Trish Wylie

One Summer In New York


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CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       Unveiling The Bridesmaid

       Back Cover Text

       Dedication

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       Her Man in Manhattan

       ONE

       TWO

       THREE

       FOUR

       FIVE

       SIX

       SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       FIFTEEN

       SIXTEEN

       SEVENTEEN

       EIGHTEEN

       NINETEEN

       TWENTY

       TWENTY-ONE

       TWENTY-TWO

       TWENTY-THREE

       TWENTY-FOUR

       TWENTY-FIVE

       About the Publisher

       Her New York Billionaire

      Andrea Bolter

      His fake fiancée?

      Artist Holly Motta arrives in New York to make a new start...only to find billionaire Ethan Benton occupying the apartment where she is meant to be staying! But there’s another surprise in store... Ethan needs a fake fiancée—fast!—and he wants her to fill the role!

      But Ethan’s got no intention of trusting any woman with his heart. Until he lets beautiful Holly into his world...and discovers she is the only woman he’d really like to make his wife!

      For Alex

       CHAPTER ONE

      “WHY IS YOUR face blue?”

      Holly froze in shock. She had just opened the door to the apartment she’d expected to find empty. But instead of flicking on the lights in a vacant living room she’d walked in on lamps already blazing. And a shirtless man sitting in the center of the sofa. Reading a newspaper. A gorgeous brown-haired shirtless man was reading a newspaper.

      “Why is your face blue?” he repeated. Broad shoulders peeked out over the newspaper he was holding.

      Why is your face blue? Holly heard the individual words but couldn’t put them together to understand them as a question. She could hardly get over the fact that there was a man in the apartment, let alone make sense of the sounds coming from his mouth.

      She checked the keys in her hand. Perhaps she was somehow in the wrong place.

      And then she saw.

      Her hands were blue.