“France is as beautiful as you promised,” said Betty Graham, skipping down the gang plank of the great ocean liner that had just brought her from America.
“And autumn is the perfect season to meet her,” said Mademoiselle Ucret. During their Atlantic crossing, Mademoiselle Ucret had helped Betty
I was locking my office just after four on a hot July afternoon when her perfume hit me. Jasmine laced with lime.
Only one kind of woman wears that potion—a blonde with curly ringlets like Shirley Temple made famous. I’m not related to Shirley, she just happens to have the same last name as me. Sight unseen,
New Novel – Missionary Position –