Ally Blake - Faking It to Making It

Nate’s sensuous mouth grew flat, his stare much the same.

“No, didn’t think so.” Saskia reached for the top button of his shirt, her hand hovering an inch from his chest. “May I?”

“May you what?”

“Ruffle you up a little.”

He breathed deep, his chest lifting till the weave of his luxurious woollen jacket brushed the hairs of her arms, creating skitters of…something all the way to her elbows.

His gaze finally left his family home to connect with hers. The tangle of blue was enough to take her breath clean away.

“Ruffle away.”

In her previous life Australian author Ally Blakewas at times a cheerleader, a maths tutor, a dental assistant and a shop assistant. In this life Ally is a bestselling multi-award-winning novelist who has been published in over twenty languages, with more than two million books sold worldwide.

She married her gorgeous husband in Las Vegas—no Elvis in sight, although Tony Curtis did put in a special appearance—and now Ally and her family, including three rambunctious toddlers, share a property in the leafy western suburbs of Brisbane, with kookaburras, cockatoos, rainbow lorikeets and the occasional creepy-crawly. When not writing she makes coffees that never get drunk, eats too many M&Ms, attempts yoga, devours The West Wing reruns, reads every spare minute she can, and barracks ardently for the Collingwood Magpies footy team.

You can find out more at her website www.allyblake.com

Recent titles by the same author:

THE SECRET WEDDING DRESS

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

THE WEDDING DATE

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Ally Blake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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When the hero in this book, Nate Mackenzie, first appeared on the page in my last book, THE SECRET WEDDING DRESS, he was such a doll. Such a charming, industrious, energetic foil for that hero—big, bad Gabe Hamilton.

The more I got to know him, the greater my crush on the guy grew. So handsome, so funny, so strong, so resolute. And did I mention handsome? So when an idea sprang to mind about Saskia Bloom, a hopeful, helpful, sweet, bossy, left-of-centre statistician researching a piece on online dating, I thought, Who better to throw in her unsuspecting path than my darling Nate?

I just love having a vehicle for stories like this—joyful, warm, wacky, fresh, touching, cheeky…and hot, hot, hot . And I can’t wait to sit down and meet my next lucky couple, who are currently tootling along, thinking life’s just dandy, until— WHAM! I do so love my job.

For more about my books swing by my website at www.allyblake.com

Till then, happy reading!

Ally

For team Arabella Rose.

Josh, Laura, Cat, David, Sam, Kristy,

Liz, Emma & Gemma.

It was an honour and a trip, with extra sauce!

SASKIA BLOOM FICKED her dark fringe out of her eyes and peered through her vintage glasses at her laptop screen before madly scribbling notes on the yellow legal pad under the mouse.

“I’ll eat my shoes if you’re even a day under forty,” she mumbled at the photo of a guy grinning inanely back at her from the Dating By Numbers website.

Undeterred, StudMuffin33 kept on smiling, as if the dauntingly athletic profile was so appealing any woman would let the age-fib slip.

Favourite Movie: The Fast and the Furious

Collects: surfboards

Who’d Play You in the Movie of Your Life? Jason Statham Looking for: an open-minded lady with a twinkle in her eye

Good lord.

Mouse hover and click .

The photo of the next guy gave her such a fright she flinched. BirdLover28 had tufty hair, wore a grimace rather than a smile and had a chicken on his shoulder. A live one, she hoped.

Favourite TV Show: Dr Who (the original!)

Sundays are for: garage sales

Celebrity Crush: Tyra Banks

Looking for: fun in all the wrong places

Alas, Saskia would not be partaking of said fun. For, even though it had been several months since she’d been booted back into the dating pool, she wasn’t online looking for The One. Or a “Saturday night special” as one possibility had so gallantly offered.

Her account with Dating By Numbers was research, pure and simple. She and her business partner, Lissy—together known as SassyStats—had been hired by the site to collate a fun statistical analysis of online dating. In order to do the best job possible, she’d jumped from an aeroplane for a piece on adrenalin junkies. Dived with sharks for a study on phobias. In comparison, creating a dating profile was cushy.

Saskia lifted her booted foot to the chair, wrapped an arm around her woolly-tights-clad knee, and, chewing on the end of a pen, shook her head at the dozen more possibilities in her inbox.

Research or not, it was actually pretty flattering.

With her wavy brown hair, her mother’s olive skin, eyes that were kind of brown and a lean frame that puberty had pretty much ignored, under the right lighting, with humidity low, she could just about pull off cute. The idea that so many guys had considered her for a follow up email was a marvel.

If she’d known this was the response she’d get, she’d have signed up long ago! She’d met Stu in a pub , and look how that had turned out.

There he’d sat hunched in his old coat, looking so dark and mysterious, with pen smudges on his fingertips. He’d looked as if he’d needed a warm meal and a hug. Turned out he’d needed her mobile phone, her TV, her computers, her appliances and more. In recompense he’d left a nasty note, a huge debt and his dog.

Saskia glanced over at Ernest, the big wiry Airedale currently lying on his back, legs in the air, snoring on the dinky old armchair in the corner of her office.

With a sigh, she slid her feet back to the floor and shifted the legal pad an inch. She and Ernest might have discovered a bona fide fondness for one another, but she’d never get used to the angry red envelopes that fell through her mail-slot on a weekly basis. Never wanted to. The only way to make them go away was to work. And work some more. And then, when night fell and her bed was beckoning, get back to work.

Mouse hover and click .

Saskia lifted her hand off the mouse, ready to take notes on the next candidate, but at the sight of him her hand wobbled pointlessly in midair.

She might, in fact, have gasped at the sight, because Ernest suddenly snorted, his legs twitching like an up-ended spider, before settling back into a dream-filled sleep.