Sinful

With a name like Sinful, I expected a book like a box of chocolate truffles – bittersweet and dark and wonderfully rich. Instead, I got a can of warm grape soda pop – sticky, sickly sweet and oh, so purple. But, shame on me. What should I have expected from a collection of stories where the tie-in theme is designer lines of lingerie that would be too risqué for Frederick’s of Hollywood?