Dear Reader,
Come on. Admit it. At one point in time you have caught a snippet of The Bachelor, or The Bachelorette, or Average Joe or Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire? Or maybe you’re a dedicated viewer. Well, this story is for everyone who has watched those shows and been amazed that reality can be so…dramatic!
I had just finished being flabbergasted that Trista actually dumped Charlie for Ryan when this story came to me in a flash. I couldn’t help but wonder what really happened when the cameras stopped rolling. What if the Bachelor wasn’t what he seemed? What would they do with a contestant with an A-cup bra size?
I saw Bridget as the anti-contestant. And since I have always loved the boss/secretary relationship—I’m a longtime fan of Josh and Donna on the West Wing—adding Richard as the demanding boss seemed like a perfect recipe for love, some fun and a lot of chaos.
I hope you enjoy this journey into my very warped, highly dramatic and hopefully very entertaining version of reality TV.
I do love to hear from readers. Come visit me at www.stephaniedoyle.net.
Happy reading,
Stephanie Doyle
“There’s only one thing to do. Trick him.”
This caught Bridget’s attention. “What do you mean?”
“Pretend you need him to kiss you for some other reason,” Raquel said. “Like you’ve got a piece of gum stuck on your back tooth and you need him to get it…. Only with his tongue.”
The concept had merit—the kissing part, not the gum part. But… “I don’t know,” Bridget hedged. “You don’t think it’s a little obvious? I would like to think that Richard and I were more mature than that.”
Of course, Richard was oblivious to her feelings, which were apparently pretty obvious to the world. She wouldn’t share them with him verbally because she was a scaredy-cat. The two of them basically were afraid of their respective families. Richard drew comic strips for entertainment.
So maybe they were not the two most mature people in the city.
“Trick him,” Raquel repeated firmly.
Trick him, Bridget repeated silently. It might just work. Wow, she truly was becoming an evil seductress. All she had to do was sleep with her sister’s husband or abscond with someone else’s baby, claiming it was hers and it would pretty much be a done deal.
Richard wasn’t going to know what hit him….
Who Wants To Marry a Heartthrob?
Stephanie Doyle
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Stephanie Doyle began her writing career in eighth grade when she was given an assignment to write in a journal every day. Her own life being routine, she used the opportunity to write her own sequel to the Star Wars movies. One hundred and six handwritten pages later, she discovered her lifelong dream—to be a writer. Currently, Stephanie resides in South Jersey with her cat, Alexandria Hamilton Doyle. Single, she still waits for Mr. Right to sweep her off her feet. She vows that whoever he is, he’ll decorate the cover of at least one of her books.
Books by Stephanie Doyle
HARLEQUIN FLIPSIDE
2—ONE TRUE LOVE?
HARLEQUIN DUETS
65—DOWN-HOME DIVA
88—BAILY’S IRISH DREAM
SILHOUETTE INTIMATE MOMENTS
792—UNDISCOVERED HERO
For my brother, Chris. The funniest person I know.
CONTENTS
1
“HOUSTON, we have a problem.”
“Huh?”
“We have a problem,” Bridget Connor repeated, although she didn’t know why she bothered. Her employer clearly was not listening. Right now his gaze was pinned on fourteen gorgeous women, each dressed more scantily than the next. Bridget had never seen so much Spandex in one sitting in her life. And she wondered about the engineering of some of the clothes that managed to hold certain body parts in place when it seemed as if the slightest shift might give away the farm, so to speak.
Not that her employer was waiting for a quick flash. Or maybe he was—he was a man after all. But he wasn’t ogling the women with the same intent that some of the other men in the room had. No, Richard Wells’s priority wasn’t sex right now.
It was money.
He turned his head and she could see him squint in her direction. Squinting was Richard’s universal sign for “Huh?” After three years of working for him, she was an expert on all of his subtle little expressions.
“Did you say something?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“Something about a problem,” he recalled. “In Houston?”
“No, here in New York.”
He looked confused. “Then why did you say Houston?”
“It’s an expression. Work with me, Richard.” Then she reminded herself that she needed to be patient with him tonight. Not that it didn’t require a great deal of patience to work with the moody ad executive on a normal day, but tonight was different. His focus was solely on the event that was to take place within the next half hour. Nothing short of a nuclear explosion would distract him from that.
“What is it?” he snapped impatiently.
She considered him while he continued to study the room. “You have no intention of listening to a word I say, do you?”
When he turned back to her, he was squinting again.
“I don’t have time for problems,” he announced.
“I can see that, but you do. Have a problem, that is.”
He shook his head as if to deny her words. “What could possibly go wrong? The camera crew is here, the women are here—well, most of them anyway—and my heartthrob is most definitely here.” Richard pointed