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Raquel and Harrison sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.First comes love.Then comes marriage.Then comes a baby in the baby carriage. That's how her brother used to sing it when we were kids-a simple ploy to get under my skin and make me stick my fist in his face-but man oh man, did he get the order wrong. One night of kissing in New York catapulted us straight to the pregnancy portion of the song-surprise -and now I have to figure out how to carry out the whole melody in reverse. A baby on the way first.Then love and marriage?It's complicated on its best day. But our situation is far more problematic than just a simple twist of nursery rhyme lyrics. Before our night together, Raquel Weaver was the best-known good girl in Hollywood-a twenty-nine-year-old innocent beauty whom the world adored and watched like a hawk. Obviously, the consequences of that kind of reputation don't just go away. Add in pregnancy hormones, the media, a fake fianc , and a selfish manager, and you have the short list of my problems. As a thirty-four-year-old, successful CFO of a multibillion-dollar media conglomerate, I thought I would be able to handle anything show business could throw my way, but I'm starting to think I might be in over my head. Good thing I'm all in.Winning Hollywood's goodest girl is going to take everything I've got.