Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author
ANNE MATHER
Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.
This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance for readers to recapture the pleasure Anneâs powerful, passionate writing has given.
We are sure you will love them all!
Iâve always wanted to writeâwhich is not to say Iâve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasnât until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishersâ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, Iâm literallyâexcuse the punâstaggered by whatâs happened.
I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from childrenâs adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first Iâd ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but thatâs the way it was.
These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I canât imagine not having a current book on the typewriterâyes, itâs my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. Heâs my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.
We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and Iâd be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.
O LIVER was standing staring out of the long plate-glass windows of his fourteenth-storey office when the intercom on the desk behind him emitted a low buzz.
Sighing, he turned away from the view of the rain-wet Newcastle streets and strode across the wide expanse of dark blue broadloom to depress the button that connected him with his secretary next door. âYes?â he said shortly, not welcoming the interruption, and Mrs Clements cleared her throat before replying.
âItâs your brother, Mr Ferreira,â she said, momentarily stunning him into silence. âI told him you were busy, but he insists that youâll see him.â She paused. âWill you?â
Oliver was still getting over the fact that his brother had had the nerve to come here when he heard the altercation in the outer office. Thomas Ferreira would resent being subjected to any delay and a moment later Oliverâs door swung wide. A tall broad-shouldered man stood belligerently on the threshold with the diminutive figure of Mrs Clements hovering anxiously behind.
âWhat the hell is this?â he demanded, his fair good-looking features flushed with angry colour. âDo I need an appointment to see you these days, Oliver? I know itâs a while since weâve spoken to one another, but for Godâs sake, lighten up, canât you?â
Oliver released the button of the intercom and straightened away from the broad slab of granite that topped his desk. Ignoring his brother, he looked beyond his stocky frame to the nervous figure of his secretary. âItâs all right, Mrs Clements,â he said reassuringly. âI know you did your best not to let him in.â
Mrs Clements clasped her hands together. âYou wonât forget youâve agreed to see Mr Adler at four oâclock, will you, Mr Ferreira?â
âHe wonât forget,â stated Thomas rudely, taking charge of the door. âAnd I donât intend to keep him long, so donât look so worried. Iâm only his brother, not the tax inspector.â
Mrs Clements ignored that comment and managed to wedge herself between the closing door and its frame. âIs there anything I can get you, Mr Ferreira? Some tea or coffee, perhaps?â
âSo long as itâs not a bottle of Scotch,â Thomas interposed caustically, but Oliver disregarded the younger man and said politely, âSome tea, Mrs Clements, if itâs not too much trouble?â
âOf course itâs not too much trouble.â Thomas mocked the womanâs reply as he closed the door and rested for a moment against the mahogany panels. âHonestly, Oliver, surely you know that woman would walk on hot coals, if you asked her.â He pulled a wry face. âMost women would, for that matter.â