BVC Announces Taming the Tabloid Heiress by Michele Dunaway
Taming the Tabloid Heiress
by Michele Dunaway
When passion blurs the lines between fact and fiction, a notorious heiress meets her match in the reclusive TV producer she needs to interview.
Kit O’Brien, New York’s most notorious heiress, is famous for her outrageous antics and viral scandals. But when she dumps dog food on her father’s godson (and her supposed fiancé) at a charity event, it’s time to lay low. A cruise ship interview assignment seems like the perfect escape—until she discovers her subject is the infuriatingly handsome stranger she almost joined the mile-high club with on her flight there.
Joshua Parker wants nothing to do with the press. He’s worked hard to keep his private life out of the tabloids while creating TV’s hottest sci-fi show. The last thing he needs is an interview with a spoiled socialite who makes headlines wherever she goes. But he discovers that beneath Kit’s wild-child reputation is a passionate woman yearning to break free from her father’s expectations.
As their cruise ship romance heats up, Kit faces an impossible choice: write the career-making story her father demands, or protect the man who’s captured her heart. But when their worlds collide and secrets emerge, they’ll have to decide if their love is worth fighting for—or just another scandal waiting to happen.
The Jacobsens, Book 1
REVIEW
Michele Dunaway pens a lighthearted, delightfully fresh romance in TAMING THE TABLOID HEIRESS. With a sexy hero that will make the reader’s heart go pitter-pat, and a dynamic heroine with a perchance for trouble, Dunaway creates a glittering tale that keeps the senses reeling. Indeed, outrageous antics, mesmerizing sensuality, and irresistible characters that find themselves at cross purposes combine to create a memorable reading experience. Very highly recommended. -Amazon reader
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Michele Dunaway is a best selling author of contemporary romance that’s hometown sweet with a hint of spice.
Buy Taming the Tabloid Heiress at the BVC bookstore
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Chapter One
The Tattler, Thursday, Nov. 21
Mary Lynn’s About the Town
Kit’ten Dogs Fiancé!
Only if you were there would you believe it! (See picture page one.) New York’s most notorious heiress, the antic-loving Kit O’Brien, did it again. This time she upended a bowl of dog food, dumping it over Blaine Rourke, her father’s favorite godson and, as speculated in this column last week, her fiancé. Sources close to the family inform me that her father, Michael O’Brien, C.E.O. of the Fortune 250 company O’Brien Publications, is absolutely furious! One has to wonder how Kit’s going to pacify her father this time. Will she finally give in to his demands and tie the knot? One thing’s for sure, with Kit you never know what antic she’ll pull next.
“So, have you ever made love on a plane?”
As the words rolled silkily off his tongue, Kit O’Brien’s green eyes widened at the audacity of the handsome male passenger who had been seated next to her for the past two hours.
“Are you propositioning me?” Although she blinked, Kit held her gaze steadfast to mask her inward shock. Despite her reputation, never before had a man been so bold, or so brash. Afternoon sunlight flickered through the first-class window as he gave her a wicked grin.
“And if I am?” His full lips curled teasingly, creating a slight dimple in his right cheek.
Kit felt shivers shoot through her body, all the way down her legs to toes cramped in what masqueraded as sensible flats. The brazen answer that teased provocatively from her mouth before she had any rational thought to stop it ignited the stuffy atmosphere. “I’d have to think about it.”
“You do that and let me know.” He closed his lips slowly over the edge of his glass in a gesture bordering on erotic.
Ooh, he was smooth. She could lose herself in those glittering and glistening, dangerous brown eyes.
But that would be a mistake.
He turned his gaze away, releasing Kit from his hypnotic spell. Even though the possibility of caving in to his outrageous suggestion was gone, Kit felt little relief. Clamping her mouth shut, she reached forward set her glass on the foldout tray. Her hand shook and the cup wobbled before she righted it. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed her body’s immediate physical response to his provocative words.
He was quite a piece of work, she thought. Instead of watching their video screens, they had been talking on and off since leaving New York at 11 a.m., but right now since his attention was not on her, Kit tried to relax. Never before had she run across someone quite like him, someone who had sent her senses reeling with just one piercing look.
Whoever he was, he was temptation. A magazine lay across his lap, hiding legs clad in black jeans. He didn’t have earbuds in ears visible through his thick hair. A heated awareness prickled Kit’s skin, her equilibrium as disturbed now as when he had taken his seat two hours ago. Then she had gazed, transfixed, until he had pointed with a well-manicured finger at the empty window seat next to her.
At that moment, although she had been acutely conscious of her flushed cheeks, she could not break her stare. He had looked down his pointed, perfect Roman nose, and given her the amused knowing smile of a man used to being the center of attention. And, when he stripped off his black sport coat, Kit’s mouth dried to sandpaper and her throat tightened. The broadcloth button-down hinted at perfectly formed muscles. When he had moved past her to access the window seat his legs had brushed hers. Kit swore fireworks had ignited from the way her body tingled.
Kit shook from the reverie and attempted to focus. She had no time for erotic thoughts about a man she didn’t know. She had four days before facing her father and his reaction to her latest public stunt. As she attempted to tug her short knit skirt down to her knees, her seatmate shifted, his black Western boots coming briefly into view. She froze.
He was a cowboy, she decided, closing her eyes and letting herself fantasize. He certainly had a primitive, masculine look. Chestnut-colored hair cascaded over his collar to just above his shoulders, and Kit pictured tying his wavy tresses back with a rawhide lace.
No, she shook off that fantasy, replacing it with another. Instead she would take her fingers and tuck the strands gently up underneath a black Stetson. When she was finished with his hair, his rugged and virile hands would stroke her, yet his touch would be gentle despite being accustomed to holding fast the reins of unbroken stallions. She would trace a finger across the stubble of his jaw, and his fingers would slide lower, ready to caress her into absolute ecstasy.
Kit opened her eyes and lowered her lashes so she could venture another glance at his luminous brown eyes and heart-shaped face.
Did she really want to just slip up to the first-class lavatory with him? The illicit thought of his full lips catching hers and trailing kisses down her neck sent tremors racing down her spine. His hands would cup her buttocks, lifting her up to him, and his mouth would caress her breast. She would wind her fingers in those luscious long locks, and he would fill her body as if he were made just to please her. With knowing strokes he would take her to heights she had never imagined or experienced. Marry me, he would whisper huskily, his breath warm against her ear. Marry me….
Hold it! Mentally Kit wrenched herself from her Walter Mitty dream world and began to silently chastise herself. Except for his body’s effect on hers, she knew nothing about him, and even if she did, she didn’t do things like this! She was probably the oldest virgin in America, despite everyone’s belief to the contrary. And the last thing she needed would be any more public scandal.
The now-infamous dog food incident she was running away from was bad enough. Not only was her father furious at her previous night’s behavior, but she knew Blaine wasn’t too happy with her, either. And she was desperate to escape both of their wraths.
Hence her editor, Eleni’s, priceless expression earlier that morning. Anything had to be better than a confrontation with her father after another viral antic, and Kit had snatched the assignment Eleni had offered her, sight unseen and without a press packet. Who cared if she wouldn’t know until tomorrow even the name of the person she was to interview? The fact that the assignment was far away from home was all that mattered. She could wait until tomorrow morning for the press kit to arrive by overnight mail. Then she would just wing it.
And she’d flaunt her success when she got back. Much to her father’s chagrin she’d have interviewed whomever and written a dynamite exposé. Then her father would have to let Eleni assign Kit to more serious stories. She was tired of the marshmallow fluff her editor gave her. Wine, art and society stories had been great to cut her teeth on, but now they were boring despite the clicks the online versions garnered.
Not only that, but Kit’s father, the publishing icon, refused to let her write under her own name. Even with respectable stories, she had to hide behind the pseudonym Carol Jones. How uninventive. No, it was time her father gave her a real chance. Kit squared her jaw. She would succeed.
For a moment she wondered what the unknown person she would be interviewing looked like. If she hadn’t been in such a hurry to catch her flight she might have found out. Oh, well. If it was a guy and he looked anything like the man seated next to her, well, the assignment would be a dream come true.
Succumbing to her nervous habit, she bit her bottom lip and stole another glance toward the window.
What was it about him, anyway? Calvin Klein models couldn’t hold a candle to him. With a sigh Kit rubbed her left ear to relieve the pressure, but it didn’t help. Disturbed by the wicked thoughts still dancing in her head, she removed the last piece of popcorn from the bag and popped it into her mouth.
Anything to keep her mind off the way his firm fingers moved the cursor as he played solitaire.
Kit settled back into the seat, her thoughts wistful. What would it be like to just once completely let go, to feel unbridled passion and get away without anyone recording her every move? She brushed aside the tempting but wicked thought. At heart she really was a good girl beneath a born-to-be-bad reputation.
Opening her eyes, she watched him move the ten of clubs.
“Move that eight. It plays on the nine of hearts.” Kit pointed out a move he had missed for two draws. “Next, move that four. It plays on that five right there.”
He arched an eyebrow expectantly at her. “Did you want a turn?”
“No.”
“Just checking. I did think this game was called solitaire for a reason. But if you change your mind and want to play I’m sure we could arrange something.” His dubious grin and innuendo should have infuriated her, but oddly it didn’t. Kit frowned as the airplane banked slightly and the Atlantic came into view.
“There’s the ocean. We must be almost there.” She pointed directly in front of his nose. Patiently he turned to her and folded the screen down. A little chill ran down her spine. The chill avalanched at his next words.
“Pity.” Mirth laced his voice as the captain announced their impending approach to Miami. “It could have been so very interesting, ma chérie. Oui? But we are no longer a mile high.”
Kit flushed at his French-Canadian accent. Did he use that delicious accent with the women he took to his bed? She shuddered involuntarily and then managed to get a grip on herself.
“My loss.” Kit raised her shoulders and let them down in a slow, eloquent, dismissive shrug. Her strawberry-blond hair bobbed around her shoulders. “I shall have to go my whole life wondering what if…what if we had had one of those magical encounters of two ships passing in the night? What if we just missed the most dizzying lovemaking of our lives? Ah, but unfortunately life is just one big what if.”
Yes, she could pretend to be a vixen when she needed to. There was at least a sliver of truth in those mythical tabloid and online accounts of her sex life. She smiled to herself when he jerked his eyes away from her.
The plane began its final approach and Kit’s smile faded. At the captain’s orders she readjusted her seat belt, thoughts of her seatmate disappearing as the panic began. Fingers tense, she gripped the armrests. Although she had flown to all corners of the world, she still feared takeoffs and landings.
She screwed her eyes shut, missing the look of concern that crossed her seatmate’s face as she began using breathing exercises in order to remain calm. Slowly she inhaled and exhaled, letting her chest rise and fall in a rhythmic motion. Few knew the fearless Kit O’Brien had an Achilles’ heel. Few had seen the one-woman rebellion grip her seat as if the devil himself was flying.
In the numbing black Kit felt a stray hair lift away from her terrified face. Through her mindless panic Kit suddenly felt a fire as skin touched skin. His right hand covered her left one, his fingertips slowly caressing her whitened knuckles. An electric energy of desire liquefied her veins, sending warmth spreading through her. His touch made her forget herself, and Kit barely felt the beginning of the descent. Her body hummed from his touch, and she imagined him kissing her. He claimed her ruby lips, tasting and teasing them with his tongue until they were swollen with the blood of passion.
The blessed thump came, and brakes squealed in their whine to stop the speeding plane. Kit opened her eyes, blinking to shake off disorientation. Though she was finally on the ground, she wasn’t sure she was safe. In the span of less than three hours, Kit knew her life had somehow been altered, but she wasn’t sure exactly how.
Focusing on the seat back in front of her, she brought the fingers of her right hand up to touch her lips. She felt the stickiness of her lipstick and exhaled deeply. It was fantasy, although it had seemed so real.
The pressure of his fingers lifted as he abruptly withdrew his hand from hers. His voice sounded almost curt. “We’re here.”
Kit blinked twice and focused as an icy coolness descended upon her hand. Her skin still tingled, missing the heat of his fingers. “Uh, good.”
Steadying her shaking voice, Kit continued to speak as the plane came to a stop. “Thanks for nursing me through the landing. It was sweet.”
He raised an eyebrow and Kit wondered if he knew that her thoughts a moment ago had been anything but sweet.
“It was nothing.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, and Kit felt her feminine ego shatter a bit as he dismissed her. She didn’t know why she was expecting something from a total stranger, but somehow she did. Maybe she really was the fool her father insisted she was.
With new determination she stood, the moment the seat belt light went off. “Well, thanks for sharing the flight. I’m off. I’ve got a rather difficult job ahead of me.”
“Good luck.” He didn’t blink, but instead looked at her as if memorizing her features.
Kit flushed. “Thanks.”
He didn’t respond, but instead joined her in the aisle. He towered four inches over her, and Kit stepped back. He must be at least six feet tall and he retrieved her carry-on bag with an almost practiced ease.
Oh, well, Kit thought a bit wistfully as he shrugged into his black sport coat. One more look couldn’t hurt. She let her gaze travel down his shirt’s button line to where it tapered to a perfectly proportioned waist. As he turned away from her, Kit decided that whoever he was, he was definitely fit. His masculine aura so fully commanded the small section of first class that the gray-haired woman behind her jostled her aside for a better view.
Knocked off balance, Kit crashed forward. He caught her easily, and under the soft cloth of his shirt taut muscles rippled. Her fingertips splayed across his firm chest. So hard, so solid…her knees wobbled and her body immediately molded to his. Delicious delirium invaded as she inhaled his musky, all-male scent.
His strong arms steadied her. As his deep brown eyes looked down at her, Kit felt as if she were sinking into those gold-flecked pools.
“Are you okay?”
His soft-spoken words brought reality crashing back in. Shaken, Kit stepped away, but not before she saw his eyes darken and his face cloud over.
“I’m fine,” she lied, wondering if he had felt her desire. Did he know how tempted she had been by him during the flight? His guarded expression revealed nothing, and his long brown lashes hooded his eyes. Kit knew she couldn’t leave it like this. This man was going to haunt her dreams, and she didn’t even know his name. He at least had to have a name. She had to say something to him, no matter what the consequences.
“Come on, honey. I’ve got to catch a connection to San Juan. Could you get a move on?”
“What?” Kit turned in disbelief to look at the woman behind her. The carry-ons Kit held crashed into one of the seats, and she paused to readjust her grip. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The woman’s flat smile revealed her irritation and impatience.
Kit put on her most dazzling smile and turned around. “It was nice to have—”
The aisle ahead of her was empty. He was gone.