Infamous. Jane Porter

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      About the Author

      JANE PORTER grew up on a diet of Mills & Boon^® romances, reading late at night under the covers so her mother wouldn’t see! She wrote her first book at age eight and spent many of her school and college years living abroad, immersing herself in other cultures and continuing to read voraciously. Now Jane has settled down in rugged Seattle, Washington, with her gorgeous husband and two sons. Jane loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 524, Bellevue, WA 98009, USA. Or visit her website at www.janeporter.com.

      Dear Reader,

      I met Caitlin Crews in 2005 at a publishers’ splashy launch party in New York City. Caitlin and I shared the same editor and my editor had sent me Caitlin’s first novel, thinking I would enjoy it. I had. But I was secretly rather envious of Caitlin’s smart voice and distinctive style and meeting her in person only made me more insecure. Caitlin is blonde, beautiful, brainy, and so very funny. There was no way I could compete. Over the next few years Caitlin and I were thrown together time and again. But I still wasn’t quite sure what to do with her.

      Then came one holiday when we were both in Hawaii with our respective spouses. We met up for dinner in Waikiki and Caitlin told me she’d started reading my Mills & Boon novels and loved them. She said she was a fan. I said she was ridiculous. She made me feel clever and I loved how funny and smart and interesting she was. During the next year I began to turn to Caitlin for writing advice and input on my women’s fiction manuscripts. We shared our favourite books with each other. We talked about life. And men. And love.

      Over the years I learned to trust and treasure Caitlin for her honesty and strength and insight. I loved her warmth and loyalty to her friends. I loved having her in my life. And then one day she casually mentioned that she’d been working on a manuscript for Mills & Boon^® Modern™ and would I be willing to look at the first couple of chapters? I told her to send them ASAP and I read them in one sitting. I was blown away. I loved Caitlin’s voice and style and insisted she finish the story. She did.

      The rest is history. That first book sold and Caitlin has since written ten amazing stories for Mills & Boon Modern. Caitlin is a true star. But even more importantly, she’s one of my dearest friends. I adore her and am so happy and proud to be in this book with her. Welcome Caitlin to the Modern family!

      Yours,

       Jane

      With love for my sister, Kathy Porter.

      PROLOGUE

      THE WEDDING WAS NOT supposed to happen.

      This was a charade, a job she’d been hired to do. But the charade was supposed to have ended long before they ever went to the altar.

      Long, Alexandra Shanahan silently repeated, clenching her bouquet of lilies, blue hydrangeas, white orchids and violet freesias tighter between stiff clammy hands.

      This was all such a horrible mistake she couldn’t even concentrate on the minister’s words.

      My God, she didn’t even like Wolf Kerrick. Even four weeks of being squired around Hollywood as his newest love interest hadn’t endeared the man to her.

      In fact, four weeks of playing his girlfriend had only made her dislike him more. He was horrible in every sense of the word.

      He was too rich, too successful, too powerful. He was too much of everything, and that alone made her uncomfortable, but the fact that he didn’t respect women infuriated her. He treated women like playthings, taking what he wanted, when he wanted, and discarding without remorse when inexplicably bored.

      And now she was his wife.

      Alexandra swallowed, stunned, silenced, undone.

      She, who could handle anything, she who never wavered in the face of danger, she who took risks and loved challenge, welcoming adversity with open arms, was now married to the world’s most famous film star.

      Spots danced before Alexandra’s eyes and she gulped in air, trying to clear the fog from her head. If she didn’t know herself better, she’d think she was going to faint.

      She couldn’t faint.

      It was too much of a photo opportunity.

      She must have inhaled too sharply, because suddenly Wolf’s hand was at her elbow.

      “You better not faint,” he growled in his rough accented English, a sexy combination of Irish and Spanish vowels that left women weak at the knees. But that was Wolf’s magic.

      He was the quintessential bad boy, times a thousand, and everybody’s celluloid dream.

      Six

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