A Woman Worth Loving. Jackie Braun

      Harlequin Romance® presents…

      Jackie Braun

      Her believable characters and fresh voice will pull you into the drama…and have you turning the pages all night long!

      THEIR UNFINISHED BUSINESS #3901

      SAYING YES TO THE BOSS #3905

      Books by Jackie Braun

      HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

      3804—HER STAND-IN GROOM*

      3825—THE GAME SHOW BRIDE**

      3840—IN THE SHELTER OF HIS ARMS†

      3860—THE BILLIONAIRE’S BRIDE

      Dear Reader,

      When I first began toying with the idea that became A Woman Worth Loving, I knew that I wanted to explore love against the backdrop of redemption and amid the often sticky dynamics of family.

      I came up with a hero and heroine who certainly have their share of faults and issues. More than being flawed, though, I saw Audra and Seth as lost, and forgiveness as the beacon that would help guide them not only home, but to each other.

      The other Conlan siblings—Audra’s twin sister, Ali, and her big brother, Dane—will have their own stories, coming soon in Harlequin Romance® books.

      Best wishes,

      Jackie Braun

      A Woman Worth Loving

      Jackie Braun

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Jackie Braun earned a degree in journalism from Central Michigan University in 1987 and spent more than sixteen years working full-time at newspapers, including eleven years as an award-winning editorial writer, before quitting her day job to freelance and write fiction. She is a past RITA® Award finalist and a member of the Romance Writers of America. She lives in mid-Michigan with her husband and their young son. She can be reached through her Web site at www.jackiebraun.com

      “Unlike Audra Conlan, I don’t have a twin, but I do have three older sisters (and ten sisters-in-law).

      My sisters are my dearest friends, my biggest supporters and the people I can count on to let me know when my hair color is less than flattering. God bless them.”

      —Jackie Braun on A Woman Worth Loving

      My thanks to Steve Jessmore, chief photographer at The Flint Journal, for his insight.

      I promised to point out that Steve is as un-paparazzi as they come.

      My thanks also to my editor, Stacy Boyd, for letting me “push the envelope” with this one.

      CONTENTS

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       EPILOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      IT WAS easy to have regrets about the way she’d lived her life when a man’s hands were wrapped around her throat, thumbs pressing insistently on her windpipe to cut off her oxygen supply. In truth, though, the excuses Audra had made for her bad behavior hadn’t seemed valid for a while now.

      It’s not fair.

      That thought registered even as her vision began to dim.

      After all, she had been changing her ways—discreetly, which perhaps explained why the tabloids’ most recent headlines had still labeled her a gold digger.

      Audra didn’t like the moniker, although she supposed she had been called far worse. Still, she had married for love and, after that, for emotional security. Wealth hadn’t been the quality that had attracted her to any of her husbands, including the late Henry Dayton Winfield the Third. He’d been kind, undemanding. He’d been…safe. And she had been determined that this marriage would work despite the gap in their ages. She had been determined that this time she would not fail. Marriage number three would not end in divorce like the previous two, leaving her disillusioned and her heart a gouged-out husk.

      “Lying, manipulative witch,” spat the man squeezing her throat.

      Audra was incapable of disputing his words. How ironic that when she had been capable of speaking out in her own defense, she hadn’t bothered.

      In general, she hadn’t cared what other people thought about her or what adjectives they used to describe her, as long as they’d spelled her name right. She’d known her soul wasn’t completely black even if the rag-reading public thought differently. Since her most recent marriage in particular, she’d taken steps to restructure her lifestyle and realign the egocentric pattern into which she had fallen since coming to Hollywood. She was no Mother Teresa, but she had found great satisfaction and personal fulfillment by becoming involved with children’s charities in recent years, working quietly behind the scenes lest someone accuse her of exploiting the already-exploited in an attempt to salvage her flagging acting career.

      While the tabloids might call her a gold digger—and the man trying to kill her clearly saw her that way—she had in fact made an appointment with her lawyer that very afternoon to rework her late husband’s will so that his rightful heirs would inherit the vast estate.

      She didn’t need the money, nor did she feel entitled to it. She had amassed a fair bit of wealth on her own, thanks to a few smart investments. Still, she could understand why some people who didn’t know her, and who only read tabloid stories about her, would see her as a candidate for stoning.

      As she floated near the edge of consciousness, the past thirty years played through her mind like some poorly acted, made-for-television movie. That was galling, but apropos. She’d never made much of a name for herself in Hollywood, at least not the kind that could be repeated in polite company.

      She’d caused her share of trouble and heartache, bitterness and outright rage, which, she thought with the brutal honesty of the dying, was exactly how she found herself in her current predicament. She’d pushed the envelope too far, thumbed her nose at convention one time too many.

      At