Cathy Williams - The Rich Man's Mistress

Take time out from your busy schedule this month to kick back and relax with a brand-new Harlequin Presents novel. We hope you enjoy this month’s selection.

If you love royal heroes, you’re in for a treat this month! In Penny Jordan’s latest book, The Italian Duke’s Wife, an Italian aristocrat chooses a young English woman as his convenient wife. When he unleashes within her a desire she never knew she possessed, he is soon regretting his no-consummation rule…. Emma Darcy’s sheikh in Traded to the Sheikh is an equally powerful and sexy alpha male. This story has a wonderfully exotic desert setting, too!

We have some gorgeous European men this month. Shackled by Diamonds by Julia James is part of our popular miniseries GREEK TYCOONS. Read about a Greek tycoon and the revenge he plans to exact on an innocent, beautiful model when he wrongly suspects her of stealing his priceless diamonds. In Sarah Morgan’s Public Wife, Private Mistress, can a passionate Italian’s marriage be rekindled when he is unexpectedly reunited with his estranged wife?

In The Antonides Marriage Deal by Anne McAllister, a Greek magnate meets a stunning new business partner, and he begins to wonder if he can turn their business arrangement into a permanent contract—such as marriage! Kay Thorpe’s Bought by a Billionaire tells of a Portuguese billionaire and his ex-lover. He wants her back as his mistress. Previously she rejected his proposal because of his arrogance and his powerful sexuality. But this time he wants marriage….

Happy reading! Look out for a brand-new selection next month.

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CATHY WILLIAMS was born in the West Indies and has been writing for the Harlequin Presents line for over fifteen years. She is a great believer in the power of perseverance as she had never written anything before and from the starting point of zero has now fulfilled her ambition to pursue this most enjoyable of careers. She would encourage any would-be writer to have faith and go for it!

She lives in the beautiful Warwickshire countryside with her husband and three children, Charlotte, Olivia and Emma. When not writing she is hard-pressed to find a moment’s free time in between the millions of household chores, not to mention being a one-woman taxi service for her daughters’ never-ending social lives.

She derives inspiration from the hot, lazy, tropical island of Trinidad (where she was born), from the peaceful countryside of middle England and, of course, from her many friends, who are a rich source of plots and are particularly garrulous when it comes to describing her heroes. It would seem from their complaints that tall, dark and charismatic men are too few and far between! Her hope is to continue writing romance fiction and providing those eternal tales of love for which, she feels, we all strive.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

MIRANDA paused and looked behind her, then she slowly turned a full circle. This was a big mistake because the slow beat of panic which had been curling inside her stomach for the past hour mushroomed into full-blown fear as she was forced to contemplate her complete isolation. She had no idea where she was. She had no idea where she was going. All sense of direction had been lost as she had skied rapidly away from the avalanche straight into a blizzard that was now making forward progress laborious and uncertain. And, to make matters worse, dusk was beginning to permeate the great white amphitheatre which had always seemed so gloriously free and now appeared terrifyingly hostile.

She whimpered and found that she was having to make an effort to remind herself that she was an expert skier, had been doing it for twenty-two of her twenty-five years. She could more than handle the challenge of the black runs. With the snow whipping like pellets against the parts of her face which were exposed, and restricting any clear view that might help her to get her bearings, she would have to move slowly and keep her fingers crossed that she was going in the right direction.

Anger gave way to self-pity and she skied slowly towards a small cluster of fir trees which offered the only visual relief from the naked, virgin-white landscape, barely visible now as the light continued to fade.

She was lost, alone, terrified and quite possibly on course for a date with the Grim Reaper, and all because Freddie, her so-called boyfriend, couldn’t keep his immature, wandering hands to himself. Not content with having had her there with him, he’d simply had to explore the voluptuous charm of the Italian eighteen-year-old girl who had been assigned to their chalet. And worse, had got caught doing it.

How dared he?

Miranda leaned against the trunk of a tree and closed her eyes. She had to take a few deep breaths to contain her rage or else she would scream at the top of her lungs and, with her luck, probably set off another avalanche. Her woollen hat was soaked from the snow. She should never have worn it. She should have stuck on her faithful, waterproof headgear instead of a flimsy hat simply because it matched the rest of her skiing outfit. Now she could feel the dampness permeating through to her head. As far as everything else was concerned, she was well-protected with all the requisite layers of clothing, including thick, waterproof gloves. But how long would she be able to remain stationary before the cold began sinking its teeth through the layers in search of flesh? She squinted into the dying light and dimly made out a thickish cluster of trees, a dense little patch that would be more protection for her should an overnight stay outdoors become necessary.

Miranda groaned. Why kid herself that she was miraculously going to find her way back to the chalet where Freddie and their fifteen-strong group were right now probably cracking open their first bottle and contemplating what to have for supper? Would they even have missed her? Or, if they had, would they have assumed that she was miserably lost and perilously close to despair in the middle of nowhereland? They were all first-class skiers and they would probably be unaware of the minor avalanche that had thrown her so badly off course. Doubtless Freddie would have made a story about their argument, reducing his despicable behaviour to the level of some boyish jollity that had been misconstrued by a jealous girlfriend and her absence would be put down to a minor blip. Quite possibly they would assume that she had needed to cool off and had taken herself off to one of the hotels in a huff. Her platinum credit card would have gained her entry into any of the hotels further down the slope if she felt she needed time out and they all knew that she travelled with it in her inside jacket pocket.