LITMIR.BIZ

      EMILY McKAY

       “Well?” she prodded.

      He gripped her shoulders, resisting the urge to shake her. “Stop. Interrupting. Me.”

      Her chin bumped up and she glared at him through stormy eyes.

      Suddenly he couldn’t remember what it was he’d been about to say. All he could think was that this was what he’d wanted for the past two months. He wanted to sleep with her. To strip her clothes off, lay her bare before him in a proper bed and spend hours worshipping her body.

      “Well?” she demanded again. “Is that the best you can do?”

      “No,” he said. “This is.”

      Cupping her jaw in his hands, he shut her up the best way he knew how. He kissed her.

      About the Author

      EMILY MCKAY has been reading romance novels since she was eleven years old. Her first romance came free in a box of garbage bags. She has been reading and loving romance novels ever since. She lives in Texas with her husband, her newborn daughter and too many pets. Her books have been finalists for RWA’s Golden Heart Award, the Write Touch Readers’ Award and the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence. Her debut novel, Baby, Be Mine, was a RITA® Award finalist for Best First Book and Best Short Contemporary. To learn more, visit her website at www.EmilyMcKay.com.

      Dear Reader,

      Affair with the Rebel Heiress is a very special book for me, not only because I love these characters and felt honoured to tell their story (I always feel that way), but also because it marks an anniversary for me: it’s my tenth book!

      I’ve been reading romances since I was eleven. I literally grew up reading Mills & Boon novels, Desire books and the old Bantam Loveswept titles. I spent so much money at the bookstore that my parents actually complained about it. (How crazy is that?)

      Every time I turn in a book, or see the cover for the first time, or hold my book in my hands, I get this electric shock of excitement. I love being part of the Harlequin/ Mills & Boon family, and I can’t tell you how proud I am to have my tenth book with them out this month!

      Now, about that book … Some of you may remember Kitty Biedermann from Baby Benefits, which was out in 2008. She was Derek Messina’s fiancée. She was the classic romance novel “other woman”— manipulative and self-centered. When I decided I wanted her to be the heroine of my next book, I knew I was facing a challenge. How could I transform her into a character people would love? I gave her plenty of spunk and sass along with a secret she’ll go to great lengths to keep hidden. And of course, she had to have a great hero with whom to match wits. Enter Ford Langley, a charming business tycoon who’s just not the type to back down from a challenge.

      Did I pull it off? I think so. I hope you do, too!

       Emily McKay

      For my mother, Judy Beierle, who has taught me over and over to smile in the face of adversity, to meet challenges with bravery and hope, and to always, always find something to laugh about.

      One

      Kitty Biedermann hated Texas.

      That single thought had echoed through her mind from the time the flight attendant had said the words “unscheduled landing in Midland, Texas,” until this moment, five hours later, when she found herself sitting in the bar adjacent the seedy motel in which she would be forced to spend the night.

      The last time she’d been in Texas, she’d been dumped by her fiancé. Of course, he hadn’t been just any old fiancé. He’d been the man she’d handpicked to save Biedermann Jewelry from financial ruin. So being dumped hadn’t resulted in mere public humiliation or simple heartbreak. It meant the end of Biedermann Jewelry. So it was understandable that Kitty held a bit of grudge, not just against Derek Messina, but against the whole damn state.

      Since being dumped by Derek, her situation had gone from bad to worse to desperate. She had needed Derek.

      From the time she was a child, she’d been raised with one purpose—to land a husband with the smarts and business savvy to run Biedermann’s. When Derek hadn’t wanted her, she’d remained undaunted. But now, after six months of working her way through every single, eligible straight man she knew, she was beginning to feel … well, daunted.

      With this latest trip to Palm Beach, she’d been scraping the bottom of the barrel. Geoffrey barely had two functioning synapses to rub together, but at least he could read, write and looked damn good in a suit. But even as meager as his qualifications had been, he hadn’t wanted her.

      Biedermann’s meant everything to her. It was slipping through her fingers and there didn’t seem to be anything she could do to catch it.

      Now, with her elbows propped on the suspiciously sticky bar top and her chin propped in her palms, she stared at the murky green depths of her salt-rimmed margarita glass. She gave the glass a little shake, watching as the ice cubes within tumbled to the bottom of the glass. A lifetime of planning had fallen apart just as quickly. Was this rock bottom?

      Her throat tightened against despair. Immediately she straightened, blinking in surprise. She was not given to fits of self-pity. Certainly not in public.

      She shook her glass again, studying the contents. Exactly what was in this margarita? After a mere two drinks she should not be succumbing to such maudlin emotions.

      Maybe this was what she got for giving the bartender a hard time. When she’d ordered a Pinot Grigio, he’d asked, “Is that like a wine cooler?” Apparently she shouldn’t have doubted him when he said he’d make her a drink strong enough to knock her on her pampered, scrawny butt.

      She was still contemplating the contents of her drink when she happened to glance toward the door and saw him striding in.

      It was as if someone tossed a bucket of icy water on her. Every cell in her body snapped to life in pure visceral response. The stranger was tall and lean, somehow managing to look lanky but well-built all at the same time. He was dressed simply in well-worn jeans and a T-shirt that stretched taut across his shoulders, but hung loose over his abdomen. No beer belly on this guy. A cowboy hat sat cockeyed on his head, but he wore scuffed work boots instead of the cowboy boots she expected.

      Her first thought—when she was capable of thought again—was, Now this is a cowboy.

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