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      What a Girl Needs

      Book Two in Indecent Proposals

      Aimée Duffy

      A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      Contents

       Copyright

       Dedication

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Aimée Duffy

       About HarperImpulse

       About the Publisher

      HarperImpulse an imprint of

      HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

      77–85 Fulham Palace Road

      Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014

      Copyright © Aimee Duffy 2014

      Cover images © Shutterstock.com

      Aimee Duffy asserts the moral right

      to be identified as the author of this work.

      A catalogue record for this book is

      available from the British Library

      This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

      The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

      the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

      actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

      entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved under International

      and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

      By payment of the required fees, you have been granted

      the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access

      and read the text of this e-book on screen.

      No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

      downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or

      stored in or introduced into any information storage and

      retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

      whether electronic or mechanical, now known or

      hereinafter invented, without the express

      written permission of HarperCollins.

      Ebook Edition © March 2014

      ISBN: 9780007540297

      Version 2014-09-26

      Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

      I definitely need to dedicate this one to Susan Thomson. The conversations we've had will keep the ideas flowing for years!

       Chapter 1

       Dear Sally,

       I read your column weekly but never thought I’d be writing this email. The truth is there’s something wrong with me. I can’t climax. I’ve never been able to, and my recent ex told me this was normal for some women. Not the women I know. Was he telling the truth? Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one.

       Yours,

       Anonymous

      Georgia Lewis forced herself to leave it at that. It was one thing to think of herself as a freak, another to sign off using the label. Moving the mouse over the mat provided by Briggs Department Stores, she tried to click ‘send’, but her finger wouldn’t obey the command.

      Frustrated, she let go of the mouse and raked a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face. She couldn’t be the only woman in New York who’d never experienced what her friends kept banging on about, could she? Plus she’d created a false email address so none of Sally’s Sexual Help readers would know it was her who sent it in, so what did it matter?

      She needed to pull on her big-girl panties and send the damn thing. Maybe then she’d be able to concentrate on the end-of-year accounts on her desk. After all, she was here to work, not worry about body parts that didn’t function correctly.

      Resolved, she reached for the mouse again. Her desk phone rang and she stifled a sigh. Abandoning the mouse, she picked up the phone.

      ‘Accounts Department,’ she answered, though she could hardly call it that, more ‘two women forgotten in closets at the back of the building.’

      ‘Georgia, I need the buying accounts for last month.’

      His deep voice made her skin prickle, like it always did. She shook off the weird sensation. He was her new boss; until his father got better anyway, and she’d never let herself look at him any other way. Okay, maybe she had on occasion, when she trailed behind him in the hall. Who wouldn’t check out an ass like his? It was high and firm and utterly squeezable.

      ‘Sure, Maxton. I’ll get them ready.’

      ‘Georgia…’

      She rolled her eyes. ‘Max. Sorry.’

      Hard to break a habit of a lifetime. His father, Maxton Briggs the First, never allowed his name to be shortened.

      But it was Maxton Briggs the Second running the show

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