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Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress: Transformed Into the Frenchman's Mistress
Barbara Dunlop
Emilie Rose
Transformed Into the Frenchman’s Mistress Barbara Dunlop How had ambassador’s granddaughter Charlotte Hudson ended up on a wild movie assignment in an old Provençal château with notorious French playboy Alec Montcalm? The real action was going on behind the bedroom doors – beneath satin sheets. But Charlotte knew their sexy, secret liaison couldn’t last.Bargained Into Her Boss’s Bed Emilie RoseIn the fast-paced, cutthroat world of Hollywood, producer Max Hudson wouldn’t let anyone get in his way, especially not his assistant, Dana Fallon. Her tantalising curves wreaked havoc on his mind and his libido, but her sudden resignation caused chaos. Money wouldn’t sway her. Luckily, Max had other means of persuasion…THE HUDSONS OF BEVERLY HILLS Privilege and passion…all in the public eye!
Transformed Into
The Frenchman’s Mistress
by Barbara Dunlop
“You were beautiful that night,” Alec said, giving her figure a slow once-over.
Charlotte couldn’t contain herself. “I was twenty-two that night.”
“You didn’t have to take the key.”
“I was confused.” It had taken her a moment to realise the card he’d handed her was a hotel room key.
“You were tempted.”
“I’d known you for two minutes.” Other women might be tempted by a dashing aristocrat with money to burn, but Charlotte wasn’t interested in a fling.
“I’d been watching you for a lot longer than two minutes. You were attractive. You seemed interesting and intelligent, and by the way you were making all those other men laugh, I knew you had a sense of humour.”
“Giving me your room key was supposed to be funny?”
“I wanted to get to know you better.”
“It didn’t occur to you to ask me for coffee?”
“I’m not a patient man.”
Don’t miss the exclusive in-book short stories byUSA TODAY bestselling author Maureen Child after thelast page of Transformed Into the Frenchman’s Mistressand Bargained Into Her Boss’s Bed!
Bargained Into Her Boss’s Bed
by Emilie Rose
The urge to kiss Max awake was almost too strong for Dana to resist. Too bad almost didn’t count.
“Max,” she called quietly. He didn’t stir.
“Max,” she tried again, a little louder this time. Dana eased onto the cushion beside him. The warm proximity of his leg beside hers made her heart race. “Max, wake up.”
His eyelids slowly lifted and his unfocused gaze found hers. “Morning.” The groggy, rough timbre of his voice made her stomach muscles quiver. Wouldn’t she love to wake up to that every day?
His hand painted a hot path up her spine. She gasped. Then his fingers cupped her nape and he pulled her forwards. Warm lips covered hers. Shocked but thrilled, she responded for just a second before reality hit her on the head.
Who does he think he’s kissing?
Transformed
Into The
Frenchman’s
Mistress
By
Barbara Dunlop
Bargained Into
Her Boss’s Bed
By
Emilie Rose
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)
Transformed
Into The
Frenchman’s
Mistress
By
Barbara Dunlop
Dear Reader,
Is there anything more romantic than a château in the south of France, with picturesque gardens, a well-stocked wine cellar and hot hero? And who doesn’t love the thought of being whisked away to Paris, Rome and London in a private jet?
French aristocrat Alec Montcalm has it all: the looks, the pedigree, the money and all those gorgeous women. And Charlotte Hudson doesn’t trust him for a single second. Unfortunately, the favour she’s forced to ask is a test of her loyalty to her family. It’s a favour Alec is willing to grant her – for a price.
I hope you enjoy the newest instalment in the Hudsons’ saga!
Barbara Dunlop
Barbara Dunlop is a bestselling, award-winning author of numerous novels. Her books regularly hit bestseller lists for series romance, and she has twice been shortlisted for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA
Award.
Barbara lives in a log house in the Yukon Territory, where the bears outnumber people and moose browse the front yard. By day, she works as the Yukon’s Film Commissioner. By night, she pens romance novels in front of a roaring fire. Visit her website at www. barbaradunlop.com.
For Susie Ross
Chapter One
Slightly windblown, and more than a little jet-lagged, Charlotte Hudson found herself in France. A phone call from her brother, Jack, yesterday had cut short her tour with their grandfather, Ambassador Edmond Cassettes. The diplomatic contingent had been in New Orleans, where Charlotte and the ambassador were being wined, dined and entertained by the governor, a couple of senators and every Louisiana mayor with aspirations of doing business with the wealthy Mediterranean nation of Monte Allegro.
Then Jack had called, and now she was in Provence, pulling up to the Montcalm family château with a favor to ask. Her college friend Raine would be surprised to see her, but Charlotte was couting on Raine’s good nature to help her secure the favor. It was the first time her brother, or anyone on the Hudson side of the family, had included her in Hudson Pictures’ filmmaking business. And she desperately wanted to impress.
Charlotte had been raised in Europe by her maternal grandparents, while Jack was raised an ocean away in Hollywood by the Hudsons. She mad met the filmmaking dynasty of a family on only a couple of occasions. They were perfectly polite to her, but it was clear they were close-knit, and she was very much the outsider.
But now, terminally ill matriarch Lillian Hudson was determined to honor her late husband’s wishes by having Hudson Pictures bring their wartime romance to the big screen. The entire family had rallied around the project and decreed Château Montcalm was the perfect location.
Charlotte finally had a chance to participate in the Hudsons’ world.
She drew a breath, giving her straight skirt and matching ivory blazer a final tug as she approached the main doors of the Montcalm’s stately, three-story stone mansion. The doors were intimidating oversize planked walnut, inset with vintage beveled windows. The château was old-world and impressive. She knew it had been in the Montcalm family for a dozen generations, ever since some fiery warlord of a Montcalm ancestor had taken it in battle. Her friend Raine had quite the pedigree.
Charlotte took a breath and reached for the ornate doorbell, waiting only a moment until a formally dressed butler drew the door wide, his expression a study in formality and courtesy.
“Bonjour, madame.”
“Bonjour,” Charlotte returned. “I’m looking for Raine Montcalm.”
The man paused while he considered Charlotte’s appearance. “Do you have an appointment?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I’m Charlotte Hudson. Raine and I are friends. We were together at Oxford.”
“Mademoiselle Montcalm is unavailable.”
“But—”
“I do apologize.”
“Could you at least tell her I’m here?” She hoped Raine would become available if she heard Charlotte’s name.
“The mademoiselle is not currently in residence.”
Charlotte struggled to decide if she was getting the brush-off. “She’s really not here?”
He didn’t answer, but his expression became crisper and even more formal, if that was possible.
“Because, if you could just let her know—”
“A problem, Henri?” came a gravelly, masculine voice.
Oh no. Not Alec.
“Non, monsieur.”
Charlotte reflexively drew back as a tall, aristocratically handsome man moved into the doorway, displacing the butler. Raine’s brother was supposed to be in London. Charltte had seen his picture in the tabloids just yesterday, dancing at some posh nightclub on Whitehall.
“I’m afraid Raine’s away on—” He suddenly stopped speaking. A wolfish smile grew on his lips. “Charlotte Hudson.”
She didn’t answer.
“Thank you, Henri.” Alec’s dismissal was polite but clear, his gaze never leaving Charlotte.
As the butler drew back, Alec leaned indolently against the doorjamb. He wore a charcoal Caraceni suit, a classic white shirt and a dark silk tie that was scattered with bright red flecks. The flecks, it seemed, were miniatures of the Montcalm family crest, painstakingly embroidered into the fabric.
Her heart pounding with a mixture of awareness and trepidation, Charlotte decided to bluff. She held out her hand and gave him a breezy smile. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.”
At least that part wasn’t a lie. There’d been nothing remotely formal about their one and only meeting. It had been humiliating, and her only defense was to pretend she’d forgotten all about it.
“Oh, we’ve been introduced, Ms. Hudson.” His warm, callused hand closed over hers, sending a shiver along her spine.
She painstakingly schooled her features, raising her brow in question.
“Three years ago.” He cocked his head to one side, clearly challenging her to acknowledge him.
She held her ground.
“The Ottobrate Ballo in Rome,” he continued, eyes mocking. “I asked you to dance.”
He’d done a lot more than ask. He’d nearly derailed her career in under five minutes.
Rome had been one of her first official assignments as her grandfather’s executive assistant. Becoming his official E.A. had been a big step for her, and she’d been nervous all night, anxious to do well.
Alec’s smile widened as he watched her expression. “It’s etched very firmly in my mind,” he told her.
“I don’t—”
“Sure you do,” he countered softly, and they both knew he was right. “And you liked it.”
Too true.
“But then Ambassador Cassettes stepped in.”
Thank goodness for her grandfather.
“Charlotte?” Alec prompted.
She pretended she’d only just remembered. “You tried to give me your room key,” she accused with a stern frown.
“And you took it.”
“I didn’t know what it was.” She’d been twenty-two years old, a neophyte on the diplomatic circuit, and he’d been right there, poised to take advantage of her.
He chuckled his disbelief, and she glared at him.
