Sheâs going to take her life backâ¦one sizzling night at a time!
It used to be Nicky Sinclairâs nightmares that kept her up all night; those 3:00 a.m. silences were her worst enemy. So now sheâs following doctorâs ordersârest, relaxation and plenty of therapeutic Spanish sunshine.
Only she hasnât counted on sharing her tranquil retreat with her best friendâs brother, Rafael, whose presence is anything but peaceful! With his beguiling eyes and smoldering smile, he quickly becomes a very welcome distraction. After all, if sheâs struggling to sleep, why not find something else to do with her timeâ¦?
âSo what plans do you have next?â
He asked the question ignoring the little voice inside his head demanding to know where he thought he was going with this, because she might not really be over it and she might need looking after, but he definitely wasnât the sort of person who should be getting involved.
She lifted her eyebrows. âYou mean beyond some more of that lovely, restorative sex?â
âBeyond that.â
She blinked and shrugged. âI donât know. Iâm not very good at living beyond the present.â
âWell, Iâm at a loose end⦠Youâre at a loose end⦠What would you say to tying our loose ends together for a while?â
She lifted her eyebrows then grinned. âIâd say does that line really work?â
Rafael frowned because oddly enough it hadnât been a line. âI have no idea. You tell me.â
Dear Reader,
Ah, southern Spain⦠What is it about that part of the country thatâs so enthralling? Is it the sultry strains of the Spanish guitar drifting through the breeze of a warm summerâs night? The gunfire tap of a flamenco dancerâs heels on the dusty floorboards of a dark, crowded bar? The desert-dry sherry and the mouthwatering tapas? Or is it the tall, dark, handsome men?
Iâve been living and working in the southwest corner of Andalusia since 2005 and Iâve come to think itâs all of that (and much, much more).
As, eventually, does Nicky Sinclair, the heroine of One More Sleepless Night. Okay, so in the beginning sheâs in too much of a mess to appreciate all the charms of Andalusia, but as she begins to sort herself out she finds herself succumbing. And she might be in too much of a mess initially to appreciate the considerable charms of Rafael Montero (one of the aforementioned tall, dark and handsome Spaniards), but in the end she finds herself succumbing to those, as well!
I loved being able to draw on such local inspiration for the setting of this story and letting my imagination work with the wonderful smells, sights and sounds of the place I call home.
Whatâs even more exciting is that this is my first book for Harlequin KISS, a line so contemporary, fun and sassy I canât wait to write more! I do hope you enjoy reading it.
x Lucy
ABOUT LUCY KING
Lucy King spent her formative years lost in the world of romance novels when she really ought to have been paying attention to her teachers. Up against sparkling heroines, gorgeous heroes and the magic of falling in love, trigonometry and ablative absolutes didnât stand a chance.
But as she couldnât live in a dream world forever, she eventually acquired a degree in languages and an eclectic collection of jobs. A stroll to the River Thames one Saturday morning led her to her very own hero. The minute she laid eyes on the hunky rower getting out of a boat, clad only in Lycra and carrying a three-meter oar as if it was a toothpick, she knew sheâd met the man she was going to marry. Luckily the rower thought the same.
She will always be grateful to whatever it was that made her stop dithering and actually sit down to type Chapter One, because dreaming up her own sparkling heroines and gorgeous heroes is pretty much her idea of the perfect job.
Originally a Londoner, Lucy now lives in Spain, where she spends much of the time reading, failing to finish cryptic crosswords and trying to convince herself that lying on the beach really is the best way to work. Visit her at www.lucykingbooks.com.
This and other titles by Lucy King are available in ebook formatâcheck out www.millsandboon.co.uk
ONE
There was someone in the house.
With the slam of the front door ringing in her ears, Nicky sat bolt upright in bed, her heart hammering like a pneumatic drill, alarm racing along her veins and her fingers gripping the edges of her book so tightly her knuckles were white.
A couple of seconds ago sheâd been lying back against the pillows, happily lost in the romantic world of Don Quijote. Sheâd been trotting across the dry deserted plains of La Mancha in search of knight errantry and adventure, and vaguely contemplating the intoxicating notion that for the first time in weeks she might actually be beginning to relax.