Click on image to enlarge.

List Price:	$6.99
You Pay:	$4.89
You Save:	30.04%

Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Erotica
Description: Trying to ditch her past, Doris Macon is about to step into her favorite role: that of Dorienne Maçon, primped and perfect socialite. To complete the transformation, she needs to return to her hometown to get rid of the remaining vestiges of Doris Macon, town slut. But when the only man who'd ever held her heart shows up in Quartzton, she inadvertently opens the door to her past. Fourteen years earlier, Leo Savage, Romeo to Doris's Juliet, had abandoned and hurt her. Now, to be Dorienne Maçon, Doris must push away all that her heart once longed for, and that includes Leo. Wildfire fighter Leo, now a grown man, is driven to atone for his past, but finds he wants more than forgiveness from Doris. Like a forest fire, passion and love build to raging flames within, and Doris finds herself faced with either shoving her past back into a closet or embracing her true desire.
eBook Publisher: Ravenous Romance/Ravenous Romance, 2009
World Digital eBookstore Release Date: November 2009

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [183 KB], ePub (EPUB) [202 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [160 KB], Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [587 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [178 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [242 KB], Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [211 KB], hiebook (KML) [436 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [253 KB], iSilo (PDB) [148 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [185 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [256 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [263 KB]
Words: 54591
Reading time: 155-218 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Fourteen and a half years earlier...

"Don't go. Please, don't leave me yet."

Doris Macon grasped at Leo Savage's bare arm as he slid out of bed. Despite her seeking hands, Leo stepped away, only to let out a muffled "ow." She clapped a hand over her mouth, holding back a giggle. She knew her mom, Karen, was sleeping off a drinking binge, but with Karen's bedroom on the same floor, she and Leo needed to be quiet.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Trying to find my clothes, but I tripped over the stuffed dog I won for you at the County Fair last summer."

This time she did giggle, but knowing that Leo was getting dressed tainted the humor and her smile quickly faded. She curled into a fetal position, burying herself deeper under the pink and white quilt. "Come back to bed, Leo. It's not even light yet."

"Dee, I can't. There's a glow on the horizon."

She knew by the rustling in the dark what Leo was doing--putting on his worn jeans, deck shoes, a long-sleeved henley, and his Quartzton High letter jacket. Getting dressed and leaving her.

"It's the moon," she whispered. An exasperated sigh followed her statement.

"I heard the robins. Morning's coming and I gotta get out of here."

"No..." She groaned, burying her head in her pillow. "You must have heard an owl or something. It can't be morning." He couldn't be leaving her already. Sure, in a few hours she'd see him at school, but after that? She let out an exasperated sigh. "I hate them. I hate them all."

She felt Leo sit on the bed next to her but she didn't roll over to face him. Leo ran a hand over her head. "Our parents, or the robins?" he asked. "Because if you hate the birds, I could go get my BB gun."

She wanted to laugh but felt too miserable. "Both. But mostly our parents. I mean, I get that your folks hate my mom, but we didn't have any part of their fight. Why should they keep us apart? We didn't do anything wrong." She swallowed hard against the tears forming. She didn't want Leo to think she was a baby.

Warm lips pressed against the side of her neck. She pulled her head out from under the pillow and saw Leo's silhouette. He'd been right--the day was dawning. Her heart emptied. He had to leave. He had to sneak back into his own house before his parents discovered he'd stolen away in the dead of the night.

"They can order us to stay away from each other, but they can't ever keep us apart," he said. "I'm here, aren't I? Sneaking into your house, spending every night with you."

Doris curled her body around Leo's seated frame, resting her head in his lap. "But for how long, Leo? How long can we stay together?"

"Forever," he answered, tracing line of her jaw. "We love each other. Nothing will ever come between us, not even our parents. You're my Juliet, remember?"

She used his shirt hem to wipe away tears. "And you're my Romeo."

"That's right. Our love is as deep as theirs. Eternal love."

Doris wrapped her arms tight around Leo's middle, unwilling to let him go. "Yeah, but things kinda sucked in the end for Romeo and Juliet." She bit her lip, then said, "I mean, they died in the end."

Leo's low chuckle pooled warmth in her tummy. "We're not going to die, Dee, or anything else. Nothing bad will ever happen to us. We love each other too much. We're going to rewrite Shakespeare and make our story a romance, not a tragedy."

"Promise?" she asked, her voice quavering.

Leo kissed her on the lips, his mouth warm and soft and strong. "Yes," he whispered. "I promise. We'll be together forever and into eternity. Always. I love you, my Juliet--my Dee."

Chapter One

"Darling, do let us see your ring again." A tall, thin woman in her late fifties with ash-blond hair sidled up to Doris, one of the many socialites at the party celebrating the engagement of Fergus McMannus and Dorienne Maçon. Afternoon sunlight streamed over the California coastal range, illuminating the cultivated beauty of Fergus's hundred-acre estate in the heart of Marin County.

Doris--Dorienne--scanned the five hundred-plus crowd scattered about the limestone terrace and the bowling green and smiled. These people would soon be her new best friends, and this manicured property and the thirty-thousand-foot opulent mansion standing behind her would be her new home.

"The ring, dear?"

Doris brought her attention back to the woman at her side and obliged, lifting her hand upward, smiling when the sunlight caught the ten-carat diamond and sent flashing sparks in an arc. Dots of light shimmered and danced.

"Oh, my," the woman purred, examining the ring. "Your Fergus is quite the generous man, is he not?" Doris struggled to recall her name. Fergus would be pissed at her if she couldn't remember her guests' names.

Annoyed. He'd be annoyed, she reminded herself, correcting her inner voice. She was to be Dorienne Maçon now, not Doris Macon. Dorienne would never say the word "pissed." Or "shit," or "crap," or "holy fuck." Those were Doris's words. And soon, Doris would be long gone.

For a moment her mind went blank and she entered into nothingness, as if she'd stepped into a cloud: big and puffy, all fluffy and white on the outside, but hiding the chaos of thunder and lightning within.

The woman's light touch on her arm brought her back to reality. Alice. That was her name. Alice Lancaster, of the New York Lancasters. Doris pulled in a breath through flared nostrils. She needed to get back into the role she was to play. Back to being someone she wasn't, but someone she desperately wanted to be.

Dorienne Maçon of the Normandy Maçons, formerly Doris Macon of the Quartzville Nobodies, smoothed her long, flame-red hair over a bone-thin shoulder, arched her neck forward to enhance her silicone double-Ds, and plastered on a brilliant smile.

"He is indeed generous," she said, attempting to add a purr to her throat. She coughed. Christ. That hurt. How did these women do that purring thing?

"We are all so pleased with how happy you've made our Fergus. We've been hoping to see him settle down for years. You two seem to be such an elegant match." The woman leaned, whispering conspiratorially, "He's had a few gold diggers after him, you know."

Her stomach clenched. If Alice Lancaster knew who she really was, the socialite would spurn and reject her, calling her a gold digger and assuming the marriage to be one of convenience.

And Alice would be right. At least, Doris thought, she'd be partially correct.

Doris wasn't only one who found the marriage convenient: billionaire Fergus McMannus got something out of the arrangement, too. Marrying a well-educated, financially stable, and beautiful woman from an impeccable background would cut short the rumors of his sexual proclivities. Rumors that weren't completely unfounded, but ones Fergus wanted quelled.

But none of the high society bunch before her would see it that way. If they knew her true past rather than the one she and Fergus had created for Dorienne Maçon, they'd see Doris Macon, small-town gold-digging slut, selling herself to the highest bidder. She had her work cut out for her.

Across the verdant bowling green, engaged in a conversation, Fergus looked up and caught her eye. He raised an eyebrow and sketched a wave. She added emphasis to her plastered-on smile and waved back, looking at the man she'd agreed to marry. At forty-five, fifteen years her senior, Fergus had gone prematurely grey years before; he wore his silver hair as a symbol of status, commanding and demanding attention. When she was in heels, he stood a few inches shorter than her. Although he played tennis and golfed nearly every day, time had caught up with him and his stomach sagged a bit under his silk shirt. His dull grey eyes shifted away from her and his focus returned to the conversation. Her shoulders released the tension that had been building.

He hadn't smiled at her, or shown any appreciation when she'd caught his eye, but she didn't care. She'd always claimed she'd marry for prestige, not love. She'd been clear with Fergus when he first began pursuing her: she'd loved once, and would never open her heart again. Which was fine by him.

When he'd proposed, she'd been shocked. She hardly came from the same background as Fergus, who'd been born with a platinum spoon in his mouth. Besides, they'd had an easy relationship for almost two years, one unencumbered by emotional attachment. Why Fergus wanted a wife, and especially her for a wife, confounded her--until he explained his rationale.

Fergus wanted a wife not for love, but out of necessity. He'd pitched the idea of marriage as a solution to both of their problems. He wanted an ultimate society hostess and someone to serve as a foil to the rumors of his sexual indiscretions. Doris wanted to be part of the "in" crowd. Neither had room in their life for love or affection, which made the marriage of convenience practical. He'd offered a unique option: he'd use his money and power to create an alternate persona for her, as long as she didn't have any nasty skeletons in her closet. She assured him she didn't.

As long as love never entered into the equation, they'd use each other for position, prestige, and sex. Which was fine by her. The last time she'd allowed herself to love she'd ended up with a ruined life. And it wasn't as if sex with Fergus was crappy or even kinky, just different. Unique. The type of coupling that didn't require love or emotion, just ... sex. No staring deeply into one another's eyes, proclaiming their love. No après sex cuddling. No moonlit walks hand in hand. Just sex. And the best part was that because of Fergus's unique approach to sex, she never had to be herself. Never had to be Doris Macon.

Alice interrupted her thoughts. "Dorienne, a few of us have been chatting, and we're wondering if you'd be interested in stepping into the newly vacated position on the Board of Directors for the Elysian Fields Charities?"

Excitement charged up her spine. The cloud moved out of her head until only wisps showed, then they too were gone. She suppressed a laugh. It was happening. It was really happening. She, who once had been snubbed by her entire town, was about to be accepted into the inner circle of high society.

One task remained before she could complete the transformation and rid the world of Doris Macon: sell the house in dingy old Quartzton she'd inherited when her mother died a few months ago. Then, Doris could disappear forever.

To be replaced by Dorienne Maçon, darling of the socialites. The newest member of the popular clique.

Her chest suddenly squeezed the air out of her lungs and a hollow, sinking sensation hit her chest. She felt the way she had when she was a kid, getting into trouble with her mother. But why? She hadn't done anything wrong in accepting Fergus's proposal. With marrying Fergus came the prestige, the honor, the respect for which she'd hungered. What had once been stolen. She'd been paving the path to this destination for years, earning a college education, undergoing plastic surgery to repair what nature had given her, studying the way society women spoke, dressed, moved their hands and bodies. She'd practiced and honed her part until she played it perfectly.

And she'd made it--she'd entered into the popular clique again. With Fergus, she had everything she'd dreamed of and wished for over the last fourteen years. No one could ever give her back what she'd lost, but regaining her social standing had at least been an achievable goal. One she'd earned.

So why did she suddenly feel so vastly empty?