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  “If having you back means the world will think I’m a fool for believing in love at first sight——”

  Oh God, why wouldn’t he stop?

  “I’d gladly shout it to the world then. I’m a fool. I’m a fool for you, Isla, and always will be.”

  She watched him bring her fingers to his mouth, and the feel of his lips touching her skin made her bite back a cry. It was like coming to life – because, despite everything, he, too, was his life.

  Her emerald gaze met his, and Sean swallowed hard at what he saw in it.

  Forgiveness.

  Love.

  And a promise of a future so damn sweet that it took his breath away –

  “It’s okay now.”

  Sean felt his own eyes start to sting. God. It was just like her – so damn like her to forgive so easily. Even when she had the right to make him suffer, even when they both knew she was better off without a fool like him –

  “How did I get so lucky?”

  Isla couldn’t help crying at the raggedness of his tone, and she cried even harder at the way his hands shook as he touched her face, his fingers moving with such hesitation it was as if he was trying to assure himself she was indeed real and not some damn hallucination his desperate mind had conjured.

  This man loved her.

  And she had finally found a place where she belonged.

  Epilogue

  It was the twenty-fifth of December, and the hotel where the Bouchards were forced to spend the night before had cheerfully prepared for the advent of Christmas with all the seasonal trappings: a festively decorated tree at the lobby, wreaths and mistletoes all around, and Mariah Carey and Justin Bieber singing All I Want for Christmas Is You in the background. There was also a hotel employee dressed as Santa’s elf stationed next to the elevator, and she greeted the Bouchards a Merry Christmas as she handed them complimentary of sugar cookies and candy canes.

  “Err, thank you.” Thomas stared blankly at his bag of treats. While he didn’t particularly hate the idea of Christmas, he didn’t like how the holiday forced him to confront the emptiness of existence.

  Isabella, however, had very strong feelings against it, and she didn’t hesitate to return the bag to the hotel employee, saying coldly, “No, thanks.” She had always found Christmas and everything that went with it – such as singing carols and giving each other gifts – too disgustingly emotional and pedestrian for her tastes.

  And as for India, well – she was young, vapid, and stupid enough to hate it simply because her mother hated it, and so she gave hers back to Santa’s elf as well.

  Jonathan stood up as soon as he saw his soon-to-be-ex-wife and her parents coming out of the elevator. He used to be a fairly attractive man, but guilt over his infidelity had taken a toll on his appearance, and he had taken to drinking the moment he found out that India had lied about her pregnancy. Now, he was but a shell of the man he once was, and he didn’t care. He deserved everything that had happened to him for betraying Isla, and now...

  Jonathan smiled at the way India’s disapproving gaze raked over his appearance. He knew how he looked: eyes red because of his nightly hangovers, unshaven beard, and crumpled clothing that despite being one size larger was unable to hide his paunch.

  “You look horrible, Jon.”

  “I make an effort to,” he told her truthfully, “just so people can laugh at you for going behind your sister’s back.”

  India turned red. “Bastard!”

  But Jonathan had already turned his back on her. “You should see this,” he told Thomas as he handed the older man the local daily.

  Isabella saw her husband frown. “What is it?”

  “There’s a news article about Isla,” Thomas answered reluctantly. “It says she’s asked the court for a reversal of the adoption.”

  His wife let out a screech of outrage. “That bitch!”

  Theirs was a small town, and Isabella knew people had already started to talk. She had seen the neighbors’ curtains twitch when they had been evicted out of their own home last night, and now – with this damn news article – people would no longer be able to help themselves. They would start asking her questions, and she would never be able to even defend herself because of that damn man’s threat.

  “I honestly don’t see any problem with that,” India inserted in a bored tone. “Isn’t it better she’s no longer a part—-”

  Isabella’s teeth gnashed. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

  India gasped. “Mother!”

  “You can’t blame her for taking after you, dear,” Thomas murmured.

  It was Isabella’s turn to gasp. “Thomas!”

  Jonathan wished he had the time to enjoy the scene unfolding before him, preferably with some popcorn to munch on. Unfortunately, he couldn’t allow it to distract him and so he cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “That’s not the only thing, I’m afraid.” He checked his watch and saw it was five minutes past eleven.

  Isabella’s gaze narrowed at seeing Jonathan check the time. “Are you expecting someone?”

  Anytime now, he thought. Out loud, he said, “You could say that.”

  “Are they anyone we know?” Isabella cast a frowning look at their rather empty surroundings as she asked her question. It had just occurred to her that the Santa Catalina Hotel, which was usually where all of the town’s wealthiest locals had breakfast on Christmas, was quite empty. Where was everyone?

  She had her answer not a second later when the sound of applause reached them as the doors of the hotel’s main ballroom were thrown open. People started coming out, cheering and laughing, and Isabella was stunned to see that she knew all of them.

  The flow of people seemed endless, and Isabella turned to her husband, asking, “Do you know of any town event scheduled today?” How can they, the Bouchards, not be invited to an event where everyone who was someone was invited?

  “I can’t seem to think of any,” Thomas murmured.

  “Mother,” India suddenly hissed. “Everyone’s looking at us.”

  Isabella quickly spun back and her face went stiff when she realized it was exactly as her daughter said. Even worse, everyone wasn’t just looking at them. They were talking about them, too. Was this about the news article?

  People suddenly started cheering again, and soon after a beautifully dressed couple came out. Their attires gave them away – the man in his tux, the bride in her long, white gown (were those real diamonds attached to her train?).

  “Whose wedding could it be?” Isabella muttered under her breath.

  Jonathan smirked. “Isla’s of course.”

  And then he strolled towards the newlyweds to congratulate the pair. The billionaire had given him the chance to atone for his mistake, and he had taken it gladly. Looking over his shoulder, he told a fuming India, “Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  Isla had a hard time not looking at the Bouchards as she and her billionaire husband walked past them. She wanted to, though, but it was the one and only thing Sean had put his foot down on. He had agreed to Isla’s plea not to do anything against her parents or even India, but Sean had also made her promise not to have anything to do with them.

  I don’t like seeing you hurt, he had told her grimly, and people like them will always hurt you. If you don’t want me to destroy them – then keep away from them for their sakes.

  She had of course said yes, and while she had loved how protective he was towards her – no one had ever cherished Isla the way Sean did – ignoring her family turned out to be easier said than done. It was simply not in her nature to hold grudges, and as they stepped out of the hotel, she lifted her face to Sean –

  His mouth took hers in a sweet, hard, toe-curling kiss.

  “What was that for?” she asked dazedly when Sean finally let her breathe.

  He raised a brow. “I thought you were asking me to kiss you.”

  A giggle escaped her at the utter seriousness of his tone. “Umm,
no.”

  He dealt her a curious look as he helped her down the steps. “What is it then?” Their bridal car was already waiting for them, a yet-unreleased model of Rolls Royce that had their guests excitedly taking photos.

  “Don’t you think we’re being unnecessarily cruel?” she asked uneasily under her tone.

  His handsome face softened. “No, sugar.” It was just like Isla to forgive her family at the first sign of their torment. “They’re the ones guilty of that.” And as far as he was concerned, turning the Bouchards into social pariahs was nothing compared to how they had mistreated Isla her entire life.

  The chauffeur opened the door for them, and Sean pressed a hand to the small of her back. “Isla?”

  She gnawed on her lip. “Can’t we—-” She stiffened. “Sean?”

  He couldn’t possibly...

  “Sean?”

  And then she felt it again.

  Oh my God, he really was unzipping her dress.

  “Sean!”

  “Distraction,” he whispered into ear – just before biting it – and she cried out. There was time enough for her to think about the Bouchards. For now, though, the billionaire made sure that his Christmas bride thought only of him as he took her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss.

  The last glimpse the wedding guests had of the newlyweds were the bride falling on her back and her handsome groom looming over her, and as the door shut closed, the last thing they heard was the bride moaning, “Sean, no—-” followed by the distinct sound of something ripping.

  The End

  The Billionaire Rancher's Unwanted Wife

  Book Three

  Billionaire cattle rancher Nicholas Sutherland was one of San Antonio's Finest Eligibles, aka what the media loved to call as SAFE.

  But today, he found out he was no longer eligible, with his teenage son having forged his signature to serve as Nicholas' proxy groom in a mail-order marriage.

  Tabitha "Bee" Sandler couldn't stop pinching herself. Her beautiful and devastatingly sexy husband Nicholas was ideal in every way, and even more amazing was how he seemed to feel the same towards her. Life was perfect...until she found out it was all a lie, and Nicholas had only been pretending all along.

  Chapter One

  A ray of sunshine, that was what the others liked to think of Tabitha "Bee" Sandler. The girl always had a smile to brighten their days, kind words to comfort those who had lost sight of hope, and in times of great tension, the girl even did her best to crack a joke or two, never mind if she was woefully bad at it. Indeed, that flaw of hers was what usually succeeded in cooling everyone's tempers down. How could one stay mad, after all, when someone managed to hilariously mess up something as simple as a knock-knock joke?

  A ray of sunshine, that she was, but some also thought of her as their town's little Job, the Old Testament prophet whom Satan cursed and plagued in his quest to prove that Man could and would always turn away from God in the face of adversity.

  But Job did not. He had stayed faithful, and so had their own little Job.

  Once the carefree and lovingly pampered daughter of a young, hardworking couple, the first of many tragedies had befallen Bee when she was eleven, and an unsolved hit-and-run claimed the lives of her parents. And although Bee's beloved Great Aunt Lily readily took her in, misfortune made the girl's second chance at happiness rather short-lived. What was supposed to be a routine checkup at the office revealed the very worst: Lily had cancer, and whatever savings the older woman had were instantly wiped away by costly medications and treatments.

  At sixteen, Bee - in spite of her bedridden aunt's pleas to the contrary - had quit high school and started working at the largest factory in town. But three years had only passed when her great aunt passed away, and Bee was all alone.

  But still she remained a ray of sunshine, doing what she could to care and help, and treating the folks at the factory as her extended family. She insisted on babysitting for free, saying that having fun with kids was enough compensation, and when Old George fell and broke his ankle, Bee had cheerfully cooked meals and kept house for him until he was back on his feet.

  Their beloved ray of sunshine, that what what she was to all of them, and it was also why everyone at the factory were struggling with tears and impotent rage as they watched her run out of the manager's office, clutching her torn blouse to her chest.

  For their little ray of sunshine, they would've fought and to hell with the consequences. To hell with losing their jobs. To hell with everything. But because their little Bee was what she was, she had shaken her head, her eyes pleading with them in tearful silence.

  I wouldn't be able to bear it if anyone of you lost your jobs because of me.

  And so they let her go, their little ray of sunshine fading before their eyes, and their hearts breaking piece by piece as she disappeared from view.

  WAKE UP AT SIX, SHOWER, and breakfast. Be at work by seven and clock out at six. Work on a variety of errands until seven or eight, and then it was home until it was time to leave again and start another cycle of her daily routine.

  With the exception of attending mass every Sunday, that had been Bee's life for over seven years now, and not once had it occurred to her to complain to God. Having inherited her parents' good-natured disposition and cheerful tolerance, Bee didn't find it hard at all to shrug off every problem that came her way. She cried over some of it, of course, but after that, she simply took it day by day, believing that moving on was both a choice and an inevitable outcome.

  The only guilty pleasure she allowed herself all these years were her mail-order bride romances, used paperbacks that a co-worker at the factory bought for her every time she went to visit her daughter in the city.

  There was just something wildly inspiring and romantic about a woman gambling everything for love, and every time life started getting to her, Bee would simply close her eyes and deliberately lose herself in a fantasy based on her favorite books.

  It worked every time, or at least it did...until now.

  Bee was a trembling, weeping mess as she sat on her bed, skin still crawling at the memory of Horace Garris' large, sweaty hands pawing at her and his slobbering mouth leaving a disgustingly wet trail on the side of her neck. She had only managed to tear herself out of his arms by kneeing him but not before he had ripped her blouse open and leave her exposed.

  He had screamed invectives in between his groans of pain, threatening to have her fired and arrested if she didn't show him respect.

  A choked sob escaped Bee as she remembered this. Self-respect was all she had, and she just couldn't let someone like Horace take that away from her.

  THE LIBRARIAN SMILED in welcome when Bee came in and asked if she could use of the computers. "Of course, dear." Emily made no mention of Bee's noticeably swollen eyes and too-bright smile. News traveled fast, and while the rich folks believed in Horace's version of the story - she's a slut, wanted me to pay before I tried out the goods, then cried rape when I said I'm no idiot like the boys she fooled around with - Emily and her kind knew better. They had all noticed Horace's interest in Bee from the very start. Bee might be a little plain, but even at sixteen she had already possessed a full figure, and while years of too much work and too little food had left her painfully thin, this had only served to emphasize the girl's voluptuous abundance.

  Sympathy squeezed the librarian's heart as she turned to where Bee sat, with the girl's frowning gaze focused on the monitor before her. Poor girl, Emily thought. While no one would have wished for Horace to attack Bee that way, maybe it was the final push the girl needed to leave their town for good.

  Unknown to Emily, similar thoughts were already going through Bee's head. She had come to the library to access her email, and more importantly, answer the latest mail from Danny.

  Their correspondence had begun when a marketing email arrived at her inbox three months ago. It was from a matchmaking agency that specialized, of all things, in mail order marriages. It had seemed too much
of a coincidence, but then after a bit of research, she found out that Google, Facebook, and the likes had a way of utilizing user data to come up with targeted advertising. So maybe, her interest in mail order bride romances was the reason she had gotten such an email?

  After a bit more online snooping, she had signed up for an account, seeing that the website had promised complete anonymity and wouldn't even require her to send a photo. All it wanted was a description of her profile and a short explanation of what she was looking for in a marriage.

  A month after registration, she had gotten an email from an eighteen-year-old university student named Daniel. They had exchanged almost daily emails since then, with the younger boy, whom she liked to call Danny, constantly entertaining her with funny little anecdotes about ranch life.

  You'll love it here, Bee. Just say the word, and Dad will have the papers ready. You'll be my new mom, you'll be married to Dad, and we'll all live happily ever after.

  It had all sounded too good to be true, and even as poor, lonely, and desperate as she were, Bee had been unable to let go of all her fears and worries. Common sense had warned her about the whole thing being a scam, and every day, she had struggled against the urge to write back to Danny and say, Yes.

  But everything had changed now.

  Everything.

  She had seen how the wealthier folks in town had started looking at her, the looks of disgust and contempt that they threw her way. It was clear as the light of day that Horace hadn't wasted any time spreading lies about her, and they had all chosen to believe him without even asking for her side of the story.

  Bee knew she could lodge a complaint against the factory manager, and that to do so was the right thing to do.

  But if she did that, it would mean having to stay and fight, see things through until the end. And she didn't think she could bear staying another day in this town.

  It was time to move on, Bee told herself as she began to type her reply.