By Grégoire Delacourt
Jocelyne, dite Jo, rêvait d’être styliste à Paris. Elle est mercière à Arras. Elle aime les jolies silhouettes mais n’a pas tout à fait los angeles taille model. Elle aime les livres et écrit un web publication de dentellières. Sa mère lui manque et toutes les six mins son père, malade, oublie sa vie.
Elle attendait le prince charmant et c’est Jocelyn, dit Jo, qui s’est présenté. Ils ont ecu deux enfants, perdu un ange, et ce deuil a déréglé les choses entre eux. Jo (le mari) est devenu merciless et Jo (l’épouse) a courbé l’échine. Elle est restée. Son amour et sa persistence ont european raison de los angeles méchanceté.
Jusqu’au jour où, grâce aux voisines, les jolies jumelles de Coiff’Esthétique, 18.547.301€ lui tombent dessus. Ce jour-là, elle gagne beaucoup. Peut-être.
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Extra info for La liste de mes envies
It had taken her years to worm her way into Little Hyssop’s good graces, and she didn’t have the patience now for the subterfuge. But the most troublesome aspect was if Deb contacted her—or even, miracle of miracles, returned the bloody necklace—she wouldn’t know it. She might be on the run for the next six months. The candle wavered as she heaved a sigh. She would think better on a full stomach. But when she reached the top of the steps that led down to the kitchen, she nearly tumbled straight down when she heard the laughter.
He bent over and began to lick the raspberries and whipped cream from her belly. She tried to lie still—she did, really, but when the tip of his tongue circled her navel, then dipped in, she jumped. Apparently finished with her stomach, he scooped more from the bowl and rubbed a dollop of pink on one nipple, then stood back to admire his handiwork. “This is outrageous! ” “I quite agree. ” He decorated the other breast as well, heaping a mound of raspberry-streaked cream on her aureole. Charlotte knew her nipples were stiff with cold and decadence.
That’s the hole in their grand security scheme. As if men can control themselves and their tallywags until dark. Of course, most of the Janes respect the gentlemen who’ve set them up here and don’t dally unless that’s what their gentlemen want them to do so they can watch. ” Mrs. Kelly put the tart down on a linen napkin. “I suppose I can’t really blame her. She saw her chance to catch a husband. Lord knows, Sir Michael might never marry again, and he’s sure not to marry a whore. ” Bread stuck in Charlotte’s throat.