Today on my blog I have the Little Black Dress tour. On my stop there is a spotlight, guest post, and excerpt. So let's get started and meet the author Scarlet:
Scarlet Chastain is the semi-secret pseudonym of a multi-published, best selling author of sensual erotic romance. Scarlet's focus is female-centric sizzling stories written about women, for women.
She lives in the suburban shadows of New York City but her heart belongs to the beaches of Key West. Scarlet can usually be found in her favorite chair of her newly acquired writing cave with her maltipoo, Coco.
Never underestimate the power of the little black dress...
Paris—the romance and fashion capital of the world. So what the hell makes Jamie Scotts, an IT geek from New York, think the city of lights holds the answers? Driven by need for change, she lies to her boss about her fluency in French and becomes the company’s first international sales person. Fluent? She can barely ask for directions to the ladies’ room.
Jamie’s a duck out of water with her low maintenance style and New York accent. Her unsuccessful sales pitch almost sends her home, until she meets the epitome of elegance—Giselle Bianchi. An unlikely relationship blossoms as the dress designer takes Jamie under her wing. Giselle’s guidance not only reveals Jamie’s missing je ne sais quoi, but also unlocks repressed passion with the help of a little black dress.
“I’ll call a taxi for you and have my courier deliver the clothes to your hotel tomorrow. You should take that great blouse and pleated skirt with you for tomorrow’s appointment. You look lovely in pink,” Giselle called as she headed down the hall without switching on the light. Jamie tried to follow Giselle’s rapid French as she listened to her call for a taxi. The piece of the conversation she made out was the address as Giselle returned to the front swinging two hangers from her index finger. Smiling, she held the blouse against Jamie’s body. Silky fabric slid across the backs of Jamie’s hands.
“I can’t thank you enough. For everything.” Jamie looked into the woman’s eyes, remembering the story Giselle told her at the restaurant. Depth and generosity were exactly what looked back at her.
“The pleasure is all mine.” She handed Jamie the hangers, grasped her shoulders and pulled her in. Jamie breathed deep and inhaled Giselle’s signature scent of orange and jasmine. Their bodies melded into one another as Giselle kissed Jamie on both cheeks. Her eyes locked with Giselle’s as they pulled away. Jamie wet her lips, lifted her head and closed the space between them. A horn sounded outside the door, startling the women.
Giselle smiled. “That’s your taxi.”
Jamie shook her head. Did she just make a move on Giselle? The effects of the wine made her woozy and she nodded as Giselle took her hand, leading her to the door. With a light squeeze of her hand she opened the door and a gust of wind hit Jamie’s face. She glanced back, craving the privacy of the dark shop and the warmth of Giselle’s embrace.
I’m Jamie Scotts from Little Black Dress. I arrived in Paris without knowing a soul or the language (as you can see below, I couldn’t even order ice for my soda). I met Giselle at a café when I was just about to give up and return to New York. Here’s how we met…
“Some ice please?” How the French drank their version of Diet Coke, called Coke Light, warm, she had no idea. Her tall glass of warm soda tasted as appetizing as a puddle on the street.
The waiter narrowed his eyes as he turned and glowered at Jamie. “Qu'est que c'est?”
“You know? Ice.” She lifted her glass.
He shook his head. “No English.”
“Forget it, just bring the check.”
“Oui, mademoiselle,” he grunted and left her table.
“Yeah, you understood that. Didn’t you?” Jamie called after him.
A hearty laugh filled her ears. “Monsieur, glace pour la mademoiselle, s’il vous plait.”
Jamie swung her head to the side understanding the women’s voice asking the waiter for Jamie’s ice. “And you understood that, didn’t you?” The woman’s lips curled upward and she winked.
Heat traveled up Jamie’s neck to her cheeks. “My comprehension is much better than my speech, I’m afraid. Thank you for ordering my ice. I’m getting sick of warm soda.”
The woman chuckled and tucked a strand of blonde hair around her ear. “It’s an acquired taste,” she said in an accent Jamie couldn’t quite place. “I overheard your phone call. Are you here on business?”
“I am, but I’m in over my head. I thought my elementary high school French would get me through sales calls out here. Apparently the French want to buy from other French.”
The blonde cocked her head. “Not necessarily, although they do want visitors to make an effort and earn their trust. Part of that is learning the language.” Jamie admired the woman’s outfit as she stood from her chair at the next table. A low cut cashmere sweater hugged her pert breasts and narrow waist. She could’ve walked out of a Paris fashion magazine ad with her black leather skirt and high boots. Jamie smoothed her plain slacks and tried to hide her sensible shoes as the blonde beauty approached her table. “May I?” Her hand waved over the empty chair at Jamie’s table.
“Please,” Jamie said straightening her posture.
“Je m’appelle Giselle, et toi?”
Giselle’s long manicured fingers stopped just inches from Jamie’s lips. “En francais.”
Jamie grinned. “Je m’appelle Jamie.”
Giselle and I became fast friends that day. She gave me a few tips to help my sales pitch as well as my style. You see, she is a dress designer and invited me to her studio for a wardrobe makeover. I never thought much about the things I wore until wearing Giselle’s designs. Here’s the scene where I first try on her version of a little black dress…
Jamie caught the first glance of the way the Giselle’s designs hung on her body. She twisted and turned, examining every inch of the outfit. “Wow.”
“Yes. Wow. You have a beautiful figure and you were covering your curves with clothing that was too big for you. Here, now let’s try this.” Giselle held a black knit dress.
“Oh. I don’t think I can wear anything like that,” Jamie said and waved her hand.
Giselle held the hanger in front of Jamie’s chest. “You don’t know unless you try.” Giselle tilted her head and furrowed her brow as her gazed traveled the length of Jamie’s body. “Yes. It’ll work. Trust me.”
“Okay,” Jamie said doubtfully. She unbuttoned the blouse and slipped it off her shoulders before easing out of the skirt.
“Lift your arms.” Giselle’s fingertips casually grazed Jamie’s back, unleashing a butterfly or two in Jamie’s stomach and she pulled the dress over her head. Smooth fabric floated over her arms and down her abdomen. Giselle knelt and smoothed the bottom of the dress over Jamie’s legs. “Turn.”
She pivoted on her heels until her back faced Giselle. “Panty lines. Cotton panties won’t work with this dress. Otherwise it’s perfect. You’ll need a thong or go without.”
Jamie’s cheeks flushed a deep red and she turned away from the mirror hoping Giselle wouldn’t notice her embarrassment. “I’ve never worn a thong and I always wear underwear,” Jamie chuckled.
“Not to worry. A trip to the lingerie store is our next stop. You won’t believe what a well-fitted bra can do for you.”
Jamie flushed again and assessed her boobs. I guess they can use a lift.
Can you say embarrassing? Sheesh! She was right though. I was amazed how a wardrobe adjustment could change my outlook. I even got used to wearing heels…and thongs! Can’t have panty lines, after all. Anyway, if you’d like to learn more about Giselle and me, I’d love it if you would download Little Black Dress.
Did I mention Giselle has a naughty tattoo? Oh yes, you will want to read about it. It’s very sexy. ;)
Thank you for stopping by my blog today for the Little Black Dress blog tour. I would also like to say Thank you to Scarlet for her guest post and say Thank you to RBTL for letting me participate in this tour.