"Amy Andrews' luxurious Italian backdrop is so beguiling that readers will believe they're walking along the craggy Mediterranean coastline and smelling the garlic and onions wafting from Mama Medici's homey Italian kitchen. And the well-written medical scenes support the growing love between the hero and heroine instead of detracting from their romance."
4 stars, Cindy Himler
"Amy Andrews is a brilliant author who creates characters readers’ not only fall in love with but also want to get to know personally and The Italian Count’s Baby is but one reason why."
4 1/2 stars, Sheryl
Virginal nurse Katya Petrov spent just one passionate night with talented Italian surgeon Count Benedetto, but now she has to tell the renowned playboy she is having his baby!
When Benedetto discovers the truth, he immediately offers Katya marriage--for the baby's sake! But Katya is in love with Ben, and soon realizes that a convenient proposal isn't enough. She longs for Ben to give her his heart, as she has given him hers....
One of the most elegant looking women Katya had ever seen entered the room from stairs to their right. She was tall and regal, her silver hair swept back into a glamorous chignon. So much for round and soft with a mole on her chin! She threw her arms in the air and broke into enthusiastic Italian as she embraced her son.
Katya stood back and watched their easy affection. She felt a pang of envy as his mother grabbed his cheeks and planted an enthusiastic kiss on each. Their closeness was a stark contrast to the strained relationship she shared with her own mother and Katya felt even more out of her depth.
The similarities between the two were striking. He had his mother’s high cheekbones and her strong patrician nose. And as the older woman opened her eyes and smiled at her, Katya realized that this would be her baby’s grandmother. There was so much love in this room, in this homey Italian kitchen, that Katya felt tears well in her eyes. She blinked them away quickly but not before she saw a faint narrowing of the older woman’s eyes. Ben’s mother had seen her tears.
“Mama, this is Katya Petrova,” Ben said, pulling out of his mother’s embrace. “Katya, this is my mother, Contessa Lucia Medici.”
Katya held out her hand tentatively, not sure how to greet a Contessa. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Contessa,” Katya said.
The Contessa smiled and came forward her arm out-stretched, too, firing rapid Italian.
“English, Mamma,” Ben broke in, reminding her gently.
“Of course, I’m sorry,” the Contessa smiled at Katya slipping easily into near perfect English.
“Forgive my manners. Please, call me Lucia.”
The Contessa swept Katya into a hug as enthusiastic as the one she’d given to her own flesh and blood. Katya felt awkward in her embrace, completely unused to displays of motherly affection. But the Contessa’s eyes were kind and again she felt absurdly close to tears.
“Shall we adjourn outdoors?” Lucia suggested as she pulled away. “Benedetto.” She turned to her son. “Bring the wine,” she commanded.
Katya followed Lucia down the stairs from where she’d entered the kitchen earlier. It lead to a magnificent terrace with one-hundred-and-eighty-degree uninterrupted views of the Mediterranean below and the majestic craggy coastline in both directions.
There was a round outdoor table with a striking ceramic top. It had been hand-painted with a typical Mediterranean lemon-grove scene. A bowl of the bright yellow fruit sat in the middle of the table and Katya could smell their magnificent tartness.
Ben joined them, glasses clinking. He placed them on the table and poured them each a generous measure. Katya placed a hand over her glass. Ben raised his eyebrows.
“Wine gives me a headache,” she said, saying the first thing that popped in to her head.
Ben gave her a disbelieving look. Since when? “This from a girl who could drink vodka for Russia.”
“Benedetto,” his mother scolded, “don’t be rude. Run up and get some water.”
“Yes, Benedetto,” Katya teased, unable to resist. “Run along.”
Too late Katya realized that Lucia might disapprove of her informality. What if she thought that Ben should be addressed as befitting a man of his stature? But the Contessa clapped her hands gleefully and her eyes twinkled with delight. Katya breathed a sigh of relief.
Calling him by his title would be plain weird given the things they had been through. The times they had stood side by side, their hands inside some stranger’s body, locked in a battle for their life. Or the time they had sought solace in each other’s bodies. Some relationships transcended titles and if their work relationship hadn’t cut it then their intimate joining certainly had.
Ben chuckled and left to do his mother’s bidding. He returned quickly with a bottle of sparkling water and poured some into Katya’s glass. He sat in the chair beside her and she was instantly conscious of his potent male heat.
“To bossy Russian nurses,” Ben said, raising his glass.
“Benedetto!” Lucia gasped.
Katya saw the twinkle in his eye and the perfect upward curve of his beautiful full lips. “To flashy Italian Counts,” she parried.