Wiping the slate clean for Winston Harrison Gentry the Third will not be easy, but Paris, the youngest of the three Hampton sisters, agrees to handle Public Relations for the candidate’s reelection campaign.

When she promises to keep the notorious skirt chaser’s nose clean, she never dreams she’ll be the next enthralled woman hoping to jump the candidate’s bones.

She learns the press has greatly exaggerated Win’s success with the fairer sex, but he hasn’t objected until now. Redistricting has the Atlanta City Councilman from the Eighth Council District representing Buckhead, Georgia, running scared. The outrageously handsome politician must overcome bad press and earn voter approval in this new district or find himself out of a job.

The attraction between Paris and Win sizzles. She is challenged at every turn. His campaign manager resents her, the female college students volunteering to help his campaign only care about catching the candidate’s eye, and a local newspaper continues to badmouth the candidate.

Who is feeding the newspaper such dribble?

She uncovers a plot to discredit Win and must catch the culprits in the act to prove her case or risk Win losing the election while Paris loses her heart.

Great Balls of Fire Excerpt 1 – The Meet

“Polishing this tarnished apple will be another feather in my cap. Let’s just hope I land the job,” Paris Hampton told the curious cat watching her with an aloof gaze. She adored caring for Amos when Alan, its police officer owner went on stakeout.

She shut her laptop, pleased with her research on the Buckhead City Councilman in need of her public relations expertise to secure a different council seat.

Just as she’d suspected, Winston Harrison Gentry the Third had as many enemies among the press as he had faithful supporters.

Could a politician responsible for spearheading so many beneficial projects in Buckhead also be an insufferable cad?

He could, if she believed half of what she’d just read about him, but she’d soon know. Professor Bentley had assured her most of the newspaper reports hinting at his sexual prowess were greatly exaggerated, and she was inclined to agree. She doubted even a man addicted to sex could seduce new partners as often as the press claimed Gentry did.

The City Councilman representing Buckhead’s Eight District would be out on his ear if he didn’t win the special election to fill the newly redistricted seat on the Atlanta City Council.

Could he win?

Will I respect the man enough to help him win?

She’d know the answer as soon as she looked him in the eye and shook his hand, but there would be no handshaking unless she finished dressing. Her interview with the candidate was in less than an hour, half a mile away.

If I agree to do PR for Gentry should I try to whitewash the candidate or paint him in a new light?

She’d know once she spoke with him. Hopefully the candidate’s eyes would give her a window into his heart.

Thoughtful, she buttoned her navy suit skirt over a white silk blouse with a ruffled neck.

Strange our paths had never crossed.

The candidate was forever appearing on the late news in a story about his arrival at some charity event with his current eye candy on his arm.

His popularity with the ladies should not make my stomach knot, but for some reason it does.

If her favorite English Comp professor vouched for Gentry he couldn’t be all bad, and Bent had sung his praises on the phone during his call to ask her to take his former student under her wing.

Paris gave her long blonde hair a final brushing, controlled the thick mass in a plain gold barrette she clasped at the base of her skull, and then slipped on the jacket of her favorite power suit and buttoned it. Long ruby earrings dangling from her pierced ears completed the look of a successful twenty-six-year-old business woman, exactly as she’d planned.

Gathering her purse and keys, she wished herself well in the entrance hall mirror. A confident woman preparing to enter the lion’s den smiled back at her, but Paris continued to question her unease as she drove north on Peachtree Road and turned into the Anchor’s Away parking lot.

Head held high she told the host, “Paris Hampton, I’m meeting Mr. Gentry,” then followed the balding man through the maze of noisy diners to his table.

“Here you are, miss.”

“Thank you.”

As both men occupying Bent’s table stood to shake her hand, she glanced at the stranger and caught him checking her out with a hungry gaze.

Gentry’s newspaper images failed to do him justice.

He was not at all what she’d expected. Paris focused on the man she already knew. “Professor Bentley, it’s good to see you again.”

“You look lovely, Paris. May I introduce Winston Gentry — Win to you?”

Her professor had insisted his students call him Bent, but she didn’t feel comfortable doing so among strangers, and Winston Harrison Gentry the Third was the most intriguing stranger she’d ever met.

The slight graying of the hair above his ears gave him a distinguished look not noticeable on TV. His presence filled the room and sucked the air right out of her struggling lungs.

Somewhere she found the strength to hold out her hand and smile at the man ogling her. She quickly glanced away.

No, I will not be your next conquest.

I intend to stay on my toes around you.

Finally able to draw a breath, she focused her attention on Win, only to have the air sucked from her lungs again.

Her father’s magnetism drew crowds. This man could draw the attention of everyone in the crowded room by clearing his throat.

“Paris,” he said, holding her hand far too long.

His deep voice detonated shock waves in her.

How does he do that?

Heaven help her. Like Daniel, she’d stepped into the lion’s den with only her brain to fend off this powerful man.

“Please be seated,” Win said, “so we can get this sorted out. What would you like to drink?”

Nothing strong. She was drunk enough in Win’s presence without adding liquor to the mix.

“Coffee,” she told the waiter, smiling at him to hide her unease. She’d never had a job interview over lunch before, nor been made to feel like the entrée by an interested look.

Better mind my p’s and q’s or one of the forks at my place is bound to wind up on the floor.

“I took the liberty of ordering for us. I hope you like wild Alaskan salmon and Caesar salad,” Win said, and Paris nodded. “Good. Bent asked you here today to–”

“–do emergency repair on Win’s image,” the professor said, grinning at the candidate. “You and I discussed this a little on the phone, Paris. Win has a way of acting without weighing the consequences, and there’s no way in hell he can retain a seat on the City Council in this upcoming election without someone putting the proper spin on his publicity.”

“Can you help, Paris?” Win asked.

“If what I’ve read about you in the papers since Monday is true, I’m not sure. Did you really let three women into your apartment? Didn’t you realize how that might look to the press?”

At least he stopped to think before replying. She smiled to herself.

He shrugged. “I tend not to think clearly when three good looking women are throwing themselves at me.”

“Does it happen often?”

“It does to me.”

The conversation paused for the waiter to deliver their salads, giving Paris a chance to collect her thoughts. Win’s deep voice had a hypnotizing effect on her and she had to force herself to concentrate on his words or risk missing his point. It wouldn’t do to ask him to repeat his answers.

After promising to bring a pitcher of ice tea the waiter departed and Paris resumed the interview. “Where do you think you made your first mistake that evening, Win?”

“In letting three uninvited women into my place, strangers at that.”

“And your last mistake?”

“Shouting at the reporter who called to ask the women’s names.”

“You should have called the police the minute those women showed up at your door.”

Bent grinned proudly. “I told you Paris would know just the right spin to put on things.”

She smiled at Win. “What made you decide to run for office?”

“I wanted a hand in controlling Buckhead’s growth.”

“Were you successful in your first term?”

“Not as much as I would have liked to be. There are some deep pockets in this City determined to push through their own projects without giving any thought to planned growth.”

“Welcome to the real world. If you get elected to represent this new district do you foresee any changes in those deep pocket’s attitude?”

“No, but during this last term I learned some negotiating skills I was just beginning to put into practice when all this redistricting talk began.”

Good, he isn’t averse to changing his ways.

“And if you’re elected you plan to use those new skills on the opposition?”

“Can’t see that it would hurt.”

“Then let’s discuss what needs to be done to give you that chance. First, if I take this job, all social and political requests for your presence must be approved by me.”

“What’s my–” Win struggled to rise, then slumped onto his chair when Bent touched his arm.

“All your appearances are to be scheduled through me. That’s a steadfast rule I don’t want broken.”

“I don’t see why?”

“Do you remember the married elected official who was arrested with a prostitute last year? The story made front page of every newspaper in the country. I don’t want something like that happening to you. If I accept your offer and join your staff, I intend to see you keep your nose clean. It won’t be easy, and you’ll hate me long before election day.”

“Is all this really necessary?” he asked, appealing to Bent.

“Yes, it is,” Paris said, answering instead. “Everything you say or do is big news now. You shouldn’t even smile at an attractive woman unless I’ve placed a dossier about her on your desk.”

“But–”

“I know. My rule removes all spontaneity from skirt chasing, and is my intent. I won’t tolerate any bad press on my watch. Understood? And have a peephole installed in your front door. Today, if possible.”

Win nodded, not looking at all happy about her demands, but finally accepting them.

While one waiter cleared the table, another delivered salmon Oscar, and for a few moments political talk ceased as the three of them ate.

Win broke the silence, his jaw tight. “Mind telling me how a pretty young woman like you has learned so much about human nature?”

Paris squared her shoulders. “I learned most of what I know from Bent while editing the Bulldog News.”

“You think you can pull this off?”

“Only if I have your full cooperation. What do you have on your calendar for the coming week?”

From his blank expression, the candidate had no idea.

“Do you have anything scheduled for tonight?”

“I’m speaking at a banquet honoring veterans who’ve made Buckhead their home.”

“Mind if I attend?”

Something flashed in Win’s eyes. “Do I look like I need a baby sitter?”

“That’s depends, but if I take this job you will have one, at least for the next few weeks, so get used to the idea.”

He glanced at Bent, his jaw again tight. “When will you decide?”

“As soon as you agree to my terms.”

Win winced. “You mean the part about all social and political dates being cleared through you? You drive a hard bargain.”

Paris smiled sweetly. “What’s your approval rating today?”

He yielded the floor to Bent. “Less than 30%, I’d say.”

Judging from the slump of his shoulders, Win agreed.

“This is a new district, and you’re facing an uphill climb. The voters are just as upset about the redistricting as you are, I imagine, but every day you stick to my rules, I expect your approval rate to climb.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’ve been in public relations long enough to know what makes news. On a slow day reporters dig around for anything they figure local politicians are trying to hide. After quarterbacks, actors and pro-golfers, elected officials are their favorite targets. Your job from now on is to make the right kind of news. Can you handle that?”

“What will you be doing?”

“Making the story go away if you screw up. Bent said you aren’t married. Do you have a significant other?”

Win narrowed his eyes. “No, are you applying for that position, too?”

As ridiculous as the possibility seemed, it somehow appealed to Paris and her silly heart warmed to him.

“Not until after I see you elected,” she said, smiling sweetly again to conceal her surprise at his unsettling question.

“Children,” Bent said, strangling on his tea. “Let’s not square off in public.”

“So what’s next?” Win looked contrite.

“From now on I don’t want to read in the morning paper about who you went bar-hopping with the night before or your latest conquest. No candidate can count on being elected if he or she makes the wrong kind of news.”

Bent grinned. “I think she has you number, Win. Listen to her. It’s sound advice.”

Paris glowed under his praise. “What’s the dress code for tonight?”

Win’s stiff countenance softened. “Formal. Sorry for the short notice. Does this mean you’ll join my staff and make me look good again in the voter’s eyes?” She nodded. “Great.”

Or not, we’ll see.

Paris extended her hand for Win to shake and then wished she hadn’t.

This man has more charisma in his little finger than most men have in their entire being.

Virginia had warned her to stay away from Winston Gentry.

It may already be too late, Sis. I feel drawn to Win like a lioness to the kill.

 Here’s an excerpt:

Great Balls of Fire Excerpt 1 – The Meet

“Polishing this tarnished apple will be another feather in my cap. Let’s just hope I land the job,” Paris Hampton told the curious cat watching her with an aloof gaze. She adored caring for Amos when Alan, its police officer owner went on stakeout.

She shut her laptop, pleased with her research on the Buckhead City Councilman in need of her public relations expertise to secure a different council seat.

Just as she’d suspected, Winston Harrison Gentry the Third had as many enemies among the press as he had faithful supporters.

Could a politician responsible for spearheading so many beneficial projects in Buckhead also be an insufferable cad?

He could, if she believed half of what she’d just read about him, but she’d soon know. Professor Bentley had assured her most of the newspaper reports hinting at his sexual prowess were greatly exaggerated, and she was inclined to agree. She doubted even a man addicted to sex could seduce new partners as often as the press claimed Gentry did.

The City Councilman representing Buckhead’s Eight District would be out on his ear if he didn’t win the special election to fill the newly redistricted seat on the Atlanta City Council.

Could he win?

Will I respect the man enough to help him win?

She’d know the answer as soon as she looked him in the eye and shook his hand, but there would be no handshaking unless she finished dressing. Her interview with the candidate was in less than an hour, half a mile away.

If I agree to do PR for Gentry should I try to whitewash the candidate or paint him in a new light?

She’d know once she spoke with him. Hopefully the candidate’s eyes would give her a window into his heart.

Thoughtful, she buttoned her navy suit skirt over a white silk blouse with a ruffled neck.

Strange our paths had never crossed.

The candidate was forever appearing on the late news in a story about his arrival at some charity event with his current eye candy on his arm.

His popularity with the ladies should not make my stomach knot, but for some reason it does.

If her favorite English Comp professor vouched for Gentry he couldn’t be all bad, and Bent had sung his praises on the phone during his call to ask her to take his former student under her wing.

Paris gave her long blonde hair a final brushing, controlled the thick mass in a plain gold barrette she clasped at the base of her skull, and then slipped on the jacket of her favorite power suit and buttoned it. Long ruby earrings dangling from her pierced ears completed the look of a successful twenty-six-year-old business woman, exactly as she’d planned.

Gathering her purse and keys, she wished herself well in the entrance hall mirror. A confident woman preparing to enter the lion’s den smiled back at her, but Paris continued to question her unease as she drove north on Peachtree Road and turned into the Anchor’s Away parking lot.

Head held high she told the host, “Paris Hampton, I’m meeting Mr. Gentry,” then followed the balding man through the maze of noisy diners to his table.

“Here you are, miss.”

“Thank you.”

As both men occupying Bent’s table stood to shake her hand, she glanced at the stranger and caught him checking her out with a hungry gaze.

Gentry’s newspaper images failed to do him justice.

He was not at all what she’d expected. Paris focused on the man she already knew. “Professor Bentley, it’s good to see you again.”

“You look lovely, Paris. May I introduce Winston Gentry — Win to you?”

Her professor had insisted his students call him Bent, but she didn’t feel comfortable doing so among strangers, and Winston Harrison Gentry the Third was the most intriguing stranger she’d ever met.

The slight graying of the hair above his ears gave him a distinguished look not noticeable on TV. His presence filled the room and sucked the air right out of her struggling lungs.

Somewhere she found the strength to hold out her hand and smile at the man ogling her. She quickly glanced away.

No, I will not be your next conquest.

I intend to stay on my toes around you.

Finally able to draw a breath, she focused her attention on Win, only to have the air sucked from her lungs again.

Her father’s magnetism drew crowds. This man could draw the attention of everyone in the crowded room by clearing his throat.

“Paris,” he said, holding her hand far too long.

His deep voice detonated shock waves in her.

How does he do that?

Heaven help her. Like Daniel, she’d stepped into the lion’s den with only her brain to fend off this powerful man.

“Please be seated,” Win said, “so we can get this sorted out. What would you like to drink?”

Nothing strong. She was drunk enough in Win’s presence without adding liquor to the mix.

“Coffee,” she told the waiter, smiling at him to hide her unease. She’d never had a job interview over lunch before, nor been made to feel like the entrée by an interested look.

Better mind my p’s and q’s or one of the forks at my place is bound to wind up on the floor.

“I took the liberty of ordering for us. I hope you like wild Alaskan salmon and Caesar salad,” Win said, and Paris nodded. “Good. Bent asked you here today to–”

“–do emergency repair on Win’s image,” the professor said, grinning at the candidate. “You and I discussed this a little on the phone, Paris. Win has a way of acting without weighing the consequences, and there’s no way in hell he can retain a seat on the City Council in this upcoming election without someone putting the proper spin on his publicity.”

“Can you help, Paris?” Win asked.

“If what I’ve read about you in the papers since Monday is true, I’m not sure. Did you really let three women into your apartment? Didn’t you realize how that might look to the press?”

At least he stopped to think before replying. She smiled to herself.

He shrugged. “I tend not to think clearly when three good looking women are throwing themselves at me.”

“Does it happen often?”

“It does to me.”

The conversation paused for the waiter to deliver their salads, giving Paris a chance to collect her thoughts. Win’s deep voice had a hypnotizing effect on her and she had to force herself to concentrate on his words or risk missing his point. It wouldn’t do to ask him to repeat his answers.

After promising to bring a pitcher of ice tea the waiter departed and Paris resumed the interview. “Where do you think you made your first mistake that evening, Win?”

“In letting three uninvited women into my place, strangers at that.”

“And your last mistake?”

“Shouting at the reporter who called to ask the women’s names.”

“You should have called the police the minute those women showed up at your door.”

Bent grinned proudly. “I told you Paris would know just the right spin to put on things.”

She smiled at Win. “What made you decide to run for office?”

“I wanted a hand in controlling Buckhead’s growth.”

“Were you successful in your first term?”

“Not as much as I would have liked to be. There are some deep pockets in this City determined to push through their own projects without giving any thought to planned growth.”

“Welcome to the real world. If you get elected to represent this new district do you foresee any changes in those deep pocket’s attitude?”

“No, but during this last term I learned some negotiating skills I was just beginning to put into practice when all this redistricting talk began.”

Good, he isn’t averse to changing his ways.

“And if you’re elected you plan to use those new skills on the opposition?”

“Can’t see that it would hurt.”

“Then let’s discuss what needs to be done to give you that chance. First, if I take this job, all social and political requests for your presence must be approved by me.”

“What’s my–” Win struggled to rise, then slumped onto his chair when Bent touched his arm.

“All your appearances are to be scheduled through me. That’s a steadfast rule I don’t want broken.”

“I don’t see why?”

“Do you remember the married elected official who was arrested with a prostitute last year? The story made front page of every newspaper in the country. I don’t want something like that happening to you. If I accept your offer and join your staff, I intend to see you keep your nose clean. It won’t be easy, and you’ll hate me long before election day.”

“Is all this really necessary?” he asked, appealing to Bent.

“Yes, it is,” Paris said, answering instead. “Everything you say or do is big news now. You shouldn’t even smile at an attractive woman unless I’ve placed a dossier about her on your desk.”

“But–”

“I know. My rule removes all spontaneity from skirt chasing, and is my intent. I won’t tolerate any bad press on my watch. Understood? And have a peephole installed in your front door. Today, if possible.”

Win nodded, not looking at all happy about her demands, but finally accepting them.

While one waiter cleared the table, another delivered salmon Oscar, and for a few moments political talk ceased as the three of them ate.

Win broke the silence, his jaw tight. “Mind telling me how a pretty young woman like you has learned so much about human nature?”

Paris squared her shoulders. “I learned most of what I know from Bent while editing the Bulldog News.”

“You think you can pull this off?”

“Only if I have your full cooperation. What do you have on your calendar for the coming week?”

From his blank expression, the candidate had no idea.

“Do you have anything scheduled for tonight?”

“I’m speaking at a banquet honoring veterans who’ve made Buckhead their home.”

“Mind if I attend?”

Something flashed in Win’s eyes. “Do I look like I need a baby sitter?”

“That’s depends, but if I take this job you will have one, at least for the next few weeks, so get used to the idea.”

He glanced at Bent, his jaw again tight. “When will you decide?”

“As soon as you agree to my terms.”

Win winced. “You mean the part about all social and political dates being cleared through you? You drive a hard bargain.”

Paris smiled sweetly. “What’s your approval rating today?”

He yielded the floor to Bent. “Less than 30%, I’d say.”

Judging from the slump of his shoulders, Win agreed.

“This is a new district, and you’re facing an uphill climb. The voters are just as upset about the redistricting as you are, I imagine, but every day you stick to my rules, I expect your approval rate to climb.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’ve been in public relations long enough to know what makes news. On a slow day reporters dig around for anything they figure local politicians are trying to hide. After quarterbacks, actors and pro-golfers, elected officials are their favorite targets. Your job from now on is to make the right kind of news. Can you handle that?”

“What will you be doing?”

“Making the story go away if you screw up. Bent said you aren’t married. Do you have a significant other?”

Win narrowed his eyes. “No, are you applying for that position, too?”

As ridiculous as the possibility seemed, it somehow appealed to Paris and her silly heart warmed to him.

“Not until after I see you elected,” she said, smiling sweetly again to conceal her surprise at his unsettling question.

“Children,” Bent said, strangling on his tea. “Let’s not square off in public.”

“So what’s next?” Win looked contrite.

“From now on I don’t want to read in the morning paper about who you went bar-hopping with the night before or your latest conquest. No candidate can count on being elected if he or she makes the wrong kind of news.”

Bent grinned. “I think she has you number, Win. Listen to her. It’s sound advice.”

Paris glowed under his praise. “What’s the dress code for tonight?”

Win’s stiff countenance softened. “Formal. Sorry for the short notice. Does this mean you’ll join my staff and make me look good again in the voter’s eyes?” She nodded. “Great.”

Or not, we’ll see.

Paris extended her hand for Win to shake and then wished she hadn’t.

This man has more charisma in his little finger than most men have in their entire being.

Virginia had warned her to stay away from Winston Gentry.

It may already be too late, Sis. I feel drawn to Win like a lioness to the kill.