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March Morgan still believes in true love, but her faith in finding her soul mate is slowly vanishing.She’s been married but never in love. So, it is a miracle to find that fantasy exists on the last page of a glossy women’s journal. Mayfair Electronics, Ltd., in black and white, offers Love for Sale. The London firm has engineered sentient androids indistinguishable from humans. She flies to England and meets the man she has been searching for her entire life.
Christian requires no programming to love March at first sight. He’s handsome, cultured…absolutely perfect…and a little different from the other androids. He has an unexpected independent streak. March signs on the dotted line, buying her dream man. They return to Houston, but soon her past and his future threaten their Happily Ever After—indeed their lives.
Motionless, she watched the parade of beauty, but none of them struck the special chord that would make her heart sing. They can be customized, she reminded herself. Still, it took more than looks to make her fall in love.
Then he strode through the door, and her heart did a double backflip. She inhaled a soft gasp. He was perfect, no customization needed. The only programming required was a sense of humor and an intense libido. Lord, she wanted to touch him, run her fingers through his hair and kiss that luscious mouth.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” His voice defined musical and played that special chord she’d dreamed of. “I was on the phone.”
The Special Editions had gathered around her. The auburn-haired woman whispered a laugh. “Is there any need for more than one introduction, Ms. Morgan?”
That someone was speaking barely registered. March didn’t respond. She was speechless and couldn’t peel her gaze off the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His eyes were crystalline blue, his hair wheat colored. She’d wanted sparks. She’d gotten fireworks! No way in hell was she leaving London without him.
Spellbound, March was drawn one step toward perfection, her willful eyes traveling over his body, pausing at his zipper, sliding down his long legs. The wasted years looped through her memory, regret stinging her eyes.
Melissa squeezed her hand. “Ah, you like our blond.” She beckoned. “Come, Christian.”
In tight jeans and a tux jacket with plaid cummerbund and bow tie, her dream man paused in the light of a crystal and gold chandelier.
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