Barbara Elsborg lives in West Yorkshire in the north of England. She always wanted to be a spy, but having confessed to everyone without them even resorting to torture, she decided it was not for her. Vulcanology scorched her feet. A morbid fear of sharks put paid to marine biology. So instead, she spent several years successfully selling cyanide.
After dragging up two rotten, ungrateful children and frustrating her sexy, devoted, wonderful husband (who can now stop twisting her arm) she finally has time to conduct an affair with an electrifying plugged-in male, her laptop.
Her books feature quirky heroines and bad boys, and she hopes they are as much fun to read as they were to write.
When Pia goes into a hotel bedroom looking for a night of stringless sex, she gets more than she bargained for.
Pia’s life needs a kick start. She’s tired of going home to an empty flat, killing plants and fed up with her job. She hasn’t been held in a guy’s arms for far too long. If men can do sex just for fun, why can’t she? But as she makes the trek to a hotel bedroom she’s fraught with indecision. It’s a minor miracle that she manages to pluck up the guts to open the door and slink into the room. That miracle becomes so much more than minor once she crawls into bed and gets the shock of her life.
Connor and Espen want a third person in their lives but don’t seem to be having much luck finding the right lover until Pia comes along, but when she’s gone in the morning, they don’t know what they’ve done wrong and if they don’t know that, how can they put it right?