The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child / Claiming My Bride Of Convenience. Кейт Хьюит

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Note to Readers

       Back Cover Text

       Dedication

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       Claiming My Bride of Convenience

       Back Cover Text

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       About the Publisher

       The Sicilian’s Surprise Love-Child

      Carol Marinelli

      His forbidden innocent…

       And the consequence of their surrender!

      Aurora Messina is everything cynical tycoon Nico Caruso shouldn’t want. Impulsive and far too innocent, she’s trouble…and temptation. Especially now that she’s working at his new hotel. But Nico’s infamous control isn’t a match for their combustible chemistry, and it soon ignites in a sizzlingly illicit encounter…

      Then Aurora discovers she’s pregnant! She knows Nico has never wanted a family—he still bears the scars of his own childhood. But will Aurora’s revelation give this proud Sicilian a reason to risk everything?

      For my great friend, Frances Housden.

      Love you, Cuzzy.

      C xxx

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘AURORA WILL BE shadowing me today.’

      Nico Caruso did not look up from his computer as Marianna, his PA, walked into his opulent Rome office. Instead he frowned.

      ‘Aurora Messina from the Sicilian hotel,’ Marianna elaborated, clearly assuming from Nico’s frown that Aurora’s was a name he did not know.

      Oh, but he did.

      Aurora Messina. Aged twenty-four—six years younger than him.

      Aurora Eloise Messina, with her velvet brown eyes and thick dark hair that was not quite raven, though too dark to be called chestnut. Ah, yes… Aurora, with her olive skin that went pink in the sun.

      ‘Don’t you remember me, Nico?’

      There was a tease in that familiar rasp to her throaty voice, and she brought with her the scent of home. The white crochet dress that she wore must have been hung out on the washing line, for it had caught not just the hot Sicilian sun but also the breeze from


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