Название | A D'Angelo Like No Other |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Кэрол Мортимер |
Жанр | Контркультура |
Серия | Mills & Boon Modern |
Издательство | Контркультура |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781472042330 |
‘I’ve never met your sister,’ Michael stated firmly. ‘So whatever scam the two of you are trying to pull here I would advise that you forget it—’
He broke off abruptly as one of Eva Foster’s hands made loud and painful contact with one of his cheeks, causing the baby in his arms to let out another deafeningly wail.
‘That was uncalled for,’ he bit out between gritted teeth, his jaw clenched as he jiggled the baby up and down in his arms in an effort to silence her screams.
‘It was very called for,’ Eva Foster insisted heatedly, her face having become even paler as she moved forward to stroke the back of the baby in Michael’s arms soothingly. ‘How dare you stand there and deny even knowing my sister, accuse the two of us of trying to pull a scam on you, at the same time as you’re holding your own daughter in your arms?’
Her eyes flashed deeply violet in contrast to the emotional shaking of her voice.
‘I—am—not—’ Michael broke off to draw in a deep, controlling breath, his cheek still stinging from that slap. ‘Sophie is not my daughter.’
‘I assure you she is,’ she snapped.
THE DEVILISH D’ANGELOS
Sinners named for saints …
Known around the world for the prestigious Archangel auction houses and galleries in London, New York and Paris, the D’Angelo brothers are notorious for their prowess in the art world … and even more so for their exploits in their personal lives.
These Italian heartthrobs might have been named for angels, but their ruthless natures and powerful personas make them anything but angelic …
Soar to LONDON for Gabriel D’Angelo’s story in:
A BARGAIN WITH THE ENEMY
February 2014
Sail to NEW YORK for Raphael D’Angelo’s story in:
A PRIZE BEYOND JEWELS
March 2014
Fly to PARIS for Michael D’Angelo’s story in:
A D’ANGELO LIKE NO OTHER
April 2014
Enter the exclusive world of the D’Angelos in this dazzling new trilogy from Carole Mortimer!
A D’Angelo Like No Other
Carole Mortimer
CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written over one hundred and fifty books for Harlequin Mills & Boon®. Carole has six sons: Matthew, Joshua, Timothy, Michael, David and Peter. She says, ‘I’m happily married to Peter senior; we’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live in a lovely part of England.’
Carole loves to hear from her readers. She can be reached at [email protected] or her website, www.carolemortimer.co.uk.
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Our Son, Matthew, A Man to be Proud of.
Contents
PROLOGUE
St Gregory’s Church, New York.
‘WEREN’T THE THREE of us sitting together in a church very like this one just a few weeks ago?’ Michael spoke mockingly to his youngest brother Gabriel as they sat in the front pew of the church crowded with wedding guests, their restless brother Rafe seated on his other side.
‘I believe we were, yes,’ Gabriel confirmed dryly. ‘Except on that occasion you and Rafe were my best men, and now we’re Rafe’s.’
‘How many weeks ago was that, exactly?’ Michael arched derisive brows.
‘Five wonderful, glorious weeks.’ Gabriel smiled at the thought of his own recent marriage to his beloved Bryn.
‘Hmm.’ Michael nodded. ‘Did I ever tell you of the conversation I had with Rafe that day, in which he assured me, most emphatically I believe, that he didn’t believe in this “one love of a lifetime” thing, and certainly had no intention of getting married in the immediate, or even distant, future?’
Gabriel glanced at their brother Rafe, holding back a smile as he saw the tension in Rafe’s white face as he waited for his bride to arrive at the church. ‘No, I don’t believe you did...’
‘Oh, yes.’ Michael settled more comfortably on the pew. ‘It was as we were standing outside the church together, when you and Bryn were posing for photographs. I seem to remember that Rafe had just received a call from one of his women, and—’
‘And this is hardly the time,