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Category: Romance
Description: Bud Jones has a two-way plot going. Henrietta was hired to pretend she's his nanny, but thinks her real job is to ferret out which of his moocher relatives is the most deserving to inherit his vast wealth. At the same time, those moochers are helping him stir up a romance between adorable Henri and his lawyer. They do this by being mean to her whenever possible. Only Tristan is aware that lawyer Logan is a womanizer. Throughout it all, Henri eventually discovers true love.
eBook Publisher: SynergEbooks, 2009 SynergEbooks
eBookwise Release Date: November 2009

Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [400 KB]
Words: 79859
Reading time: 228-319 min.

Prologue

He had been the most important thing in her life, and now he was gone. Fate could be so cruel sometimes. You'd coast along, pieces of the puzzle known as life falling into proper place, creating a false sense of security. Then WHAM! Destruction in the twinkling of an eye.

Henrietta Cooper grimaced at the body parts now liberally covering the tile floor in her kitchen. If only she'd been more careful, none of this would have happened. It was remarkable how a person took for granted that a common, everyday spoon was harmless. Proof to the contrary lay at her feet. Henri couldn't have felt more like a murderess. Making matters worse, she was faced with cleaning up the horrid mess. It would be a stroke of good luck if she didn't end up with blood on her hands.

Grimacing prematurely, the thirty-one year old woman began picking up fragments of her fallen hero. Naturally, her mind wandered back in time to when she'd stood before that hero, in awe of his massive shoulders, bulging muscles, narrow waist, slim hips and powerful looking legs. She had stirred her hot chocolate too rapidly and the liquid sloshed onto her fingers. Leaping backwards with a yelp, shoving the cup away from herself, the spoon clenched in her hand actually knocked the nose right off her hero's face. That is when he tipped over backwards and crashed to the floor. The nine-hundred and ten glass containers that Henri had so laboriously super-glued together had shattered. John Wayne, her cowboy hero, no longer existed.

Shrugging, Henri gingerly stepped over to the supply closet and grabbed a broom and dust pan. In two weeks, on October twenty-eighth, the Amateur Artist Contest would be held at the Civic Center. Her entry was now in shards. There definitely wasn't enough time to scrounge up sufficient containers, let alone create another statue. Unless she switched media to something like, oh, say wire coat hangers?

Henri was determined to give it her best shot, because the prize money would be enough to keep her financially afloat for a month. By then her automatic raise should have come through at the supermarket, and once more her cash flow would almost keep up with the ever rising cost of living.