The French Connection

The French Connection
Tracy Kelleher

Croissants and cafe au lait, anyone?Shelley McCleery had hoped to sneak in a little sightseeing on her business trip to France, but hadn't anticipated international art thievery, fake drawings, an incredibly hot heir–or his crazy, yet caring family of Bourbon aristocrats who would like to adopt her, rather than negotiate with her!But Shelley's got a job to do and she's trying hard not to get entangled in the family's domestic dramas. Yet the harder she tries, the more she's charmed by their old-world ways. Will Shelley survive this trip with her mind, heart and career intact? Maybe not…and maybe she just wouldn't mind….Oooh, la la!

Dear Reader,

Some of my most vivid memories stem from living in southern France. The breathtaking scenery. The dramatic archeological sites and art. The fabulous food and wine. The frustration of explaining in French over the telephone why I really needed to have the window of my ground-floor apartment on a busy street in Marseilles fixed immediately! Then there was the washing machine that managed approximately four items per load and took two hours.

I knew when I was writing this Flipside story that I had to incorporate some of my experiences. And while I didn’t run across any mystery or stolen works of art on my adventures, I was lucky enough to enjoy the generous hospitality of the local residents. Talk about a special part of the world!

Hope you enjoy your trip to Provence,

Tracy Kelleher

P.S. I love to hear from my readers. Check out my Web site: www.tracykelleher.com (http://www.tracykelleher.com), or e-mail directly at tracyk@tracykelleher.com (mailto:tracyk@tracykelleher.com).

Shelley squared her shoulders and stood up a little straighter.

“I know it probably sounds ridiculous to someone like you, a Count, but the real reason I decided, no, I insisted on coming here was to prove that I could venture out of my airless office, that I could abandon my boring life of picking up dry cleaning for my ex-boyfriend and having my best friend lecture me on which fork to use and not complaining when the coffee guy gives me the wrong change in the morning. Because I want to confront the world head-on, even if it means risking failure.”

She was completely out of breath. Well, no one ever said confronting the world head-on was easy.

She waited for Edmond to say something. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he took her clenched hand in his. “I don’t think it sounds ridiculous.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” He shook his head, and for the first time in the conversation, Edmond smiled. A real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I think it sounds…completely honest. And just like you, just like the Shelley that I find so…”

The French Connection

Tracy Kelleher

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A former newspaper reporter and editor, Tracy Kelleher swears by the benefits of writing to a deadline, wearing Italian shoes and occasionally glancing at a treadmill. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, two sons and a dog named Jack.

Books by Tracy Kelleher

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

908—EVERYBODY’S HERO

949—IT’S ALL ABOUT EVE…

994—THE TRUTH ABOUT HARRY

To my agent, Paige Wheeler—the start of a beautiful friendship.

And to Jean-Paul and Mimi—many thanks for introducing me to a magical part of the world.

Contents

Prologue (#u7c52f8a9-986f-5689-8d5c-730619d4d755)

Chapter 1 (#u9ad4ae0e-dddd-58df-8d7d-42a26b81893c)

Chapter 2 (#u315857bd-0b99-5945-b9f4-8f68f677f20e)

Chapter 3 (#u70102087-4369-5d30-9f08-3c56cabb6b8f)

Chapter 4 (#uf16c4812-d983-5c44-a70b-e57e854cc530)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue

W. C. FIELDS GOT IT WRONG, Shelley McCleery thought. All things considered, she’d rather be anywhere but in Philadelphia.

And that old adage about April showers bringing May flowers? Someone should have told the City of Brotherly Love. It was May and it was pouring buckets, enough to leave six inches of standing water at every major intersection in Center City. Shelley had actually seen someone attach pontoons to his wheelchair.

And, p-le-ease, if one more perky TV weatherman said the rain was good for the farmers, she was personally going to shove his Doppler radar where the sun didn’t shine. “Come off it,” she’d informed the cashier at Starbucks earlier that morning. “The nearest agricultural region is southern New Jersey, and nobody—I mean, nobody—cares about Jersey.”

He’d nodded and given her the wrong change.

Now inside, things weren’t much better. The conference room of Dream Villas Enterprises may have been dry, but it was so stuffy, even the philodendron perched atop the filing cabinet—a plant propagated to withstand the abuse of countless bank lobbies and orthodontists’ offices—had packed it in more than three weeks ago.