By Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Sugar Beth Carey's come again to Parrish, Mississippi, and she's introduced her recognition for wreaking havoc together with her. She's broke, determined, and too proud to teach it, in spite of her outdated enemies lining up for an opportunity to get even. Her former girlfriends have their eyebrow pencils sharpened into deadly issues. Winnie Davis, her longtime rival, is totally armed with the money, strength, and status that had as soon as been Sugar Beth's. yet worst of all is Colin Byrne, the fellow whose profession Sugar Beth had destroyed -- and never precisely unintentionally. Now Colin's a well-known novelist dwelling in Sugar Beth's previous mansion, and this contemporary day darkish prince is utilizing his writer's mind's eye to determine tips on how to carry the town's attractive former princess to her knees. yet regardless of her sassy mouth, feisty spirit, and hardheaded methods, Sugar Beth's now not the spoiled wealthy woman all of them be mindful. No, now she's a lady to be reckoned with ... and an outstanding sizeable reckonin' is ready to take place, no longer least of all in favour of one darkish prince who may -- simply could -- be considering falling in love with the wickedest lady on the town. Ain't She candy? A humorous, heartwarming, oh-so-spicy tale of affection, friendship, and the potential for happily-ever-after.
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Extra info for Ain't She Sweet?
And she was gone. He stood there without moving. The scent of her—spice, sex, obstinacy—lingered in the air even after the front door shut. That ugly kiss should have put an end to it. Instead, it had started things up all over again. At eighteen, she was the most beautiful creature anyone in Parrish had ever seen. Watching her saunter up the sidewalk to the front doors of Parrish High was watching sexual artistry in motion: those endless legs, the sway of her hips, bounce of her breasts, dazzle of her long blond hair.
He’d dashed off an eloquent essay that vastly exaggerated his interest in teaching, gathered up glowing references from several of his professors, and attached the first twenty pages of the novel he’d barely started, figuring—rightly so, as it turned out—that a state with such an impressive literary heritage would favor a writer. A month later he’d received word that he’d been accepted, and not long after that, he was on his way to Mississippi. He’d fallen in love with the bloody place the first day—its hospitality and traditions, its small-town charm.
Gordon moved fast when he wanted to, and he shot ahead of her up the three steps onto the small porch. The green-and-gold wooden plaque Aunt Tallulah’s handyman had hammered into the brick forty years earlier still held a place of honor next to the front door. DURING THE SUMMER OF 1954, THE GREAT AMERICAN ABSTRACT EXPRESSIONIST ARTIST LINCOLN ASH PAINTED HERE. And left Tallulah a valuable work of art that now belonged to her niece, Sugar Beth Carey Tharp Zagurski Hooper. A painting that Sugar Beth needed to find as quickly as possible.