The Bonk Squad by Kris Pearson

sound a bit more interesting than just
‘mother of a son’s friend/librarian/good boobs/available’. She
gulped a brave breath. “And these days I write them,
too.”
    He sharpened his inspection of her.
Especially of her newly-inflated breasts. “Published?”
    She gave a regretful shrug. “Not yet.
Trying hard.”
    “ What do you
write?”
    Here she faltered a little.
“Relationships—new beginnings,” she said, hedging around the
truth.
    “ Soppy romances?” One
corner of his mouth quirked.
    “ Don’t you dare laugh!” she snapped.
“Huge market, Al. Good money if I’m lucky. Which I may never be.
The competition is incredible.”
    He reached across and clasped her
hand. “Go for it.”
    Meg relaxed with gratitude. “I’m
surprising myself so much. I’m absolutely hooked. I’ve always read,
but never written. And now I can’t leave it alone.”
    “ Ben’s mentioned
it.”
    She sharpened her gaze. “Is he
complaining? Am I neglecting him?”
    He shook his head. “Not at all.
Absolutely not. He’s very proud of you.”
    “ I bet he didn’t tell you
what I was writing?”
    “ Weeelll...no...not
quite.”
    She sighed. “If you research the book
market, Al, you’d see it’s the very best option for me. More than
forty percent of all published novels are romances, one way or
another.”
    His big eyebrows rose in surprise.
“What about science fiction? And all these forensic crime things
that seem to be the rage? Or the vampires and dragons and
werewolves Michael’s been so hooked on?”
    She looped the chain necklace around
her fingers, and watched his gaze slide down to her breasts again.
“No, romance is the answer. Everyone loves a happy ending, even if
they won’t admit it. When their own lives are crappy, they want to
escape somewhere with nice clothes and beautiful houses and
good-looking people.” She grinned, and released the necklace. “And
have the satisfaction of knowing how it’s going to end long before
the characters in the book work it out. They do put themselves
through hoops. It’s such fun being the one to pull the
strings.”
    “ Yup—Ben said you were
right into it. Don’t put me into any of your stories. I’m nobody’s
ideal man.”
    “ I think you’ll be safe
enough. The heroes need to be desert sheikhs, or wealthy shipping
magnates or classy French Counts and so on. I’ve got an Italian
billionaire on the go right now. I could use your body for him, I
suppose.” She inspected him over the table, head on one
side.
    “ Are you undressing me?” he
asked with suspicion.
    She nodded, eyes far away.

    Carlo strode into the
children’s quarters, rigid with fury. He’d seen their game from the
balcony of his study. His children had played under the garden hose
like a pair of ill-educated peasants. And the nanny encouraged
them! They’d squealed together like flapping birds—even his son,
Antonio—running through the spraying water with shrieks of
enjoyment.
    Did the boy not realize he
was the scion of a noble and wealthy family? Decorum was a
necessary part of his life. Did the chit of a girl, the English
Angela, not know this? He needed to put her straight.
    He slammed the door behind
him—and froze. The nanny was barely dressed. She glistened with
water as she pulled off her sodden clothing. And gasped as Carlo
came to a sudden standstill.
    She was slender, pale,
delicate, and quite the most lovely young woman he’d ever seen.
Fragile and smooth as porcelain. His long fingers itched to caress
her.
    Angela moaned and
attempted to cover herself, but her hands were tiny and hid very
little.
    Lust demolishing his
manners, Carlo stepped closer, taking her hands in his own and
wrenching them away from her up-tilted breasts so he could gaze his
fill. The tiny wisp of damp silk and French lace left nothing to
his imagination, merely outlining her with charming
clarity.
    Embarrassed, she attempted
to turn aside, but he held her with an iron grasp, drinking in