Resisting The Italian Single Dad
Under the Italian sun!Widower billionaire Max Lovato has hired sleep consultant Carly Knight to help his daughter. Carly realises little Isabella isn’t the only one hiding a wealth of pain. But helping to heal Max’s scarred heart, means risking her own once again.
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Falling in loveâ¦
Under the Italian sun!
As a sleep consultant, Carly Knight has had many strange requests, but none quite as unusual as accompanying a client to a Lake Como wedding! Widower billionaire Max Lovato has hired her to help his daughter, yet while spending time with Max amid the champagne and confetti, Carly realizes little Isabella isnât the only one hiding a wealth of pain. But helping to heal Maxâs scarred heart means risking her own once again.
A city-loving book addict, peony obsessive KATRINA CUDMORE lives in Cork, Ireland, with her husband, four active children and a very daft dog. A psychology graduate, with an MSc in Human Resources, Katrina spent many years working in multinational companies and canât believe she is lucky enough now to have a job that involves daydreaming about love and handsome men! You can visit Katrina at katrinacudmore.com.
Swept into the Rich Manâs World
The Best Manâs Guarded Heart
Her First-Date Honeymoon
Their Baby Surprise
Tempted by the Greek Tycoon
Christmas with the Duke
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
ISBN: 978-1-474-09057-5
RESISTING THE ITALIAN SINGLE DAD
© 2018 Katrina Cudmore
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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To Harry, my night owl.
Contents
THE EXACT SECOND her office clock hit midday, Carly Knight grabbed her laptop bag and the yellow cardboard box jammed with the natural sleeping aids she brought to all her parent talks. She was about to leave her office when the angry blare of a car horn from the road outside had her pause by her office window to watch a taxi driver angrily weave past a silver car that had pulled in on the double yellow line.
The driverâs door slowly opened. A tall, powerfully built man climbed out. He moved to the other side of the car. Wasnât he worried about getting a parking fine? But then, given the car he was driving, a parking fine would probably be nothing more than pocket change to him.
He came to a stop at the rear door of the car and bowed his head for the briefest of seconds before sending his gaze heavenwards. There was an aloneness, a heaviness of spirit in how he stood stock-still, his feet firmly anchored to the ground, staring upwards. The manâs lips moved briefly in speech as though he was talking to someone.
She needed to leave or sheâd be late for her talk, but she couldnât drag herself away from watching him. She moved closer to the window, placed her palm against the cool glass.
Opening the rear door, he leant into the car for a moment before reappearing with a little girl in his arms.
He kissed her forehead, tenderly smoothed her soft brown curls and attempted to place her down on the footpath. But the little girl, dressed in a yellow jacket and blue pants, and who Carly guessed was about two years of age, refused to let go.
The man shook his head and then began to pace the footpath, the little girl in his arms, glancing all the while down the street. Who was he waiting for?
