Secrets of the Rich & Famous. Charlotte Phillips

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Secrets of the Rich & Famous - Charlotte  Phillips


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       ‘I could do with a new approach, I’ll admit,’ she said slowly. ‘So how about we strike a deal?’

      ‘Go on,’ he said slowly.

      ‘What I need right now is an adviser. To help me get my article back on track. Someone who knows the world I’m writing about and can give me a few pointers.’

      He stared at her.

      ‘You want me to help you trick some unsuspecting millionaire into thinking you’re a rich socialite?’

      ‘In a nutshell, yes. But not in a direct way. I just want to be able to ask your opinion on a few things, that’s all. Clothes, locations—that kind of thing.’

      There was something so alluring about her—and it messed with his body, not just with his mind. Her upturned face was imploring, the blue eyes clear.

      ‘I’m no threat to you. I honestly have no interest in making trouble for you. And we’re not that different. You told me you started out with ideas above your station and that’s what I’ve got. I just need this chance.’

      He looked into the pleading blue eyes. He must be mad.

      CHARLOTTE PHILLIPS has been reading romantic fiction since her teens, and she adores upbeat stories with happy endings. Writing them for Mills & Boon® is her dream job.

      She combines writing with looking after her fabulous husband, two teenagers, a four-year-old and a dachshund. When something has to give, it’s usually housework.

      She lives in Wiltshire.

       Secrets of the Rich & Famous

      Charlotte Phillips

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For my family, with love and thanks.

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Exerpt

       Title Page

       Dedication

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       Copyright

       How To Marry A Millionaire In Ten Easy Steps

       by Jennifer Brown

       If you can’t earn it, marry it!

       Champagne receptions, exotic locations, sumptuous food and designer everything. This is the world of the rich and famous, but is it a world of hype? A rich façade which can be infiltrated by following a few rules, wearing the right clothes? Or is there more to snaring one of the UK’s most eligible bachelors than a makeover and a pair of fake designer heels?

      No rich man will look twice at a woman he believes to be after his money, so to fit into the world of the rich you must look as if you belong there. You must seem like his equal, as if you have money and a beautiful life of your own.

       Join me on my undercover mission to find out if an ordinary Miss High Street like me, with a day job and a mortgage, can reinvent herself on a budget to join the world of the beautiful people and win the ultimate prize: the heart of a millionaire!

       Rule #1: Move to the right postcode, even if you have to live in a shack

      JEN BROWN stood rigid behind the bedroom door in the dark, arm raised, the vase in her hand poised to be broken over the intruder’s head the second he entered the room. As the door swung open one last thought dashed through her mind before cold panic set in and impulse took over. She wished, not for the first time this week, that she was back in her mother’s cottage in the country, where you could leave your door on the latch all night and still not be murdered in your bed.

      A state-of-the-art security system and a massive front door was apparently not enough to guarantee that here in Chelsea.

      As the door opened and the light snapped on she leapt with a yell from her hiding place and swung the vase with every ounce of her strength. If this were a movie she would have knocked him out with one crash and then waited smugly for the police to arrive and pat her on the back. But this was reality. And she wasn’t movie heroine material.

      And so it was that before she could connect vase with scalp, before she had the chance so much as to kick the man in the shins, she was soaring backwards through the air to land with a thump on her own bed. Her wrists were immediately held in an iron grip on either side of her head, and as the intruder loomed above her she drew in a lungful of air and screamed as long and as loudly as she could.

      She surprised herself with how loudly, in fact. He recoiled a little at the sound, his face catching the light, and she realised with a flash of disbelief just who she was staring at. Last seen yesterday morning on the front of her newspaper, in the flesh he looked even more gorgeous but a lot angrier.

      She’d just tried to crack the skull of the most influential figure in British film-making.

      ‘Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you!’ he shouted over her, exasperation lacing the deep voice.

      Famous or not, he had her pinned to the bed, so she ignored him and began


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