Cleopatra's Perfume. Jina Bacarr

      

       Selected praise for award-winning author

      JINA BACARR

       THE BLONDE GEISHA

      “An astounding, wonderful debut novel from Jina Bacarr,

      an author not to be missed!”

      —The Mystic Castle

      “Erotic romance fans should be prepared for lots of teasing.”

      —Publishers Weekly

      “A highly sensual coming-of-age story that, when read,

      one should focus on Bacarr’s gift of writing.”

      —Romance Reader at Heart

      “Ms. Bacarr’s voice is like a songbird; many will fall under

      its sensuous currents…[a] remarkable book.”

      —A Romance Review

      “The Blonde Geisha had me spellbound… Ms. Bacarr pens a rare work of art…an extraordinary tale.”

      —Coffee Time Romance

       NAUGHTY PARIS

      “Rich in historical detail and dialogue, sizzling with sexual energy…

      a lush and sensual novel of one woman coming into her own.”

      —Erotica Romance Writers

      “Ms. Bacarr once again demonstrates her talent of erotic pencrafting

      that is not only titillating, but wantonly different. With a voice so

      naturally sensual, Ms. Bacarr is in a class of her own. It is decadence,

      superbly delivered, fresh and highly creative.”

      —ParaNormal Romance

      “Naughty Paris is a read that I will not soon forget… I love the touch of magic instilled in this great read.”

      —The Romance Studio

      “A humorous, erotic tale…a beautifully written love story…[it] will

      make readers believe in love in all its major transformations.”

      —Romance Junkies

      “This book is fantastic! It is erotica combined with a hint of

      paranormal time travel, featuring sex scenes that will run away

      with your imagination. Bacarr is brilliant as she masterminds

      a true tale of sexual exploration.”

      —Romance Reader at Heart

      “Naughty Paris is a fascinating journey…a magnificent view into a time and place that many can only imagine…breathtaking!”

      —Coffee Time Romance

       SPIES, LIES & NAKED THIGHS

      “The talented Bacarr delivers another strikingly original, fast-paced

      romp highlighted by a smoking-hot hero and a sassy heroine.”

      —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

      “Filled with action, [this] is a fun chick-lit thriller with a touch of

      romance to add spice to a fun tale of intrigue.”

      —Harriet Klausner

      Cleopatra’s Perfume

      An Erotic Novel

      Jina Bacarr

       www.spice-books.co.uk

      For my husband, Len, who took the journey with me.

      And never looked back.

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      War is hell. Ask anyone on the front lines. The fighting, the bombing, the killing. But there was another kind of war fought during World War II. A war behind the scenes in elegant hotels, loud cabarets and dark alleys. Brave men and women standing up to Hitler’s war machine and giving everything they had to keep the world free.

      A few years ago I found myself in the Latin Quarter in Paris on a cold winter night, the chilly wind whipping my coat around me, footsteps behind me seemingly coming out of nowhere. I looked up and saw a plaque on the wall of a building proclaiming that on this spot two French Resistance fighters lost their lives fighting against the Nazis in 1942. I shivered, their presence very real to me. As if it was their footsteps I heard and they still guarded this spot. I knew then in my heart I wanted to tell a story about the intrigue of that war and the lives that were changed forever.

      I became fascinated with the men and women who dared to take on the dangerous job of working for the underground. I pored through first-person accounts, letters, newspapers, magazines, history books and newsreels of spies, Resistance fighters, downed pilots and ordinary people who gave up everything they held most dear to fight against the Nazi invasion. I thank them for their sacrifice and dedication to freedom.

      I also wish to acknowledge the tireless efforts of my editor, Susan Swinwood, who gives me the freedom to explore my worlds and who guides me with her expertise. And finally, I wish to thank my wonderful agent, Roberta Brown, a classy lady in any era and my dear friend, for her encouragement and for staying the course with me.

      1

       A secluded lake outside Berlin

       April 29, 1941

      Blondes always did get him in trouble. This one could get him killed. Tall, statuesque, with big breasts and a seductive walk that communicated with the world in a way he’d never seen. Slow and easy, with just enough wiggle to let him know she was all woman.

      This blonde also had a sharp-nosed Nazi squeezing the soft flesh of her arm in a tight grip.

      “Strip her!” the German officer yelled, pushing the woman toward him.

      “I don’t assault women.” Even if she is a fraud and a liar, he finished silently. A strange, hot light burned in the SS officer’s eyes, sending a driving itch up his backside. He stood his ground, his legs spread apart, his hands on his hips, though he longed to overpower the man.

      “I said, strip her. Now!” The sun-bleached blond Nazi cracked his whip so close to his skin it scorched the hairs on the back of his neck with heat. He swallowed, choking on his own saliva, a rotten taste in his mouth turning his stomach but not his courage. No doubt the German fueled his obsession with power with cruel, lascivious acts, setting up a bitter rivalry between the two of them, but why? And who would win?

      “Since you’re so reluctant to do what the Nazi officer asks,” she said, her voice calm and precise, “I’ll show you how to undress a woman.”

      She unfastened the ornate buttons on her dress then slid her fingers across them as if wiping off the sticky sweat. Then she wiggled out of the blue silk garment, kicked off her Sunday-white pumps and removed her sheer silk stockings and garters. Underneath she wore nothing but a nude-colored slip. Her breathing ragged, her eyes squinting against an approving sun overhead, she waited for him to say something.

      “You want me to fuck you,” he said, disbelieving.

      “Yes.”

      “Then why this silly game?”

      She smiled. “It makes it more interesting.”

      “You’re crazy.”

      “You’re