The Amalfi Bride

The Amalfi Bride
Ann Major

The beauty of Italy's Amalfi Coast made Regina Tomei throw caution to the wind–and spend the night in the arms of a gorgeous stranger.Except Nico Romano is actually a prince–heir to a monarchy, destined to marry a woman of royal blood. Regina has no illusions that a working-class American like herself could fit into his world of power, palazzos and paparazzi.Their passionate affair must end when her vacation does. But Regina leaves Italy with more than just memories–she's carrying Nico's baby!

The Amalfi Bride

Ann Major

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

This book is dedicated to Lady Jane Liddington,

a dear childhood friend, now living in London,

for suggesting we meet in Ravello.

I also dedicate this book to the marvelous staff of the

Palazzo Sasso Hotel in Ravello, who taught me that

paradise does exist on earth.

And to the Italian people, who were all so wonderful to

me and my husband when we were in their country.

And last of all to the beautiful young woman from

Australia and her Italian lover, whom I met in Rome at

lunch, who shared their story and inspired me.

CONTENTS

Chapter One (#ubfb38b51-2185-5ab4-89cc-5732c938f777)

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

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Coming Next Month

One

Amalfi, Italy

Her last few days in paradise…so many sights, so little time left to see them. So, what was she doing here…in a bar…wasting her valuable time…lacking the will to hike or to tour one more cathedral or villa? Flirting with a dangerous stranger?

Oh, my God! I’m not flirting with him.

It was late July and warm in the open-air bar, although not nearly as warm as it would be back in Texas. Regina Tomei grabbed her glass of chardonnay and sipped too much, too hastily, spilling a few drops on her chin and neck. Quickly she dabbed at the dribbles with her napkin.

Her lengthy list of cathedrals and the notes she’d written about the Greek ruins fell to the floor. She didn’t bother to pick them up. Instead, she stole another quick glance at the tall, dark stranger leaning against the bar across the room.

Who had said, “I can resist anything but temptation?”

The man instantly stopped talking to his short, plump friend and lifted his bottle of beer in a mock salute to her.

Oh, my God! Not again!

He took a slow, long pull from the bottle. Then his gaze touched her throat and lips. She gasped. Involuntarily, her hand with the napkin went to her mouth and then to the hollow of her throat, where her pulse was racing.

The heat of her own fingertips made her imagine his big hands and his lips upon her flesh. She began to perspire, so she fanned herself with the damp napkin.

Then, realizing what she was doing, Regina seized the ornate golden cross around her neck and held on for dear life. She’d bought the necklace from Illusions, an opulent shop she’d discovered tucked away in an alley of charming Ravello near her hotel.

Sightseeing and shopping were her hobbies; not barhopping, not flirting with strange men in foreign lands.