THE WIVES OF FRANKIE FERRARO
Beyond a handsome face and perfect body, Frankie Ferraro has few assets, but that doesn't stop him from having big ambitions. Young and romantic, he finds the life led by his immigrant father, his adoring mother, his hard-working sister, by his entire extended family, to be ordinary, and dull. He wants no part of it. Full of vague longings and what seem to him to be hopeless dreams, he yearns to be different: assured and stylish instead of gauche; and rich, not in a gaudy, flamboyant way but with the soft sheen of old money like his army-buddy and best-friend, Dan Colvington. Above all, Frankie yearns for true love, though not if offered by any neighborhood girl. Only a woman who can help turn his dreams into reality has a chance of winning his heart.
With Dan as his model, Frankie transforms himself. He learns what fork to use, what clothes to wear, what books to read. He refuses to join his father's rag-trade business to set out on his own, buying a health-club franchise. He even marries a relative of Dan's, the beautiful and troubled Miranda.
Luckier in money than in love, Frankie turns this one club into an east-coast sensation, the talk of Manhattan, and the base of a business empire. But his marriage to Miranda ends tragically; and, though determined not to make the same mistake again, he does with the demanding Lady Annabel; and might yet a third time with the spoiled and frivolous Kelly.
Like a knight of old, the hero of this engaging
and heart-felt novel must fight his way past all his dragons—anger, arrogance,
and, above all, bad judgment—before he can find his one true love in the
last place he expected her to be.
Excerpt from Chapter One
If Frankie had ever seen
a Botticelli, he would have thought Miranda reminded him of one. As it
was, she reminded him of nothing so much as Walt Disney's Cinderella. She
could have stepped out of Frankie's dreams. Her hair was yellow, soft curls
escaping from the tortoiseshell clip fastened to the crown of her head.
Her eyes were a brilliant blue fringed by long lashes darkened with mascara.
It was the only makeup she wore. Her nose was short and straight, her mouth
full. Lovely bare shoulders swelled out of the ruffles of a white dress
that fell in soft flounces to her calves. The long, delicate fingers of
her small hands were tipped with pale pink polish, as were the toes exposed
in white sandals. Her ears were the most beautiful ears Frankie had ever
seen, set close to her head, small, perfect, like seashells, he thought.