensive restaurant with Mr.
Perfect. Instead, I'd be spending it at home with my weird
roommate and her even weirder friends.

Finally the day was over. Marty the producer wrapped up the
mike cords, and I hurried to my car, hoping the heater would

Tony caught up to me as I unlocked my car. Tony, at fifty, had
round eyes, a good paunch, and barely any hair on the top of
his head. "Talk to Larry, Brenda," he said. "That's a good
girl. You tell him you're sorry for whatever you did and that
you won't do it again."

"Mind your own business, Tony," I growled.

"It is my business. I want his money."

I got into my car. "Happy New Year," I said.

He leaned down and called through the window. "I'll expect
good news on Monday, Brenda."

I started the car and gunned it. Tony jumped out of the way,
and I peeled out and slid into traffic heading back toward San

By the time I got home, it was dark and Clarissa's crowded,
ear-splitting party was in full swing. My living room was
crammed with people I didn't know, many looking like they
could try out for parts in a bondage flick. As I dragged
myself in, a dominatrix-looking woman handed me a martini.

I downed it. It burned all the way to my stomach, almost
straight vodka. I headed for the food, which was mostly gone
except for a few tortilla chips and the remnants of salsa that
smelled like stale onions.

Before I could eat even that, someone put another martini into
my hand. I drank it while I yelled over the music to Clarissa,
making up some excuse why I'd decided to come instead of going
out with Larry. She looked at me with her eyeliner-black eyes
and smiled. I have no idea if she even heard me.

I could have lived with the dominatrixes and the music and the
lack of food. I could have shut myself in my bedroom with my
martini to have a private cry. But the next time I looked up,
I saw Larry walk in.

I jumped. What was he doing here? Had he not had enough of
humiliating me that he had to come and give me some more in

He scanned the crowd, looking for me, probably. I grabbed
martini number three and hid myself behind two guys with very
white faces wearing black leather and chains.

As Larry made his way through the teeming crowd, the third
martini went down the hatch, and then all pain went away.

And so did I. At least the conscious part of me. As far as I
know I went over like a tree in a high wind.

The next thing I remember is waking up next to my tight-butted
blond man, who took one look at me and fled into the dawn.

I grabbed my clothes and jerked them on, leaving off half my
underwear. I stumbled out of the room-and straight into Mr.

To this day, I have no clue what he was doing there, why he'd
come back. Clarissa shouldn't have let him in. He was shaved
and dressed and looked like he was ready to go to work-on New
Year's Day when the rest of the world was still climbing out
of its fuzzy cocoon and going, "hunh?"

I knew by his expression that he'd seen my mystery man run out
of the room. He gazed down at me, baffled, his perfect brows
arched. "Brenda?"

I stood there, my mouth open, my panties in my hand while
Larry stared at me in a mixture of horror and fascination.
"Brenda? What do you think you're doing?"

I don't know where it came from. Brenda Scott had always been
quiet, shy, and mousy. I did what I was told, showed up to
work on time, laughed at everyone's jokes. I had been the
obedient and obliging girlfriend, going to parties I didn't
want to go to and talking to people I didn't want to talk to,
to make my boyfriend look good.

But standing there with my stockings falling down and my shirt
half-buttoned, while Mr. Perfect gave me the
what-has-my-stupid-girlfriend-gotten-herself-into-now look, a
new Brenda Scott woke up.

This Brenda Scott threw back martinis and slept with men she
didn't know. This Brenda Scott was wild, sexy, and
daring-this Brenda was a woman who could do anything.

I looked Mr. Perfect right in the eye.

"Hey, Larry," I said. "Hand me my bra, will you?"


Excerpted from Confessions of a Lingerie Addict
by Jennifer Ashley
Copyright © 2005 by Jennifer Ashley.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Confessions of a Lingerie Addict 3.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 8 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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Guest More than 1 year ago
After being dumped by 'Mr. Perfect', aka, Larry, Brenda goes to a New Year's Party and gets smashed. When she wakes up in a strange hotel room, naked, next to a man she does not know, she begins to change her life. Her first step is to buy sexy lingerie. In fact, she amasses quite a collection of it as the weeks pass. Meanwhile, she does not know who the stranger was, just that he looked darn good. Then, she meets him. He has no idea who she is either, other than the woman he woke up with after getting too drunk. However, Nick, as he is named, has been looking for her since that night. Like Brenda, he's a DJ on a rival station, and just coming out of a bad relationship. Their dating life starts off well, so much so that their respective bosses, especially Brenda's, snatch it up as a cross station promo opportunity. On the day of the highly publicized date, Brenda fails to show up. Her mother has also begun dating, a man Brenda's age, and it's hard for her to cope with. Nick does forgive her, and they continue to see each other, but it's not without problems. Brenda's family is being torn to shreds by conflict over the fact that her mom is dating her brother's ex best friend. Said brother is in the middle of a bad divorce, dating her roommate, and somehow gets arrested in Mexico. Bailing him out requires the help of Mr. Perfect, who now wants her back. There's also the station manager whose hair trigger temper goes off without warning, and who has been known to literally feed DJ's to the sharks. ................. Most chick lit isn't worth your time. However, Making It is the exception to that rule. Each book is filled with crazy, realistic incidents that work together to 'make it' a great read. This is true of Confessions of a Lingerie Addict as well.
harstan More than 1 year ago
On December 31, wealthy Larry ¿Mr. Perfect¿ Bryant ends his relationship with San Diego KCLP DJ Brenda Scott. Depressed she comes home where she joins her roommate Clarissa¿s New Year¿s Eve party. The next morning, Brenda awakens to find a hunk in her bed; she has no idea who he is or how he got there or even the slightest details.................... Feeling a bit better about turning into a wild woman at least for a night and she hopes that wild is the apropos word as she remembers nothing after several martinis, Brenda has become fixated on women¿s lingerie wearing sexy expensive items under her business apparel to remind her that she is the mouse that roared. However, two months since the life changing event, Brenda meets the hunk again. Nick Jordan thinks Brenda is a wild woman unaware of her real past. Besides wanting to strip off her clothing, he strips away her secrets to include her lunatic boss, her failed brother, her sex driven mother, and her obsession as he falls in love with his Brenda that make her his Ms. Perfect................ CONFESSIONS OF A LINGERIE ADDICT is a lighthearted contemporary romance. Brenda is a nice person helping others cope and coping herself by wearing sexy underwear that makes her feel more desirable. Nick is her terrific stud who slowly learns all of his beloved¿s secrets and falls in love with each Brenda he uncovers. Jennifer Ashley writes a warm amusing romp that is fun to follow as Nick peels away the complex layers that make up Brenda while wanting to add him as the biggest most loving piece of the puzzle............... Harriet Klausner