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INTERNATIONAL BILLIONAIRES
Life is a game of power and pleasure. And these men play to win!
Let Modern™ Romance take you on a jet-set journey
to meet eight male wonders of the world. From rich tycoons to royal playboys— they’re red-hot and ruthless!
International Billionaires coming in 2009
The Prince’s Waitress Wife by Sarah Morgan, February.
At the Argentinean Billionaire’s Bidding by India Grey, March.
The French Tycoon’s Pregnant Mistress by Abby Green, April.
The Ruthless Billionaire’s Virgin by Susan Stephens, May.
The Italian Count’s Defiant Bride by Catherine George, June.
The Sheikh’s Love-Child by Kate Hewitt, July.
Blackmailed into the Greek Tycoon’s Bed by Carol Marinelli, August.
The Virgin Secretary’s Impossible Boss by Carol Mortimer, September.
8 volumes in all to collect!
Abby Green got hooked on Mills & Boon romances while still in her teens, when she stumbled across one belonging to her grandmother, in the west of Ireland. After many years of reading them voraciously, she sat down one day and gave it a go herself. Happily, after a few failed attempts, her first manuscript was accepted. Abby works freelance in the Film and TV industry but thankfully the 4 a.m. starts and stresses of dealing with recalcitrant actors are becoming more and more infrequent, leaving more time to write! She loves to hear from readers and you can contact her through her website at www.abby-green.com. She lives and works in Dublin.
Dear Reader
I was thrilled to be asked to write one in a series of books centring around the exciting world of International Rugby. My home, Ireland, is bursting with Rugby pride and prowess. The backdrop of Six Nations fever certainly helped me to envisage the single-minded pursuit of an arrogant French hero intent on the seduction of my vulnerable, yet strong Irish heroine!
The game, to me, represents earthy competition and raw sport at its most base and primal level—heady stuff, and very evocative of passion and attraction.
Recently the matches have been played out in the impressive Dublin ground of Croke Park, and that’s where I’ve set the opening of my story. As of 2010, though, the game will return to its home ground of Lansdowne Road, which is currently being refurbished to international standards.
When it came to research—well, let’s just say that it was no hardship to sit and watch the Six Nations in preparation. I have to confess while watching France v Italy my focus on the rules of the game did wander a little from time to time.
I hope that you enjoy reading Alana and Pascal’s story as much as I enjoyed the process of writing it…
Happy reading!
Abby
THE FRENCH TYCOON’S PREGNANT MISTRESS
BY
ABBY GREEN
www.millsandboon.co.uk
CHAPTER ONE
‘WITH a nail-biting finish like that, I think we can safely say that this tournament is wide-open and set to be one of the most exciting yet. This is Alana Cusack, reporting live from Croke Park. Back to you in the studio, Brian.’
Alana kept the smile pasted on her face until she could hear the chatter die away in her earpiece and then handed her microphone to her assistant, Aisling, with relief once she knew she was off air. She avoided looking to where she knew the man was still standing, his shoulder propped nonchalantly against the wall, hands in the pockets of his dark trousers, underneath a black overcoat with the collar turned up. He’d been talking to one of the French players, but now he was alone again.
He was watching her. And he’d been watching her all through the Six Nations match between Ireland and France. He’d unsettled her and he’d distracted her. And she didn’t know why.
That was a lie; she knew exactly why. He was dark and brooding, and so gorgeous that when she’d first locked eyes with him, quite by accident, it had felt as though someone had just punched her in the stomach. There had been an instant tug of recognition and something very alien and disconcerting. Certainly something that no other man had ever made her feel.
Not even her husband.
The tug had been so strong that she’d felt herself smiling and raising a quizzical brow, but then she’d seen an unmistakably mocking glint in his dark eyes. Of course, she didn’t know him; she’d never seen his long, hard-boned face before, had never seen that mouth, which even to look at from where she sat, had the most amazingly sensuous lips. Immediately she’d felt herself flushing with embarrassment at her reaction to him.
He had to be French, as he shared the quintessential good looks of so many of the crowd today, quite exotically different from the more pale-skinned home crowd of Irish supporters. And he’d been sitting in the seats reserved for VIP’s, situated just below the press area. He looked like a VIP. She’d only had to look once to know that he effortlessly stood out from the rest of the crowd. But her gaze had been inexorably drawn to him again and again, and to her utter ongoing mortification their eyes had met more than once. When he’d stood intermittently with the crowd during a try or a conversion, he’d stood taller and broader than any of the men around him—and in a crowd full of rugby supporters, that was something.
Yet was he waiting now because he thought that she’d been giving him some sort of come-on? Everything in Alana clammed up and rejected that thought. She would never be so blatant.
‘Do you need a lift, Alana?’ Aisling and the others had finished packing up, and Derek the cameraman was looking at her. Suddenly she felt very flustered. She didn’t get flustered. She was often teased for appearing cool, calm and collected at all times.
‘No,’ she answered quickly, aware that the stranger had moved out of her peripheral vision. A sense of panic threatened her—that he might be right behind her, waiting for her. ‘I have to go to a family dinner later, so I have my car here.’