Amelia Stanbrook is the golden girl, competing on the international showjumping circuit with the world at her feet and handsome millionaire Antonio by her side. Or so everyone thinks. Behind closed doors is a different story, and Amelia dreams of escape, but that’s not easy with two horses in tow.
When she makes a break for it and bumps into racing driver Blake Hunter, he makes her an offer she can’t refuse – pretend to be his girlfriend for two weeks to get him out of a sticky situation and he’ll write off the money Amelia owes him.
Two weeks. All she has to do is keep her head and she’s free to start a new life. But can she keep her heart as well?
24 Hours of Trouble is a full-length romantic suspense novel with a bit of humour thrown in!
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Excerpt – the beginning:
I knew something was wrong the instant I opened the door to our hotel suite. The air crackled with energy, the kind that shouldn’t have been there if Antonio was on his own. A faint giggle drifted from the direction of our bedroom.
As I tiptoed through the lounge, resplendent in plush velvet and bawdy gold fittings, I felt as though even the furniture was mocking me. Because every throw pillow, every polished candlestick, and every hand-carved table belonged there, while I didn’t. They’d been designed for a luxurious lifestyle, whereas I was just an impostor.
The closer I crept to the closed door, the louder the sounds got. A man’s voice instructed, “Raise your hips,” followed by a feminine sigh.
I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. Did I really want to know what was going on inside?
The answer was no, but all the same, I felt compelled to look. I couldn’t back away. In my heart, I knew Antonio had a woman in there, but a part of me, the part that had once fallen in love with the sly son of a bitch, tried to convince myself he could be watching pay-per-view television.
I twisted my hand, and the door swung open on silent hinges. A busty brunette lay on our bed, legs spread, hair flowing over my pillow as her eyes screwed up in ecstasy. She clutched at the thousand-thread-count sheets while Antonio pounded into her like a jackhammer on acid and attacked her neck in the manner of a rabid goat.
Her eyes popped open, and her expression of delight turned to sheer horror when she saw me standing there, arms folded.
She tapped Antonio furiously on the back. “Mon cheri, il y a une femme!”
He lazily swivelled his head until his gaze met mine. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to because his eyes said it all: What are you going to do about it?
Good question. I had no idea.
