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 She's broke, determined, and too proud to teach it, despite her outdated enemies lining up for an opportunity to get even.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 occupation Sugar Beth had destroyed -- and never precisely by chance. Now Colin's a recognized novelist residing in Sugar Beth's outdated mansion, and this contemporary day darkish prince is utilizing his writer's mind's eye to determine the right way to convey the town's appealing former princess to her knees. yet regardless of her sassy mouth, feisty spirit, and hardheaded methods, Sugar Beth's not the spoiled wealthy lady all of them consider. No, now she's a lady to be reckoned with ... and a very good mammoth reckonin' is ready to occur, no longer least of fascinated with one darkish prince who could -- simply could -- be wondering falling in love with the wickedest woman on the town. Ain't She candy? A humorous, heartwarming, oh-so-spicy tale of affection, friendship, and the opportunity of happily-ever-after.
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Additional info for Ain't She Sweet?
She turned up the heater on her ancient Volvo against the chill of the late February day. “Griffin and Diddie Carey ruled this town, and I was their princess. ” She heard an imaginary howl of basset hound laughter. Like the row of tin-roofed houses she’d just passed, Sugar Beth had grown a little shabby at the edges. The long blond hair that swirled to her shoulders didn’t gleam as brightly as it once had, and the tiny gold hearts at her earlobes no longer skipped in a carefree dance. Her pouty lips had lost the urge to curl in flirtatious smiles, and her baby doll cheeks had given up their innocence three husbands ago.
Inside were twelve place settings of Gorham’s Chantilly sterling. Every other month for as long as Sugar Beth could remember, Tallulah had used the iced tea spoons for her Wednesday morning canasta group. Sugar Beth wondered how much twelve place settings of Chantilly sterling could bring on the open market. Not nearly enough. She needed the painting. She had to pee, and she was hungry, but she couldn’t wait any longer to see the studio. The rain hadn’t let up, so she grabbed a funky old beige sweater Tallulah had left by the door, draped it around her shoulders, and ducked back outside.
But running was another of life’s luxuries she could no longer afford, right along with throwing hissy fits and maxing out her credit cards. The contempt that tightened the corners of his thin lips told her he understood exactly how much his invitation stung. Knowing he expected her to stomp off gave her the determination to set her shoulders and step over the threshold…into Frenchman’s Bride. He’d ruined it. She saw that right away. Another beautiful Southern home ravished by a foreign marauder.