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The Marriage Game: A Novel

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Overview

In a dazzling celebration of the power of friendship and love, acclaimed bestselling author Fern Michaels brings her trademark wit and warmth to an action-packed story featuring a group of diverse women who bond Survivor-style under the most unlikely of circumstances...and find romance along the way.

When Samantha Rainford -- newly wed to Douglas Cosmo Rainford III -- returns home from her honeymoon to find divorce papers waiting, she's shocked and heartbroken. Then she discovers that she's not the first to be abandoned -- she's one of four (or maybe more) ex-Mrs. Rainfords -- and decides it's time to put into practice that old truism: Don't get mad, get even.

With the help of her longtime girlfriend Slick, a glamorous fashion model, Sam gathers together a highly unlikely team: Mrs. Kayla Rainford, an architect who moonlights as an exotic dancer; Mrs. Zoe Rainford, a plumber; and Mrs. Olivia Rainford, a former cheerleader and cartoon artist. Sam and Slick flunked out of FBI training school, but they still learned a few things there -- like how to plan a mission. And the fivesome is determined to do whatever it takes to bring down Douglas Rainford III.

Whatever it takes means attending a top-secret private special-ops training camp in the North Carolina mountains, where Sam meets fiercely disciplined ex-CIA operative Kollar Havapopulas. Six feet three and handsome as a Greek god, "Pappy" is the best at what he does -- transforming civilians into highly skilled fighting teams. What he's less adept at, however, is telling a woman how he feels, and before long he discovers he's developing some very warm feelings for Samantha Rainford -- an attraction that seems fated to be a total disaster. Two personalities as strong as Sam and Pappy are sure to strike sparks, but will the fire that burns between them consume everything in its way?

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Author Information

Bio of Fern Michaels

Webster's Collegiate Dictionary defines a biography this way: A biography is the written history of a person's life. Fern Michaels isn't a person. Fern Michaels is what I DO. Me, Mary Ruth Kuczkir. Growing up in Hastings, Pennsylvania, I was called Ruth. I became Mary when I entered the business world where first names were the order of the day. To this day, family and friends call me Dink, a name my father gave me when I was born because according to him I was `a dinky little thing' weighing in at four and a half pounds. However, I answer to Fern since people are more comfortable with a name they can pronounce. I've been telling stories and scribbling for twenty-five years. I hope I can continue for another twenty-five years. It wasn't easy during some of those years. As I said, I had to persevere. My old Polish grandmother said something to me when I was little that I never forgot. She said when God is good to you, you have to give back. For a while I didn't know how to do that. When I finally figured it out I set up The Fern Michaels Foundation. The foundation allows me to grant four year scholarships to needy, deserving students. I then went a step further and opened pre-school and day care centers with affordable rates for single moms who are having a hard time of it. Doing Fern Michaels allows me to do this and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't thank God for being so good to me. I don't know what I'm the most proud of, the books I write, the scholarships, the pre-schools or the fact that I put my kids through college on my own with no help from anyone. Probably the latter because when all else is said and done, the only thing that matters is family. Is Fern Michaels a great writer. No. She is however, one hell of a story teller. When people ask me what I do, I say, "I scribble and tell stories." It's a great way to make a living. The Dutch have a saying, `If you can't whistle on your way to work, you don't belong in that job.' I whistle all day long.

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Additional Info

Imprint

Pocket

Filesize

594.31 KB

Number of Pages

N/A

eBook ISBN

1416539433

Excerpt from: The Marriage Game by Fern Michaels

Prologue

Samantha Rainford, just hours away from her thirtieth birthday and forty-eight hours away from being served with divorce papers, looked around the tiny apartment she'd lived in for the last five years. It was tiny but cozy and comfortable. For the most part, all she did was sleep here. Every piece of furniture had been chosen with care. Every knickknack meaningful. Even the plants had been chosen with regard to light and temperature. Translated it meant she was a home-and-hearth kind of gal. So much so that her husband of three weeks had just served divorce papers on her.
Sometimes life was a bitch.
Sam took another look around the tiny apartment. She'd sold off the furniture, the knickknacks, and even her luscious plants to the new tenant who was moving in tomorrow, at which point she would move into the condo she'd been in the process of buying when she'd been caught up in a whirlwind romance with Douglas Cosmo Rainford, III.
Samantha gathered up her coat, her purse, and the carry-on that contained what she referred to as her "life," and made her way through the living room to the front door, where her bags waited for her. She shoved them one by one out into the hallway. The manager would have them in the garage waiting to be loaded into her BMW by the time she took the elevator to the garage. Then she would take them to her new condo a mile away in Alexandria, Virginia. The condo was a spacious, two-bedroom, two-bath, up-and-down condo that she'd furnished in two days' time. It even had a fireplace, the main reason she'd bought the condo in the first place. The fireplace was part of her nesting home-and-hearth personality. The kitchen had new appliances and ample counter space. She could hardly wait to cook her first dinner and mess up the place. Best of all, she had an unlisted telephone number that she'd given out to only a select few, including her closest friend Sara, otherwise known as Slick, who was a super, glossy, high-fashion model, her employer, and, of course, the bank where she had her checking and savings accounts. In addition to those accounts, she had several CDs that she'd taken out with her modest inheritance from her grandmother years before and all the savings bonds she'd gotten as gifts during her lifetime. She was definitely solvent.
An hour later Sam was lugging her bags into her new home. The minute the bags were in her spacious living room, she locked the door and danced around the room, clapping her hands in glee. It was all hers. No one could cross the threshold unless she invited them in. All hers. She started to cry then because it wasn't supposed to happen like this. She was supposed to start her new life with her new husband, not alone in a condo just three weeks after her honeymoon.
She swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt as she looked at her watch through tear-filled eyes. She had one hour till her appointment with Douglas's attorney. What that was all about, she had no clue. The call had come in yesterday, just an hour after she'd been served with divorce papers, inviting her to the offices of Prizzi, Prizzi, Prizzi, and Prizzi.
She thought about blowing off the Prizzi law firm but decided to keep the appointment so that when she returned to her new nest, her past would be just that, her past. Her lawyer could handle the divorce, and she would simply move on. She needed time to grieve, to cry and sob, to stomp her feet and get down and ugly. The honeymoon must have been some kind of test that she failed. How crazy was that?
The honeymoon was everything a honeymoon was supposed to be. She'd loved every minute on the exotic island. Loved the togetherness, loved making love on the beach under the stars. Loved hearing her new husband whisper sweet words of undying love in her ears.