Stephanie Bond - No Peeking...

Three women. Three fantasies.

Years ago Gemma, Zoe and Violet all took the same

college sex-ed class, one they laughingly referred to as

Sex for Beginners. It was an easy credit—not something

they’d ever need in real life. Or so they thought…

Their professor had them each write a letter, outlining

their most private, most outrageous sexual fantasies.

They never dreamed their letters would be returned

to them when they least expected it. Or that their own

words would change their lives forever…

Don’t miss Stephanie Bond’s newest miniseries:

Sex for Beginners

WATCH AND LEARN

(October 2008)

IN A BIND

(November 2008)

NO PEEKING…

(December 2008)

Sex for Beginners

What you don’t know…might turn you on!

Dear Reader,

Have you ever run across an old childhood diary or a note you wrote in high school or college? It can be fun, and even revealing, to see what you were thinking when you were younger, what things were important to you.

The seniors at Women’s Covington College who took the Sexual Psyche class (dubbed by the students as “Sex for Beginners”) were given an assignment to write down their innermost sexual fantasies in the form of a letter to themselves. Their letter was to be cataloged with a code for anonymity and remain sealed for ten years, then mailed to them.

Violet Summerlin, uptight owner of a personal concierge business, receives her letter just before Christmas, her busiest time of year. Yet the naughty words she wrote give her pause—she hasn’t experienced exciting out-of-the-bedroom sex as she’d fantasized. So when her best client, a sexy extreme-sports junkie, invites her to Miami for a working vacation, she accepts—with adrenaline-pumping results!

I hope you enjoy No Peeking…, the third book in the SEX FOR BEGINNERS trilogy. Please tell your friends about the wonderful stories you find between the pages of Harlequin novels! And visit me at www.stephaniebond.com.

Happy endings always,

Stephanie Bond

Stephanie Bond thinks the world would be a better place if only more people read romance novels! “My goal,” says Stephanie, “is to leave readers with a smile and a sigh.” To date, Stephanie has written more than forty romance and mystery novels, and doesn’t plan on slowing down anytime soon at what she considers to be “her dream job.” Stephanie lives in midtown Atlanta with her hunky architect/artist/hero husband.

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

2—TWO SEXY!

169—MY FAVORITE MISTAKE

282—JUST DARE ME…

338—SHE DID A BAD, BAD THING

428—WATCH AND LEARN

434—IN A BIND

MIRA BOOKS

BODY MOVERS

BODY MOVERS: 2 BODIES FOR THE PRICE OF 1

BODY MOVERS: 3 MEN AND A BODY

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

685—MANHUNTING IN MISSISSIPPI

718—CLUB CUPID

751—ABOUT LAST NIGHT…

769—IT TAKES A REBEL

805—SEEKING SINGLE MALE

964—COVER ME

For Chris, who still gets my heart pumping.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Six days until Christmas

“WHAT YOU NEED IS something warm and cuddly for Christmas.”

Violet Summerlin frowned into the cell phone she juggled on her shoulder, even though her friend Nan couldn’t see her. “I told you, I’m way too busy for a pet.” Then she looked down at the fluffy butterscotch-colored Pekingese she was walking in the park. “My own, anyway.”

Nan’s sigh sounded over the line. “I was talking about a man.”

“No time for one of those, either,” Violet quipped.

“You work way too hard. When are you going to start delegating things to your new assistant? Wasn’t that the idea of hiring her?”

Violet chewed on her lower lip. “I’m still feeling out Lillian. She’s nice, but her working style is different than mine.”

“You mean she isn’t anal retentive? Maybe this Lillian will help you to loosen up.”

“Christmas is one of my busiest times of the year. I can’t afford to loosen up right now.”

“Violet,” Nan said softly, “it might not be such a bad idea to slow down. Since you lost your grandparents…I don’t know. You seem wound even tighter than usual.”

“I miss them terribly,” Violet confessed. “Even with Mom and Dad back in town, sometimes I just feel so…lost.”

“I know, sweetie, but the hours that you work—it’s not healthy. You’re going to wake up one day and wish you’d indulged in a misspent youth.”

Violet stopped abruptly as the pooch came up short on the leash, wrinkling his little pug face. Winslow, the Pekingese, looked up at her and barked, a sharp noise that sounded like fabric ripping.

“Thanks for the advice, Nan, but I have to run. The dog won’t go if I’m on the phone.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. He’s a spoiled little thing and has to have my undivided attention to…you know.”

“I would laugh except I know old lady Kingsbury is probably paying you a fortune to do her bidding.”

“I’m a personal concierge, Nan. I do whatever my clients need me to do.”

“Especially that yummy Dominick Burns.”

Nan’s favorite subject was Violet’s best customer, who also happened to be the most notorious playboy in Atlanta. She ignored the little spike in her own pulse—she’d harbored a secret crush on the man for almost a year. “Until I’m successful enough to pick and choose my clients, I guess I have to put up with all kinds of animals,” she said lightly.

“Yeah, but no one’s going to get that man on a leash.” Nan was panting harder than Winslow.

“Is that the best you can come up with today?” Violet asked, her voice deadpan.

“No wonder his last name is Burns. The man is positively flammable, a four-alarm fire, burn me up and hose me down—”

“Good grief, woman, go take a cold shower.” Violet disconnected the call, cutting off Nan’s laughter, then squatted down to face Winslow, nose to snout.

“Okay, I’m all yours. Now, will you please do your business?”

The dog emitted a chastising little bark and angled his head.

Violet sighed, then glanced at her watch and caved like a wall of ice cream. Time was money, after all.

“You’re such a good boy,” she cooed in her best baby voice, petting his arrogant little head. “Yes, you are. You’re such a pretty, good boy. Yes, you are.”

Satisfied, Winslow assumed the position and Violet looked away with a wince.

Some days she questioned her decision to open Summerlin at Your Service, and this was one of those days—it had been an unending stream of tedious trips to the dry cleaners to pick up and drop off shirts, to courier offices to pack and send parcels, and to Patricia Kingsbury’s house to walk her contrary pet, Winslow, who pushed the boundaries of his breed’s reputation for willful and jealous behavior.

Luckily, most clients preferred to pay Violet’s premium fees to do things that were more productive, such as setting up a wireless network for their computer or decorating their house for the holidays. Raised by a grandfather who was an electronics and mechanical whiz and a grandmother who could give Martha Stewart a run for her money, Violet had honed her varied abilities with a masters in business administration and five years in the hospitality industry working assorted jobs, from customer service to operations. Since starting her concierge business three years ago, she prided herself on not having yet received a request from a client that she couldn’t fulfill.