Dear Reader,
When I was seventeen, I fell in love with a rogue. You know the type of guy I mean, all sweet talk but little commitment. Somewhere during my senior year in high school my rogue asked me to marry him. Unable to see the inevitable future, I said yes, and after months of hot-and-heavy, he said, “I need to go out into the world and find myself…without you.” Devastated, I vowed never to date again. Then I fell for another rogue, then another and another, until I thought for sure I was incurable.
Which brings us to Rudy Bellafini—the rogue poster boy. Although he’s totally fiction, he’s totally real to me and with my slightly quirky Italian heritage, it’s no wonder there’s a curse involved.
I’m not attracted to rogues anymore, just like I’m not attracted to expensive clothes and chocolate truffles.
Yeah, right!
Best,
Mary Leo
P.S. Please come visit me on my Web site at www.maryleo.net. We’ll talk some more.
Cate looked sinful, but also elegant in her backless halter-style wedding gown
Her sister Gina had picked out the semi-designer creation and Mrs. Crocetti had discounted the dress for good luck. All was good.
“Let’s take a second and hit the highlights.” Gina’s words made Cate stop before she left the room. “You’re doing this revenge wedding because—”
“Because I don’t want anything bad to happen to any other guy I may be interested in.”
“And?”
“And this is the only way to break the curse. He jilted me ten years ago.”
“And?”
“And because my last fiancé nearly choked to death on a cannoli.”
“Makes perfect sense to me, but are you happy?”
“No.”
“Great. Everything’s as it should be.”
Aunt Flo burst into the room. “What’s the holdup, dolls? We got over a hundred people down there waiting for the bride. So are you going to walk down those stairs or are you going to jilt him now?”
For Better or Cursed
Mary Leo
MILLS & BOON
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For Better or Cursed is Mary Leo’s follow-up novel to Stick Shift. She’s had careers as a salesgirl in Chicago, a cocktail waitress and keno runner in Las Vegas, a bartender in Silicon Valley and a production assistant in Hollywood. She has recently given up her career as an IC layout engineer to pursue her constant passion: writing romance.
Mary now lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and new puppy.
To: Janet Wellington, for her endless energy;
Maureen Child, because she keeps me sane;
Cheryl Howe and Crystal Green, for their continued
encouragement; Holly Jacobs, who answers all
my lame questions; Rick, because he’s rational
when I’m not; and most of all to Kathryn Lye,
the best editor a girl could have.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Prologue
There’s a belief on Taylor Street in Chicago’s Little Italy that if a man jilts a woman after a proposal of marriage, then her love life is forever cursed…unless, of course, the man returns so the woman can have her revenge.
RUDY BELLAFINI COULDN’T MOVE , at least not without agonizing pain, but as he lay in the snow, his skis pointing straight up in the air, a person stood over him snapping his picture.
“What the…?” Rudy said as he spit snow and debris out of his mouth, angry over the amateur paparazzo with the disposable camera.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Mr. Bellafini.” Click… “The ambulance is on its way.” Click…click…click.
Rudy couldn’t believe this chick. Did she have no shame?
“Come on. I’m a mess here. Could you stop with the pictures?” Rudy pleaded, and held up a hand to block the camera’s focus.
Click… “Sorry, honey, but I thought guys like you loved this kind of stuff. Besides, it’s an even trade. I called the ambulance. You owe me,” she purred.
“I owe you? I’m lying here next to death and I owe you for calling an ambulance?”
“It’s about giving something back.”
“That would mean that I took something from you, which I didn’t because I don’t know you. Do I?”
Click…
“Stop taking—” Rudy mumbled, but the chick wouldn’t give it up.
As Rudy dropped back in the snow, completely defeated, a curious memory drifted into his consciousness. A memory he thought he had successfully tucked away forever.
“Stop taking my picture,” Rudy chided.
“I want to remember this when you’re rich and famous,” Cate said as she snapped several pictures of Rudy’s face. They leaned up against the far wall in the back of his father’s closed restaurant, teasing each other with kisses and laughter as a snowstorm howled right outside their door.
“You make me crazy,” he said right before he kissed her gently on her full, wet lips.
“We came here for food,” she taunted. “You told me that your dad left us a couple sandwiches.”
“You are my food,” he whispered between playful kisses.
She