DEAR READER LETTER
By Sharon Kendrick
Dear Reader,
One hundred. Doesnât matter how many times I say it, I still canât believe thatâs how many books Iâve written. Itâs a fabulous feeling but more fabulous still is the news that Mills & Boon are issuing every single one of my backlist as digital titles. Wow. I canât wait to share all my stories with you - which are as vivid to me now as when I wrote them.
Thereâs BOUGHT FOR HER HUSBAND, with its outrageously macho Greek hero and A SCANDAL, A SECRET AND A BABY featuring a very sexy Tuscan. THE SHEIKHâS HEIR proved so popular with readers that it spent two weeks on the USA Today charts andâ¦well, I could go on, but Iâll leave you to discover them for yourselves.
I remember the first line of my very first book: âSo youâve come to Australia looking for a husband?â Actually, the heroine had gone to Australia escape men, but guess what? She found a husband all the same! The man who inspired that book rang me up recently and when I told him I was beginning my 100th story and couldnât decide what to write, he said, âWhy donât you go back to where it all started?â
So I did. And thatâs how A ROYAL VOW OF CONVENIENCE was born. It opens in beautiful Queensland and moves to England and New York. Itâs about a runaway princess and the enigmatic billionaire who is infuriated by her, yet who winds up rescuing her. But then, she goes and rescues him⦠Wouldnât you know it?
Iâll end by saying how very grateful I am to have a career I love, and to thank each and every one of you who has supported me along the way. You really are very dear readers.
Love,
Sharon xxx
Mills & Boon are proud to present a thrilling digital collection of all Sharon Kendrickâs novels and novellas for us to celebrate the publication of her amazing and awesome 100th book! Sharon is known worldwide for her likeable, spirited heroines and her gorgeous, utterly masculine heroes.
SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition, describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that sheâd just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon, featuring her often stubborn but always to-die-for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like lifeâ¦
To Bryony Green, the best editor in the world!
NATASHA didnât have to see his face to know something was wrong.
She could tell from the slamming of the door and the heavy footfalls in the hall. From the momentary hesitation which was not like Raffaele at all. The barely muffled curse; some Italian expletive, she thought. She listened while he hung his suit jacket up in the hall and heard him go into his study. Then silenceâand something very much like fear stirred within her and she didnât understand why.
He had been away to Americaâwhere he owned real-estate on both the east and west coastâand whenever he returned from a trip he always came to find her. To ask her how sheâd been. How Sam was.
Sometimes, if he was flying by commercial rather than private jet, he would even remember to bring the child some soft toy or game that heâd bought at the airport. Once she had seen him remove a shiny gold box of perfume from his briefcase, and her heart had begun to thud with a ridiculous excitement. But she had never seen it again.
The scent had not been destined for Natasha. Presumably it had gone to the leggy supermodel he had been seeing at the timeâthe one whoâd always used to leave a stocking or a scarf behind in the bathroom, like some territorial trophy, marking out her pitch.
The study was still ominously silent, and Natasha began making a pot of mega-strong coffeeâjust as Raffaele had taught her to when sheâd first gone to work for him. Wasnât it crazy how memories could stay stuck fast in your head, even though they meant nothing? Natasha could still remember the shiver sheâd felt as heâd bent close to her, too close for her comfortâthough, not, it had seemed, for his. He had been too intent on showing her what to do to notice the mousy-looking woman at his side.
His voice had dipped, like soft velvet underpinned with steel. âIn Italy we say that the coffee should look like ink and taste like heaven. Very strong and very darkâlike the best kind of man. You understand? Capisci?â And the black eyes had glittered at her in mocking question, as if it amused him that a woman should need to be taught how to make coffee.