New Arrivals: One Secret Child: Mistress, Mother...Wife? / Wealthy Australian, Secret Son / Her Prince's Secret Son
Her Secret, His ChildFive years ago, hotel worker Anna Bailey cast aside her usual shyness for a night with Italian Dante Romano. Now her only reminder of him is her adorable daughter. But when Dante discovers her secret, he demands marriage. He’ll see her at the altar, willing or not!Charlotte Prescott is shocked when Rohan Costello walks through the door. Rohan was Charlotte’s shining white knight until he disappeared – before she had the chance to tell him she was pregnant! Now could be her last chance…Sara hasn’t seen Prince Aleks for five years… He never told her he was a prince and now he’s wearing a crown! Yet she can’t shake the feeling that there are more secrets to be revealed.
Читать New Arrivals: One Secret Child: Mistress, Mother...Wife? / Wealthy Australian, Secret Son / Her Prince's Secret Son онлайн беплатно
These men will do their duty—but marriage and love wasn’t in their plans…
ONE SECRET
CHILD
MAGGIE COX
MARGARET WAY
LINDA GOODNIGHT
New Arrivals One Secret Child
Mistress,
Mother…Wife?
Maggie Cox
Wealthy Australian,
Secret Son
Margaret Way
Her Prince’s
Secret Son
Linda Goodnight
Table of Contents
Maggie Cox
The day MAGGIE COX saw the film version of Wuthering Heights, with a beautiful Merle Oberon and a very handsome Laurence Olivier, was the day she became hooked on romance. From that day onwards she spent a lot of time dreaming up her own romances, secretly hoping that one day she might become published and get paid for doing what she loved most!
Now that her dream is being realised, she wakes up every morning and counts her blessings. She is married to a gorgeous man and is the mother of two wonderful sons. Her two other great passions in life—besides her family and reading/writing—are music and films.
IT WAS a pastime she liked to employ when things got a little slower towards the end of the evening. She’d scan the remaining customers who were lingering over their drinks at tables or at the bar and conjure up a tale about them. Making up stories was meat and drink to Anna… it was the thing that had kept her sane and protected when she was a child. Her little made-up worlds had all been so much safer and fulfilling than reality, and there were many, many times she’d sought refuge there.
Now, as though tugged by a powerful magnet, yet again she considered the handsome, square-jawed individual staring into space in the furthermost corner of the room. He’d occupied the stylish burgundy armchair for at least two hours now, had neither removed his coat nor glanced interestedly at the other well-heeled patrons even once. It was as though they were completely off his radar. All he seemed to be focused on was the inner screen of his own troubled mind.
There was definitely an intense, preoccupied air about him that intrigued Anna. After all, what dreamer with a yen for making up stories wouldn’t be intrigued or provoked by such fascinating material? Making sure she was discreet, she studied him hard. She hadn’t personally looked into his eyes yet, but already she guessed they would have the power to hynotise whoever was caught in their gaze. A small shiver ran down her spine.
Having checked the room to see if she was needed anywhere, she let her gaze return to the mystery man. He had straight mid-blond hair, with hints of silver in it, and appeared to be growing out a cut that had probably been both stylish and expensive. Everything about him exuded wealth and good taste, a well as the sense of power and entitlement that often accompanied those attributes. Although his eye-catching broad shoulders appeared weighed down by his concerns, he also wore a fierce need for privacy that was like an invisible electronic gate, warning all comers that they encroached upon his space at their peril. Had an important deal gone sour? Had someone deceived him or seriously let him down in some way? He didn’t look like a man who suffered fools gladly.
Anna sighed, then studied him again. No…she’d got it all wrong. The black coat he was wearing suddenly sang out to her. He’d lost someone close. Yes, that was it. He was grieving. That was why his expression was so haunted and morose. As she studied his formidable chiselled profile, with the deep shadow of a cleft centred in that square-cut chin, it seemed almost impertinent to speculate about him further if she’d guessed the truth. Poor man… He must be feeling totally wretched.
The third Scotch on the rocks he’d ordered was drained right down to the bottom of the glass, Anna noticed. Would he be ordering another one? Bitter personal experience had taught her that alcohol never solved anything. All it had done for her father was make his black moods even blacker.
The hotel bar closed at eleven-thirty and it was already a quarter past, she saw. Collecting a tray, she circumnavigated the tables with her usual light step, her heart thudding like a brick dropped into a millpond as she overrode her natural inclination to stay well clear. In front of the man, she schooled her lips into a pleasant smile.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but will you be requiring another drink? Only, the bar will be closing soon.’
Glittering blue-grey eyes that contained all the warmth of a perilous icy sea swivelled to survey her. For a startled second Anna told herself it served her right if she received a frosty reception, when his body language clearly signalled that he wanted to be left alone. But just then a corner of the austere masculine mouth lifted in the mocking semblance of a smile.
