His Not-So-Blushing Bride. Fiona Brand

       Eleven

       Twelve

       Thirteen

       Fourteen

       Fifteen

       Sixteen

       Copyright

Marriage with Benefits

       “You might very well be the hottest male on the planet, but I am not willing to be your latest conquest.”

      Her hands clenched into fists and socked against his chest. For emphasis. And maybe to unleash some frustration. He didn’t move an iota.

      For who knew what ill-advised reason, he reached out, but then wisely stopped shy of her face. “Is it so difficult to believe you intrigue me and I simply want to unwrap the rest of you?”

      “Yeah. It is.” She crossed her arms to prevent any more unloading of frustration. His chest was as hard as his head. And other places. “You’re feeling deprived. Go find one of the women who text messaged you earlier in the car, and scratch your itch with her, because I’m not sleeping with you.”

      A smile curved his mouth, but the opposite of humor flashed through his steely gaze. “In case it’s slipped your mind, I’m married. The only person I’ll be sleeping with for the next six months is my wife.”

Dear Reader,

      Once upon a time there was a reader who believed so strongly in the magic of romance novels, she dreamed of creating one of her own. She put pen to paper and, later, fingers to the keyboard, and like the very best of spells, words wove together and became people, settings, conflict, emotion and finally, a story complete with a happily-ever-after. One day, after many missed carriages and a distinct lack of awesome shoes, her (very young and beautiful) fairy godmother called. She waved her wand and said the magic words: “We’d like to publish your book.”

      As I’m sure you guessed, I’m that reader, and because you’re holding this book in your hands, I’m also now a published author. Mills & Boon chose this story as the winner of the 2011 So You Think You Can Write competition, which has indeed been the most magical of journeys, and I’m so excited to be a part of the Mills & Boon^® family.

      I adore this story about a laid-back Southern hero who lacks only a spitfire heroine to keep him on his toes. Lucas and Cia are two of my favorite fictional people and I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

      I love to hear from readers—after all, I wrote this book for you! Please visit me at www.katcantrell.com.

       Kat Cantrell

About the Author

      KAT CANTRELL read her first Mills & Boon novel in primary school and has been scribbling in notebooks since she learned to spell. What else would she write but romance? She majored in literature, officially with the intent to teach, but somehow ended up buried in middle management at Corporate America, until she became a stay-at-home mum and full-time writer.

      Kat, her husband and their two boys live in north Texas. When she’s not writing about characters on the journey to happily-ever-after, she can be found at a football game, watching the TV show Friends or listening to eighties music.

      Kat was the 2011 So You Think You Can Write winner and a 2012 RWA Golden Heart finalist for best unpublished series contemporary manuscript.

      This one is for you, Mom.

      Thanks for sharing your love of books with me.

One

      Other single, twenty-five-year-old women dreamed of marriageable men and fairy-tale weddings, but Dulciana Allende dreamed of a divorce.

      And Lucas Wheeler was exactly the man to give it to her.

      Cia eyed her very male, very blond and very broad-shouldered target across the crowded reception hall. The display of wealth adorning the crush between her and Lucas bordered on garish. A doddering matron on her left wore a ring expensive enough to buy a year’s worth of groceries for the women’s shelter where Cia volunteered.

      But then, if Cia had the natural ability to coax that kind of cash out of donors, she wouldn’t be here in the middle of a Dallas society party, where she clearly did not belong, about to put plan B into action.

      There was no plan C.

      She knocked back the last swallow of the froufrou drink some clueless waiter had shoved into her hand. After she’d put considerable effort into securing a last-minute invitation to Mrs. Wheeler’s birthday party, the least she could do was play along and drink whatever lame beverage the Black Gold Club pretended had alcohol in it. If she pulled off this negotiation, Mrs. Wheeler would be her future mother-in-law, and Cia did want to make a favorable impression.

      Well, Mrs. Wheeler was also her future ex-mother-in-law, so perhaps the impression didn’t matter overly much.

      A guy near the bar tried to catch her eye, but she kept walking. Tonight, she cared about only one man and, conveniently, he stood next to his mother greeting guests. Cia’s unfamiliar heels and knee-binding slim dress slowed her trek across the room. Frustrating but fortunate, since a giraffe on roller blades had her beat in the grace department.

      “Happy birthday, Mrs. Wheeler.” Cia shook the hand of the stylish, fifty-something woman and smiled. “This is a lovely party. Dulciana Allende. Pleased to meet you.”

      Mrs. Wheeler returned the smile. “Cia Allende. My, where has the time gone? I knew your parents socially. Such a tragedy to lose them at the same time.” She clucked maternally.

      Cia’s smile faltered before she could catch it. Of course Mrs. Wheeler had known her parents. She just didn’t know Cia’s stomach lurched every time someone mentioned them in passing.

      “Lucas, have you met Cia?” Mrs. Wheeler drew him forward. “Her grandfather owns Manzanares Communications.”

      Cia made eye contact with the man she planned to marry and fell headfirst into the riptide of Lucas Wheeler in the flesh. He was so…everything. Beautiful. Dynamic. Legendary. Qualities the internet couldn’t possibly convey via fiber-optic lines.

      “Miz Allende.” Lucas raised her hand to his lips in an old-fashioned—and effective—gesture. And set off a whole different sort of lurch, this time someplace lower. No, no, no. Attraction was not acceptable. Attraction unsettled her, and when she was unsettled, she came out with swords drawn.

      “Wheeler.” She snatched her hand from his in a hurry. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone who so closely resembles a Ken doll.”

      His mother, bless her, chatted with someone else and thankfully didn’t hear Cia’s mouth working faster than her brain. Social niceties weren’t her forte, especially when it came to men. How had she fooled