Sharon Swan - Four-Karat Fiancee

You are cordially invited to the Surprise Wedding of Ex-Libris Bookstore owner Amanda Bradley and Heartbreak Saloon keeper William “Dev” Devlin.

Time: Sunday afternoon

Place: Heartbreak Saloon

Join Shelly and Connor O’Rourke and all of Millionaire, Montana, as we celebrate the sacred, albeit swift, union of Main Street’s much-loved contenders—er, couple—as they begin their married and family life together.

(Special attention should be paid to one Louise Pearson, stuffed-shirt social worker seeking to expose Dev and Amanda’s marriage as a means to keep Liza, Caleb, Patrick and Betsy in the family fold.)

Harlequin American Romance presents MILLIONAIRE, MONTANA, where twelve lucky souls have won a multimillion-dollar jackpot.

Six titles in this captivating series—

JACKPOT BABY by Muriel Jensen

(HAR #953)

BIG-BUCKS BACHELOR by Leah Vale

(HAR #957)

SURPRISE INHERITANCE by Charlotte Douglas

(HAR #961)

FOUR-KARAT FIANCÉE by Sharon Swan

(HAR #966)

PRICELESS MARRIAGE by Bonnie Gardner

(HAR #970)

FORTUNE’S TWINS by Kara Lennox

(HAR #974)

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another wonderful month at Harlequin American Romance. You’ll notice our covers have a brand-new look, but rest assured that we still have the editorial you know and love just inside.

What a lineup we have for you, as reader favorite Muriel Jensen helps us celebrate our 20th Anniversary with her latest release. That Summer in Maine is a beautiful tale of a woman who gets an unexpected second chance at love and family with the last man she imagines. And author Sharon Swan pens the fourth title in our ongoing series MILLIONAIRE, MONTANA. You won’t believe what motivates ever-feuding neighbors Dev and Amanda to take a hasty trip to the altar in Four-Karat Fiancée.

Speaking of weddings, we have two other tales of marriage this month. Darlene Scalera pens the story of a jilted bride on the hunt for her disappearing groom in May the Best Man Wed. (Hint: the bride may just be falling for her husband-to-be’s brother.) Dianne Castell’s High-Tide Bride has a runaway bride hiding out in a small town where her attraction to the local sheriff is rising just as fast as the flooding river.

So sit back and enjoy our lovely new look and the always-quality novels we have to offer you this—and every—month at Harlequin American Romance.

Best Wishes,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Four-Karat Fiancée

Sharon Swan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Muriel, Leah, Charlotte, Bonnie and Karen, who made doing this story so special And for Melissa Jeglinski, who brought us together creating a town to remember

Born and raised in Chicago, Sharon Swan once dreamed of dancing for a living. Instead, she surrendered to life’s more practical aspects, settled for an office job, concentrated on typing and being a Chicago Bears fan. Sharon never seriously considered writing a career until she moved to the Phoenix area and met Pierce Brosnan at a local shopping mall. It was a chance meeting that changed her life because she found herself thinking, what if? What if two fictional characters had met the same way? That formed the basis for her next novel, and she’s now cheerfully addicted to writing contemporary romance and playing what if?

Sharon loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 21324, Mesa, AZ 85277.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

912—COWBOYS AND CRADLES

928—HOME-GROWN HUSBAND *

939—HUSBANDS, HUSBANDS…EVERYWHERE! *

966—FOUR-KARAT FIANCÉE

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Maybe he should just grab her up and kiss her.

William Devlin fisted his gloved hands at his sides and debated the merits of that plan. At least, he thought, it would keep Amanda Bradley quiet for a while. It was hard to believe that most folks in Jester, Montana, considered this woman a prime example of a real lady. Then again, she wasn’t tearing into most of Jester’s small population on a regular basis. Only him.

For two years, ever since she’d opened her fancy bookstore in the same building that was home to his saloon, he’d been treated to complaints about his business. And for the past six months, with some hard-earned savings in hand at last, he’d been offering to buy her share of the old, sprawling building so he could finally have some peace. Too bad it didn’t look as if he were getting any, because she kept turning him down flat.

“So I’m asking for the umpteenth time what you intend to do about the constant commotion.” Amanda huffed out the words as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her camelhair coat.

Dev tugged the wide brim of his tan Stetson down a notch and reined in his temper, barely. More griping was the last thing he needed on a snowy January evening cold enough to freeze a man’s blood in his veins. What had made him think that he wanted to take a walk anyway? Two steps out of the Heartbreaker Saloon and he’d found himself being confronted by Amanda’s righteous indignation right in the middle of Main Street. Again.

“Look, bars aren’t the quietest places in the world, but I told you I’d try to keep a lid on things,” he replied with all the reasonableness he could muster. Despite his efforts, the words came out gruff. Hell, he used to have a talent for sweet-talking a woman. And he still did, Dev told himself.

Any woman but this one.

Every now and then he’d look at her and forget that she was one ornery female—because she wasn’t bad-looking, he had to admit. She was…petite, he guessed was the word, with a neat and trim figure that could draw a man’s glance. And there was no denying that the long, light brown hair she usually held back with a shiny clip at the nape of her neck had a glossy sheen to it. Her oval face, straight little nose and clear brown eyes were attractive enough to win some notice, as well.

But it was her mouth that for some reason fascinated him.

“I know what you told me,” she said, putting a swift end to his reflections, “and just this afternoon two of your patrons almost came to blows right in front of my store.”

“Probably a slight difference of opinion,” he muttered, lifting a broad shoulder clad in a sheepskin-lined suede jacket. Being put on the defensive didn’t please him one blasted bit.

“Humph.” She raised her chin another haughty level. “I don’t suppose the drinks they downed at your bar had anything to do with it, Mr. Macho.”

He had nearly had it. It irritated him no end when she used that nickname she’d come up with for him, one that typically had him retaliating with a private nickname of his own. In another minute, he thought, he’d be locking his lips with hers. And it would be in pure desperation.