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That’s it—the last box!”

“It’s about time!”

Steve absently wiped away a trickle of sweat running down his temple.

“Do you really think we’ll stay here for more than a year?”

“We’ll see. But right now, we’ve got to get a move on. We still have lots to do!”

Another move; the third one in as many years. For some time now, Steve and I had been on an exasperating quest to find the perfect place to live. Owning our own home would have been ideal, but since Steve had been slated for eventual transfer to another city, we had agreed that this would remain a dream a little longer. So, full of enthusiastic optimism, I had spent three months systematically combing the city in the hopes of finding that “perfect gem,” somewhere we could settle in for a while until we were ready to commit to our little house in the country. And now, despite all the frustrating and fruitless searching, I finally had the sense that this was exactly what we had been dreaming of.

I had a good feeling about this apartment as soon as I saw it. After weeks of false hopes, false trails, and endless visits, I had been just about ready to pack it in. Then, one very ordinary morning, as I perused the newspapers without much hope, I came to an advertisement describing “A magnificent apartment, country calm near downtown. A real deal.” Having read a ton of similar ads, I nearly passed this one over. But some strange instinct made me persevere and before I knew it, I had dialed the number and made an appointment.

The French are famous for four things: fashion, food (wine included), makeup, and sex. You will find them all in this book, with a distinct emphasis on the fourth, thank goodness. I cannot think of a more appropriate title. It’s so risqué you’ll feel like a naughty school girl (i.e. guiltily trying to hide the cover any time someone walks into the room). It’s probably not the book to turn to if you’re in the middle of a dry spell. But if you’re looking for some great erotic fiction, this book will make you feel tres sexy. Magnifique!