Modern Romance January Books 1-4. Кейт Хьюит
Cover Text
The Spaniard’s Untouched Bride
Maisey Yates
To save her inheritance...
His price is marriage!
Camilla Alvarez refuses to abandon her beloved horses when formidable tycoon Matías Navarro acquires her family’s renowned rancho. Instead, she disguises herself as his stable boy! Yet when Camilla’s charade is discovered, Matías offers her an even more shocking role—as his wife! Innocent Camilla is transformed into a bride deserving of his diamonds, but their convenient marriage is transformed by the scalding heat of their wedding night...
Lose yourself in this tale of innocence and desire...
To romance novels.
which have been my inspiration as a writer,
and my comfort as a reader.
I’m grateful there’s an entire genre devoted to love.
HE DOESN’T HIRE WOMEN.
Camilla Alvarez looked into the mirror at her decidedly plain reflection. She was a woman, that much was true. Though, she had never been considered a beauty. Even so, she imagined that as far as Matías Navarro was concerned, she was a woman.
Her cheeks were still wet with tears, her eyes glittering with more. It was unthinkable. Losing her father suddenly as she had to a heart attack, and then losing the ranch, as well. And all the horses...
It was her heart. And, shattered though it was, fractured as it was now, she couldn’t lose it. She could not.
But the horses, the rancho, everything was being sold to cover her father’s debts. Everything was going to Matías Navarro.
He had been one of her father’s fiercest competitors. His racehorses were the only steeds that could compete with those of Cesar Alvarez.
And now Matías owned them.
Because apparently, their rancho had been in debt, the supposed millions of dollars that her family possessed nothing more than smoke and mirrors. All mortgaged to extremes and behind on every payment.
Her father had been an idealist. A man completely laser-focused on his ranch, his animals, his workers. With little time or thought given to anything else. She didn’t even have to ask herself how it had happened. She knew. Her father hadn’t liked the situation, and so he had ignored it.
Collectors had been hounding Camilla ever since Cesar’s death. And her mother—predictably—had gone off to France, taking shelter under the wing of one of her many lovers.
She had always flaunted them in the face of her husband, but Camilla supposed that now that Cesar was dead, her mother felt it was all justified seeing as she clearly had an insurance policy.
Camilla had nothing. Nothing but the rancho. The place she had grown up in, grown wild in. Her mother had rarely been in residence, and for most of Camilla’s life, it had simply been her and her father.
And he had allowed her to do whatever she wanted. To run barefoot. To ride until she reached the end of the property, and then beyond. Roaming all over the Spanish countryside as she pleased.
Her mother, an American heiress who had never settled well into the rural country life, had seen it all as beneath her.
Camilla had seen it as everything.