The Sassy One (Marcelli Sisters Series #2)

( 77 )

Overview

For the Marcelli sisters of California wine country, the season is ripe for romance!
Francesca Marcelli married at eighteen — right on schedule, according to her warm, colorful family, who have always said a beauty like Francesca need never worry about finding love. But a few years later, finding herself on her own with a wide open future ahead of her, she pursues her educational passions — with a risky experiment that takes her straight into the arms of playboy CEO Sam Reese. ...

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The Sassy One

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Overview

For the Marcelli sisters of California wine country, the season is ripe for romance!
Francesca Marcelli married at eighteen — right on schedule, according to her warm, colorful family, who have always said a beauty like Francesca need never worry about finding love. But a few years later, finding herself on her own with a wide open future ahead of her, she pursues her educational passions — with a risky experiment that takes her straight into the arms of playboy CEO Sam Reese. Delighted by Francesca's interest in a no-strings relationship, Sam suddenly finds himself needing her outside the bedroom when a secret from his past lands on his doorstep. But Francesca soon has a secret of her own to tell — a bombshell that will force the diehard bachelor to show his true colors. Are there "I do"s in Sam and Francesca's future? Only if she can persuade him that home truly is where the heart finds happiness.

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
Christina Dodd Smart, sexy entertainment.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780743443951
  • Publisher: Pocket Star
  • Publication date: 10/1/2003
  • Series: Marcelli Sisters of Pleasure Road Series , #2
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 352
  • Sales rank: 300,798
  • Product dimensions: 6.70 (w) x 4.30 (h) x 1.00 (d)

Meet the Author

Susan Mallery

New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery has entertained millions of readers with her witty and emotional stories about women. Publishers Weekly calls Susan’s prose “luscious and provocative,” and Booklist says “Novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humor and superb storytelling.” Susan lives in Seattle with her husband and her tiny but intrepid toy poodle. Visit her at www.SusanMallery.com.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1

Francesca Marcelli had only been pregnant for twenty minutes and already her back hurt.

"Talk about realistic," she muttered, adjusting the straps that held her fake eight-months-pregnant belly in place. The size was daunting enough — she couldn't see her feet or find a comfortable sitting position — but the weight was the real killer. Someone with a twisted sense of humor had decided to simulate what felt like the pressure of a baby elephant. The small of her back screamed out in protest, while unexpected pressure on her bladder made her want to duck into the nearest ladies' room.

"All for a good cause," she reminded herself.

Francesca shifted to ease the throbbing in her back and leaned against the heavy cart she'd maneuvered into the service elevator of the six-story bank building. When the doors opened, she shoved her overloaded cart into the main hallway. Stacks of boxes wobbled precariously and threatened to tumble onto the carpeted floor.

It was just after five on a Friday afternoon. All around her dozens of businesspeople headed for the main elevators to start their weekend. Francesca pushed up her glasses and paused to smooth down the front of the ugliest maternity dress she'd been able to find. The oversize collar dwarfed her shoulders and made her head look too small. The pinks and roses of the busy floral print sucked all the color from her pale olive skin. She'd brushed powder into her hair to lighten it to a mousy brown. The little makeup she'd put on had been applied to make her look tired, drawn, and unattractive.

She glanced at her watch, then squared her shoulders as she prepared to begin work.

"Show time," she said softly, not that anyone was listening.

Three men from the insurance office at the end of the hall walked past her without even giving her a nod. Francesca continued to push her pile of packages slowly against the flow of foot traffic. Two women in suits gave her a quick, sympathetic smile. A man and a woman, both carrying expensive-looking briefcases, followed. The woman looked, the man didn't.

Another corridor branched to the left. Francesca shifted her cart to make the turn. Several boxes went tumbling. A single man walked by without breaking his stride. A college-age girl stopped long enough to help Francesca pick up the boxes, then hurried toward the elevator with a call to "Wait for me!"

Five minutes later Francesca reached her destination — an office she'd scouted out the previous week, chosen because the company had recently shut down. There she was, pregnant, lost, overloaded with more than a dozen boxes to be delivered, and no one to accept them. Had she been any sort of an actress, she might have been able to force out a tear or two.

The rules stipulated she was not allowed to directly ask for help. It had to be offered. She would wait for the required thirty minutes, mentally tallying who ignored her, who smiled, and who, if anyone, stopped to actually offer assistance.

This was a high-powered crowd with expensive tastes and busy lives. She didn't hold out much hope for rescue. In her experience —

"You look lost."

Francesca whirled around to see a tall man standing beside her cart. A tall, good-looking man in a dark blue power suit.

"Hi," she said before preparing to launch into her canned speech about needing to deliver packages to a nonexistent firm. Except she couldn't remember anything she was supposed to say.

The man waited patiently. He had dark blond hair and sort of tawny-colored eyes. There was an intensity to his expression that reminded her of predators watching prey. A shiver rippled through her as she thought of gazelles being brought down for the kill. Unfortunately in her current condition she was more water buffalo than gazelle.

He looked confident, important, and powerful. Not the sort of person who should be stopping to help an unattractive pregnant woman in trouble. Men like him sent assistants to take care of life's unpleasant details.

"Do you speak English?" he asked, enunciating each word clearly.

"What? Oh. Of course." She sucked in a breath, not sure what could be wrong with her. She would blame her sudden mental hiccup on food poisoning, only she hadn't eaten anything that day. "I'm, ah — " Francesca cleared her throat. Brain function returned and she launched into her spiel.

"Hi. I'm Francesca. I'm supposed to be delivering these packages here — " She motioned to the closed and locked office door. "But there seems to be a problem."

The man glanced first at the boxes, all carefully addressed to the defunct company, then to the door where a hand-lettered sign said that Malcolm and White Data Tech was no more.

"Bringing these here was the last thing my boss told me to do before he left town," she went on. "If I don't get them delivered, he's going to kill me."

In an effort to look terrified, Francesca thought about how little she had in her checking account and how that pesky electric bill was going to come due soon. Eventually she would reap the rewards of her postgraduate education, but until she could actually slap the letters Ph.D. after her name, she seemed destined to a life of poverty.

"You'll have to risk his fury," the man said calmly. "These boxes aren't going anywhere today. That company closed the door about ten days ago. From what I've heard, the main players skipped town with the last few dollars left, leaving several employees with lots of angry customers and no paychecks. What's your name again?"

"Francesca Marcelli."

He smiled at her. A genuine, happy-to-meet-you smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and caused her palms to suddenly start to sweat. This was the most fun she'd had in days.

Her rescuer introduced himself as Sam Reese.

"Let's get you out of this hallway, and we'll figure out what we're going to do next."

We? They were a we?

Sam took charge of the cart, wheeling it down the hallway with an ease that made her envious. Of course, he didn't have to worry about a pregnant belly getting in the way of his actions. She trailed after him, wondering what the next step would be. How far was Sam willing to take things? In situations like this — a nonemergency — people generally stopped at the point of inconvenience.

"Just through there," he said, pointing to a set of double glass doors.

Before Francesca could read the name of the company, one of the doors opened and a huge man stepped into the hallway. She involuntarily came to a stop to stare.

The man had to be at least six feet seven. He was built like a mountain with a massive neck and shoulders broad enough to support a couple of trailer homes. Dark-skinned, with penetrating eyes and a firm, unsmiling mouth, he looked both dangerous and more than a little scary.

"Sam," the man said, glancing between her rescuer and herself. "Is there a problem?"

"I think there might be." Sam looked back at her. "Ms. Marcelli was trying to make a delivery to Malcolm and White."

"They split last week."

"As I explained to Ms. Marcelli." He motioned to the cart. "Take this inside, Jason. Store it in one of the conference rooms." He turned his attention back to her. "If your employer's expecting payment for a delivery, that isn't going to happen. At least not right now. Come on inside and we'll get this situation straightened out."

Francesca found herself being ushered into a plush office with a gray and burgundy waiting area. An attractive woman in her early forties manned the front desk. She spoke over a headset as they walked by, pausing only to nod at Sam.

"I can search out Malcolm and White," Sam said as they moved down a long corridor decorated with elegant prints and the occasional slim table pushed up against a wall. "I've been looking for an excuse to track them down."

He sounded fierce as he spoke, as if he had a personal beef with the missing businessmen. Francesca trailed after him, torn between wondering why Sam Reese would care if a company in his building closed and trying to figure out what she'd gotten herself into. They passed several large conference rooms, what looked like classrooms, and a few offices containing large desks, computers, and file cabinets. All generic stuff that didn't hint at the kind of business done here.

At the end of the hall they made a left, then a quick right before stopping in front of an open foyer containing a large desk and computer setup manned by a well-dressed young man wearing a sport coat.

"Jack, this is Ms. Marcelli."

The young man, probably around twenty-five and built like a football player, rose to his feet. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Francesca walked to the desk to shake hands. As she did so, her purse slipped down her arm and plopped onto the ground before she could catch it.

"Oops," she said, bending down to pick it up.

As she straightened, all the blood rushed from her head, causing the room to spin and her body to sway. For a split second she thought she was going down.

Less than a heartbeat later a strong arm encircled her, holding her in place. "Ms. Marcelli? Are you all right? Is it the baby?"

Baby? What...oh, the baby.

Francesca shook her head slightly. Her sense of equilibrium returned enough for her to realize she was standing amazingly close to Sam. Close enough to see the surprisingly dark lashes framing his eyes. Speaking of which — she stared more intently — seen from such a close range, his eyes were the most unusual color. Light brown, shot with gold. Otherworldly eyes. Cat eyes.

Cat eyes on a powerful man. She felt both the heat of him and the strength. Somehow she'd always assumed that executives in expensive suits were sort of wimpy under all that designer wool. She had been seriously wrong.

"Ms. Marcelli?"

Tension filled his voice. She shook her head again and tried to shrug free of his hold. When he didn't release her, she gave him a quick smile.

"I'm fine."

"You nearly fainted."

"I know. I haven't eaten today. I do that sometimes. Work distracts me. Then I get low blood sugar."

"That can't be good for the child."

As there was no child, his concern made her feel a little guilty.

"I'm fine," she repeated. "Really."

He slowly removed his arm from around her waist. "Jack, bring Ms. Marcelli some herb tea. There's a selection in the coffee room. Nothing with caffeine. Also, check to see if there are any sandwiches left from the lunch meeting."

Francesca thought about protesting again, but before she could figure out what to say without blowing her cover, she found herself being ushered into an office the size of Utah.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of Santa Barbara and mountains from one wall and Santa Barbara and a hint of ocean from the other. Tasteful paintings decorated the remaining walls. Two large leather sofas formed a conversational area in a corner. Between them and the desk was enough room to hold a kickboxing class.

Sam settled her on the sofa, then sat next to her. Before she knew what was going on, he had her hand resting in his and his fingers on the inside of her wrist.

"Your pulse is rapid. Would you like me to call your doctor?"

She generally went to student health services whenever she needed a checkup. Somehow she didn't think her friendly chitchat with the nurse practitioner qualified as having a doctor of her own.

Although she would have to admit that having her hand cradled by a handsome man held a certain thrill. He was warm, solid, and plenty sexy. Had she looked slightly more appealing than something gacked up by a stray cat, she might have tried smiling, flirting, and witty conversation. Not that she could think of anything witty right at the moment.

"No doctor calling," she insisted, reluctantly drawing her hand free of his. "There's nothing wrong with me. Although I have been taking up too much of your time."

She started to rise. Sam kept her in her seat with nothing more than a steady gaze.

"Have some tea," he said. "You'll feel better."

Both were an order.

Before she could protest, Jack appeared carrying a tray. There was a steaming mug of tea, along with a wrapped deli sandwich.

"We only have turkey left," the young man said apologetically as he set the tray on the glass coffee table.

The small amount of guilt she'd felt before doubled in size. "Look. You're being really nice — both of you. But there's no need to fuss."

The men ignored her. "Get on the computer," Sam told his assistant. "See if you can track down either Malcolm or White. You'll find a file in the usual place." He turned his considerable attention back to her. "You said your boss had left for the day. How do you get in touch with him? I want to let him know that the boxes can't be delivered. I'll also make arrangements for them to be returned to him." His fierce expression softened slightly. "He should never have left you to take care of them yourself."

"I didn't mind," she said weakly, feeling the floor beneath her crumbling into quicksand. In a matter of seconds she was going to sink so deep, no one would ever find her. "And you can't get in touch with him. He's, um, heading for the airport. To, ah, get on a plane."

She mentally winced. Lying had never come easily to her. Heading to the airport to get on a plane? Why else did people go to the airport?

Francesca sighed. Somehow this experiment had gotten out of hand. According to her research, Sam shouldn't have stopped to help her, and he should never have taken things this far. The man was messing with her data.

"What airline? What flight?" He pulled a small leather-covered notebook from his jacket pocket.

Francesca didn't know what to say. "You won't be able to track him down."

"Try me."

Uh-oh. She was in way over her head. She gave Jack a frantic "rescue me" look which he either didn't get or chose to ignore. Jason, the big and strong, poked his head in the office to inform them that he'd put the boxes in Conference Room 2. Jack disappeared with Jason, closing the door behind them. Leaving her very much alone with a man obviously capable of ruling the universe.

"So, Ms. Marcelli, your boss's flight? His name would help, as well."

"Please call me Francesca," she said and reached for the tea. Her stomach growled, but she refused to touch the sandwich. Not while she was here under false pretenses. "Can you really get in contact with someone on a plane?"

"If I have to. It would be easier to reach him before he left. Is he driving down to Los Angeles, or taking a corporate flight out of Santa Barbara."

Francesca thought of all the times she'd created situations to find out if strangers would take the trouble to stop and help her. She'd had nice old ladies offer her rides, friendly couples give her directions, even the odd schoolkid help her find a lost dog. But never had anyone taken things as far as Sam Reese.

She drew in a deep breath. "You've been great," she said. "Really terrific. I don't know how to thank you."

His tawny gaze settled on her face. She regretted her dull-colored hair and oversize glasses, not to mention the deliberately unflattering makeup. Successful, gorgeous men like him didn't much inhabit her grad-school world. Why couldn't she have put on her sexy biker-girl disguise today instead of ugly-pregnant-woman?

Sam waited patiently. As if he had all the time in the world. As if he was used to people being reluctant to give up information.

"If you don't want me to track down your boss, that's your decision," he said. "At least eat something. For the baby, if not for yourself."

She really wished he would stop mentioning the pregnancy. Okay, so in all the years she'd been doing this sort of thing, she'd never once been put in a position of coming clean, but hey, this wasn't her fault. She was being overwhelmed by guilt. Well, guilt and a more-than-mild attraction to a handsome guy.

"I'm not pregnant," she said.

His gaze never left her face. One point for his side. She pulled off her glasses and tossed them on the table. It was a small gesture of vanity, but under the circumstance — wearing the world's ugliest dress, sensible shoes, and an unflattering hairstyle — it was the best she could do.

"I'm a grad student studying social psychology. I observe how people react under different circumstances. In my work I'm trying to see if social standing, appearance, or gender influence behavior."

Sam tucked his notepad back into his jacket pocket. One eyebrow rose slightly. "Will busy people eager to get home on a Friday afternoon stop and help a pregnant woman?"

"Exactly."

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. She wanted to say something stupid, like she cleaned up real well, but held back.

"What's in the boxes?"

She cleared her throat. "Mixed paper recycling."

"You deliberately chose to address them to a company that had recently closed?"

"Yes."

This time his gaze dropped to her protruding stomach. "And that?"

"A medical condition."

His eyes widened.

She laughed softly. "Just kidding. It's a device to simulate pregnancy. I borrowed it from a maternity store. Women use it to see how clothes will look as the baby gets bigger."

He picked up the glasses and glanced through the lenses. "Clear."

He smiled. A slow, sexy smile that made her long to trade in her black sensible shoes for a pair of red strappy sandals.

"I'm not an easy man to fool, Francesca," he told her. "In fact, I can't think of the last time someone did. You're impressive. The fainting was a nice touch."

She shrugged. "Actually that part was real. I haven't eaten all day and that messes with my blood sugar."

He motioned to her protruding belly. "You spend your day like this in the name of scientific research?"

"I don't always dress up with a pregnancy belly. Sometimes I go out in a wheelchair, or tattoos and black leather."

He leaned back against the sofa. "That would stop traffic."

She smiled. "That depends on where I am." She reached for the tea. "There have been dozens of studies done about the effect of appearance on behavior. Do you know that more people will stop to help an attractive person than an unattractive one?"

"Men are visual creatures."

"But it's not just men. Women do it, too. I'm studying — " She stopped and put down her tea. "Sorry. I get on a roll. My studies fascinate me."

"I can see why. Who are you going to be tomorrow? If your costume involves black leather, feel free to stop by."

She laughed. "Actually I'm supposed to be done with the research phase. My project for the summer is to write my dissertation. But the thought of spending all that time at the computer makes my skin crawl, so I've been putting it off."

"What do you want me to do with the boxes?"

"Oh. I can take them with me. I need to return the cart, too. I borrowed it from the building maintenance guy."

"So he gets full points for helping out the pregnant lady?"

"Absolutely."

"What about me?"

Sam had a great voice, Francesca thought as a shiver rippled through her. Deep, rich, seductive.

"You get bonus points," she told him.

"Good to know." He angled toward her. "How about I let you keep the points and in return you join me for dinner tonight?"

Under normal circumstances Francesca never would have accepted the invitation. She didn't know Sam Reese from a rock. Yes, he was plenty appealing, but in the scheme of things, did that really matter?

"Dumb question," she murmured as she maneuvered her truck through the early evening Santa Barbara traffic. It was early June, with the tourist season in full swing. Sidewalks were crowded, restaurants full, and traffic moved at a crawl down State Street.

"Appeal matters."

So did those cat eyes, the tempting smile, and easy conversation. But the real reason she'd said yes was she needed to have sex. After all, a promise was a promise.

Francesca grinned as she thought of Sam's reaction if she'd told him that particular truth. Would he have bolted for safety or started unbuttoning his shirt? She liked to think it would be the latter, but she'd taken a good look at herself when she'd gone home to change and her out-loud shriek hadn't been from pleasure. Nope, the man would have run for his life.

One shower with three shampoos to get the powder out of her hair, a quick change of clothes, and a light dusting of makeup later, she was ready to if not dazzle, then at least intrigue. She figured with as bad as she'd looked before, anything would be an improvement.

So she was off to dazzle Sam Reese and see what she could do about keeping her promise...the one she'd made to have sex with the next attractive, single man to cross her path.

Copyright © 2003 by Susan Macias Redmond

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Table of Contents

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 77 )
Rating Distribution

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(34)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 78 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 28, 2003

    Another Great One

    Another great one from susan mallery the second book is just as great as the first...I love when she does family books that connect you will enjoy it

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 24, 2012

    Hardy 2

    Mom put down her whisk and kissed dad. I looked away. "Happy birthday, Mixy!" He smiled, kissing my forehead. Something dropped onto my lap. It was a small package wrapped in blue and gold striped wrapping paper. "Thanks Dad!" I cried, grabbing and studying the present. It was not very big and was shaped like a square. "Go ahead, open it," urged mom from the kitchen, flipping the last batch of pancakes. I carefully tore off the paper. It was a silver box. I opened it. Two earrings shaped as figure eights were nestled in soft cotton. They were turquoise with silver hooks attatched to the back. "These are amazing!" I breathed. I made a mental note to wear these with my dress today. "I thought you would like them," dad smiled. "I found them in an Indian market." I hugged him. "Breakfast is ready," mom stated. Dad hung his black coat in the closet, took off his shoes, and sat at his seat at the head of the table. Mom came in and plopped the warm pancakes on the plate. I know it is a random time to say this, but we live in Australia. After a quick blessing, I grabbed a blueberry pancake off of the top of the pile with a serving fork. "How did it go in India?" Penny asked, grabbing a pancake of her own. "Well, it was difficult, but my client was proven innocent," he stated. "Yay!" Cried Penny, throwing her hands in the air. I spread butter on my pancake and then put an orange glob of peach jam on the top. "No elbows on the table, Penny," mom reminded her firmly. Penny swallowed guiltily. "Sorry," she murmured, putting her hands on her lap. "So, a little bird told me that someone was getting their savvy today," Dad began. I allowed myself to crack a smile. "I wonder what it will be!" Penny wondered. "Probably going to be something dumb," I sighed, taking a bite of fluffy pancake. "Hey, don't be like that," mom scolded. "Sorry," I shrugged. I finished my pancake and stood up. "I'm done," I called over my shoulder. Walking into the kitchen, I opened the dishwasher located under the real granite countertop. "Do your chores before you get ready!" Mom replied. I set my dishes into the dishwasher and closed it. I headed upstairs and entered the bathroom. The walls were a sandy tan color, and the counter was also granite. I grabbed my purple and white motorized tooth brush and put some Colgate spearmint flavored toothpaste onto it. My birthtime was actually at 8:08 p.m., I call it BOB. I brushed my teeth, scrubbed my face with a brown washcloth, and combed my hair with my favorite purple comb. I changed into a casual adidas t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans. Running down the stairs, I slipped on my black crocs. First I had to check on the chicken coop and clean it out. I walked outside and walked around the driveway. Our driveway curved in then circled around a tree and some white rose bushes. I headed for the backyard. We had our chicked coop on the side of the house. It was shaped like a triangular prism. Three caramel colored hens strutted around, clucking. Their names were Millie, Alice, and Velma. I leaned over to the front of the cage. The chickens clucked at me. Well, apparently I couldn't talk to animals. I scooped some food from a bucket nearby and put it in a nearby wooden trough. The hens all ran over, wings flapping wildly. As they pecked at the food, I cleared out the soiled hay and put fresh hay in. No eggs today. I shut the cage with a thwack. As weird as it may sound, my next chore was to clean out the damn.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 22, 2012

    Loved it as much as the first one. Finished it in less than 3 d

    Loved it as much as the first one. Finished it in less than 3 days. Can't wait to start on #3.

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  • Posted February 3, 2012

    Great book

    I recently got hooked on Susan Maller's books & I love this series.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 2, 2011

    Awesome!

    Part 2 of the Marcelli sisters...the story continues.

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  • Posted April 17, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    Sassy and Sexy

    I love the Marcelli family. This large,extended Italian/Irish family owns a world famous winery near Santa Barbara and there are four unmarried daughters; Katie, Francesca and Brenna (twins) and Mia. The Sassy One is Francesca's story. Married young and now a widow; she has decided to get her masters and while working on her thesis runs straight into the arms of Sam Reese the owner of a multi-million dollar security company. Sparks fly immediately and they decide to enter into a 'no-strings' relationship. Everything is great until Sam finds out he has a twelve year old daughter and Francesca turns up pregnant (even though the used protection). This is only my second Susan Mallery book -- the Sparkling One is Katies story and just as sexy as this one. The story is full of twists and turns and lots of hot sex! They girls are beauties and the men hot & hunky. I highly recommend any Susan Mallery books.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 10, 2010

    I Also Recommend:

    Loved this Susan Mallery Series

    This one was enjoyable because Francesca was so quirky and Sam was so straight laced. The vast difference between the two had the sparks flying. The relationship between the large Marcelli family is heartwarming and fun.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 4, 2010

    The Sassy One

    This was a surprisingly great read! I've tried one of her books in the past and was not impressed. But, this book wss well written and kept me engrossed the whole day. I read it all the way through. I highly recommend this great book!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 20, 2009

    excellent

    must read all in series

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    An enjoyable romance

    In Santa Barbara, research student widow Francesca Marcelli fakes being pregnant as part of an experiment to see if people would help her deliver packages. Males ignore her and females nod in empathy, but no one stops to assist her. When she reaches the empty offices of Malcolm and White Data Tech, she meets the CEO of Security International, Sam Reese. He takes her into his office, feeds her, and offers to hold the packages for now. She admits that she is a social psychology grad student wearing a fake device to emulate pregnancy.<P> Sam takes Francesca to dinner as they are attracted to one another. However, neither wants a long-term relationship though both their families encourage the widowed Francesca and the divorced Sam to marry. Even love may prove too weak to keep this couple together.<P> Though his ex returning seems only to raise unnecessary tension, fans will enjoy the second Marcelli sister tale. The story line is fun as the estrogen as in the first tale (see THE SPARKLING ONE) is at a fever pitch as it was with the first novel. The lead couple is a fine pair, who claims there not in love, but we, the families and Susan Mallory know better.<P> Harriet Klausner

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