New York Times bestselling author Shirley Jump didnât have the will-power to diet, nor the talent to master under-eye concealer, so she bowed out of a career in television and opted instead for a career where she could be paid to eat at her deskâwriting. At first, seeking revenge on her children for their grocery store tantrums, she sold embarrassing essays about them to anthologies. However, it wasnât enough to feed her growing addiction to writing funny. So she turned to the world of romance novels, where messes are (usually) cleaned up before The End. In the worlds Shirley gets to create and control, the children listen to their parents, the husbands always remember holidays, and the housework is magically done by elves. Though sheâs thrilled to see her books in stores around the world, Shirley mostly writes because it gives her an excuse to avoid cleaning the toilets and helps feed her shoe habit. To learn more, visit her website at www.shirleyjump.com
Praise for Shirley Jumpâ¦
âShirley Jump always succeeds in getting the plot, the characters, the settings and the emotions right.â
â CataRomance.com
About NYT bestselling anthology Sugar and Spice: âJumpâs office romance gives the collection a kick, with fiery writing.â â PublishersWeekly.com
Shirley Jumpâs THE OTHER WIFE: âFilled with humour and heart, this is a wonderful book.â
â Romantic Times BOOKreviews
Nick considered Carolyn for a long second. She felt as if he could see past every wall sheâd constructed, every bit of armour sheâd put in place over the years.
He leaned down until his mouth met her ear. His breath whispered past a lock of her hair. âYou look beautiful today, Carolyn.â
Something hot and warm raced through her veins. She refused to react to him, though her hormones didnât seem to be riding the same resolve wagon.
âThank you.â
He was still close, so close she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. If she leaned a few inches to the right, she could touch him. Feel his cheek against hers.
âOooh, Miss Duff has a boyfriend,â the children sing-songed.
Dear Reader
My grandmother is nearly a hundred years old, and every time I see her it makes me think about all the changes she has seen happen during her lifetime. The invention of televisions, automobiles, airplanes, computers. Things that have become indispensable to you and me, and were not even around when she was a child. My husband and I tour museums with our kids, and show them things that were in use during their great-grandmotherâs childhood. To them, itâs as if she grew up in the Paleolithic Era.
A hundred years. Just thinking about that much time has me in awe. When my editor told me that Mills & Boon is celebrating its 100th birthday this year, I was stunned. In an era when companies come and go with the winds, to hear that Mills & Boon has had such longevity is amazing.
I attribute that not to the great editorial staff or the wonderful authorsâboth of whom are a big part of making Mills & Boon what it isâbut to you, the reader. Without our dear and loyal readers we wouldnât have enjoyed such long-lasting success. Your commitment to these books, and to the written word, has made Mills & Boon into what it is today. A centegenarian. And, whatâs more, even at 100, Mills & Boon is moving fast, with exciting new programmes and great new books every month.
Thanks to you. So, my hat is off to Mills & Boon and my gratitude is deep for our readers. And the next time I see my grandmother Iâll have to ask her if she remembers seeing these little books when she was young. I think sheâll be pleased to know theyâre just a little older than her.
Shirley
To my parents, who gave dozens of refugees a home in the United States and changed their lives forever. From them, I learned the value of opening your heart to those in need and that family is created, not always born.
CHAPTER ONE
CAROLYN DUFF had made one major mistake in her lifeâa whopping cliché of a mistake in a Vegas wedding chapelâwhich hadnât, unlike the commercials said, stayed in Vegas.
It had followed her back hereâand was working in an office just a few blocks down the street. All six-foot-two of him.
Most days she forgot about Nicholas Gilbert and concentrated on her job. As an assistant city prosecutor she barely had time to notice when the sun went down, because her days tended to pass in a blur of phone calls, legal precedents, Indiana case law and urgent e-mails. Her calendar might have said Friday, her clock already ticking past five, but still Carolyn stayed behind her desk, finishing up yet another flurry of work, even though tomorrow was the start of the Fourth of July weekend and the courts would be closed until Tuesday.
For Carolyn it didnât matter. An internal time bomb kept ticking away, pushing her to keep going, to pursue one more criminal case, to see the prison bars slam shut once more.
To know sheâd done her part again.