Promotions director Reese Regan isn't a sex goddess and doesn't want to be. But the job of her dreams requires her enrollment in renowned Sex Goddess 101. To avoid a trip to the unemployment line, Reese must pass the program and become Chicago's next seductress--or at least fake it convincingly. Her best friend, the ruggedly sexy contractor Ben Hawk, helps her "fake" her way through the program, and the heat between them flares. When trust is broken and secrets are revealed, it appears they've traded years-long friendship for temporary passion. Will faking something so important cost them their chance at something real?
Accidental Sex Goddess
“Do you consider yourself a Sex Goddess?”
Reese Regan looked up at one of the most influential women in Chicago and said, “Excuse me?”
Halie McCormack tucked a lock of platinum hair behind her ear. “Do you consider yourself a Sex Goddess?”
Was that a trick question?
Reese chewed on her lip. Was there a right way to answer that question when it was asked by the president and founder of Sex Goddess, Inc.? “I—I don’t know.”
Halie smirked. “Try it on for size.”
She tapped the brochure in Reese’s hand. “The first step of my program is the only step that is the same for everyone. Say it out loud.”
Reese squirmed. Do I have to? Probably, if she didn’t want to alienate the woman who held in her manicured hands the success of the WJRK Charity Masquerade Ball.
“I am a Sex Goddess,” Reese said. Wouldn’t it being nice if saying something like that made it true? I am a Sex Goddess or I am a size six. Or, heck, how about I am a size six Sex Goddess heiress with an inheritance the size of Texas.
“Say it like you mean it,” Halie said. “Saying it doesn’t help if you don’t believe it. Try again.”
Halie’s office grew twenty degrees warmer. Heat crept into Reese’s cheeks, and a drop of perspiration trickled down her leg. Oh yeah, she was feeling super sexy.
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