Trying to escape marriage,
they are snared by love.
When Sam Sinclair's self-made millionaire grandfather sends Willa Kent, a woman none of the three Sinclair brothers have even heard of, as his proxy to an ultra-important meeting of the Sinclair shipping company, most people would think the old man had lost his marbles. But Sam knows his grandfather too well. For some reason, the wily old man has decided that one of his three grandsons should marry Willa, and this is his way of trying to force the issue....
So Willa and Sam team up on what seems like a wild-goose chase to find some loophole in Grandfather Sinclair's crazy notion. But as Sam crews Willa's yacht en route to Maine, he finds to his surprise that his grandfather's offbeat scheme is growing more attractive by the moment. Willa is smart, beautiful...and has a wild streak that sends them soaring together above the clouds.
But Willa isn't about to let Sam fly away with her heart until she knows his true motives. If the man wants to marry for money, then the woman in her says that first he must fall in love.
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October 27, 2008
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Excerpt from The Man Must Marry by Janet Chapman
Chapter OneSam Sinclair stood beside Tidewater International's reception desk, waiting for the elevator to reach the thirtieth floor. The bell finally pinged, and whatever expectations Sam had, the woman revealed by the opening doors was... she was...Good Lord, Abram had sent them a partridge!Her hair, which had probably started out as a neat bun, was disassembling around her face. Though she couldn't be a day older than thirty, the shapeless brown suit she was wearing was more appropriate for someone twice her age. Half of her blouse hung out below the jacket. Both of her stockings had runs, the overnight bag at her feet the likely culprit. The woman truly resembled a partridge, her plain brown feathers rumpled and sadly outdated.She looked exactly like a Willamina.Frozen in shock, Sam watched as her monstrous purse fell into the lobby when she bent down to pick up her yellow overnight bag. She scrambled out of the elevator with a muttered curse, unsteady on two-inch heels, and retrieved her purse just as the elevator doors closed.Her overnight bag was still inside.The straps to it, however, were in her hand.Instead of the doors reopening as they should have, the elevator softly pinged again, and the handles rose up along the crack in the doors. They stopped at the top, the woman frantically tugging on them. Sam heard the unmistakable sound of cloth ripping, and Willamina Kent fell to the floor with a yelp of surprise, the handles of her bag still in her hands.Several people in the decidedly stunned audience finally rushed over to help her, and the floor beneath Sam's feet shifted at the sight of the warm, shy, sincere smile she bestowed on her rescuers.God help them, they'd been invaded by an angelic frump.This wasnotwhat they needed right now. The shareholders meeting today, to decide the new CEO of Tidewater International, was going to be a circus.And it was all Bram's fault.Abram Sinclair had sent a terse cable from Maine that morning, stating that he was sending Willamina Kent in his stead. Miss Kent held Bram's proxy vote, which would decide who would be succeeding him as chief executive officer.His grandfather had entrusted the fate of a multibillion-dollar business to a woman who couldn't even exit an elevator without causing an uproar?Several Tidewater employees were gathered around her as Miss Kent zealously explained the absurd chain of events that had ended with the bag-eating elevator. Sam edged closer."I flew in on one of those commuter prop planes. My seat was right between those huge propellers," she explained, tugging her ear, "and now my ears won't stop ringing. You'd think they would have put the airport closer to the city, too. The cab ride was nearly two hours! Heck, I could have rented a car for the fare I paid."Ten to one, the cabbie also had found Willamina Kent a plump partridge and had given her the scenic tour. What was usually a mere hour's drive in midday traffic could take nearly two hours if the victim didn't know her way around Manhattan."Miss Kent," Sam said, moving forward and grasping her elbow. "The meeting is ready to begin, if you are." He ignored her subtle tug for freedom."But my luggage...""Someone will retrieve it for you," he promised, looking at one of the men. "And have maintenance see why the elevator doors didn't reopen," he added, then turned to lead her down the hall.Sam had to stop when she stumbled. She looked up with intense, curious eyes of an indescribable color. They looked gray at first glance, or maybe blue. They were definitely arresting."Who are you?" she asked."Sam Sinclair." He dropped his gaze to frown at her shoes, which didn't match her suit. Her skirt and jacket were brown. Her shoes were green. And they looked too big for her feet."Abram's grandson," she said.It wasn't a question. Sam forced a tight smile. "His oldest grandson.""How do you know who