Something old, something new-sister one or sister two After her parents' vast fortune is stolen in a shady wire transfer, Dory Lambert, armed with a hard-earned M.B.A. and a savvy entrepreneurial spirit, vows to clear the family name and recover their wealth. But just as she sets her plan in motion, Dory is thrown off-kilter by the return of her childhood crush: the chauffeur's son, Chase McKay. Can Dory charm this handsome man using her dark good looks and sharp mind, or will he fall prey-again-to Dory's gorgeous blond sister, Jill, a carefree soul whom every man desires
Fourteen-year-old Missouri rich girl Dory Lambert worshipped Chase McKay, the chauffeur's son, even after she saw him with his hands down her beautiful older sister Jill's pants. After the incident, Chase was packed off to college by the girls' father only to eventually become an incredibly wealthy architect. When Chase returns from New York to visit his father, Charles, 16 years later, he finds himself struck once again by Jill's beauty-and also by Dory's good looks and maturity. But after he bungles an attempt to bribe Dory into making his father retire, Jill launches Operation Cockroach. If Jill's scheme succeeds, Chase will marry her, and his money will refill her family's depleted coffers. Even as Chase falls in with Jill's plan, he finds himself attracted to Dory and wondering if he's chasing the wrong sister. Throw in an eccentric cast of characters, including a sweetly wicked little boy and a nerdy FBI agent who fires Jill's engines, and you've got... romance Hardly. Chase doesn't emerge as a viable or even likable hero until the last quarter of the book, and readers will find it hard to believe that the object of his affections is someone he's never even kissed. Michaels (Mother of the Bride, etc.) has a gift for humor, but this Sabrina homage comes across as more silly than romantic. Agent, Stephanie Kip Rostan at the Levine Greenberg Agency. (Feb.) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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January 24, 2005
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Excerpt from Honeymoon Suite by Lynn Michaels
It was Saturday. Dory Lambert ' s favorite day of the week. On Saturday, Chase McKay, the chauffeur ' s son, washed the cars.
One by one he ' d drive them out of the garage, fan them on the tarmac and take off his shirt. It was the high point of fourteen-year-old Dory ' s dumb, boring, stupid, pointless week.
The Rolls, the Bentley and Daddy ' s grand old Packard touring car. The Town Car that Daddy occasionally drove himself. Mother ' s Volvo, her sister Jilly ' s 1957 Thunderbird hardtop convertible, the Chevy station wagon and the van that Wallace the butler used for errands.
It was a lot of hosing, sponging, wiping and polishing so Chase started early. No later than seven a.m., Dory would plunk herself with a book on the round bench under the massive old elm tree that grew by the garage. Close enough that she could see Chase and he could pretend she wasn ' t there. He was awfully good at that.
She ' d lie on the bench reading till Chase started to get tired, till the scowl that made her heart twist curled the corner of his mouth. When he upended the red plastic milk crate that held the sponges and chamois cloths, sat down on it and lit a cigarette, Dory would put her book aside, sidle up to him and say, ' I ' ll give you a hand, Chase. '
' Are you trying to get me in trouble ' He ' d squint at her through a curl of smoke. ' Go away, squirt. '
' You won ' t get in trouble, ' she ' d say. ' Nobody cares what I do. '
Dory didn ' t say because she wasn ' t beautiful like Jilly, but it was true. Chase would flip his cigarette away, throw a sponge at her and go back to work. Dory would chase the sponge down, pick it up and start scrubbing. Chase would scowl for a while, then he ' d smile. He ' d flip soapsuds at her when they met at the bucket. Next thing Dory knew, she ' d have a bucket of her own. Chase would go to the spigot and fill one for her, drop down on his heels beside her and show her how to get the road gunk off the chrome fenders. The brush of his arm against hers made her stomach flutter.
At some point in the morning Jilly would walk by with her friends. In boots and jodhpurs on their way to the stables, in white pleated skirts swinging tennis rackets, or pastel shorts and matching sun visors on their way to the nine-hole golf course. Dory could feel the spring that would tighten in Chase and turn him around half a second before Jilly appeared with her friends.
Jilly was blond, leggy ' ' coltish, ' Mother called her in those days before her figure filled out ' and gorgeous. She and her friends never stopped, but their eyes would slide toward Chase. He ' d turn around and stand there, let them look at him as they walked past, his naked, blond-haired chest sweaty with soap. The blue eyes that met and held his longest were Jilly ' s. When they were gone, Chase would turn back to Dory and pick up where he ' d left off showing her how to get just the right buff on the bumper of the Rolls.