Mollie Mathews's Blog, page 11

December 19, 2023

Christmas Romance and The Italian Billionaire’s Christmas Bride—The Inspiration Behind the Story

Dear friends,

Uncover the inspirational story behind The Italian Billionaire’s Christmas Bride: from a fashion tycoon regretting life decisions to finding a second chance at love.

The idea for this Christmas romance novel was sparked when I read about a very successful Italian fashion-tycoon who said, ‘My biggest regret is that I gave my life to my job.’ It struck me as very, very sad.

I wondered why he had chosen to live his life this way. Despite all his wealth, all his mansions around the world, and all the ‘fans’ who adored him for the identity he had carefully cultivated, he loved no one and no one loved him back for who he truly was.

Although he never said it outright, he’d thrown himself into his work following the death of his life partner. His work was pure escapism—protecting him from feeling the pain of loss again.

He’d originally trained as a medic but after experiencing the horrors of war, he sought refuge in a fantasy world.

As a child, he’d loved the glitz and glamor Hollywood offered. After a brief stint in the war where he witnessed the deaths of friends, he found an escape from the harshness of reality returning to the fantasy of Hollywood

I wondered what sort of woman would be able to touch this frozen man at the deepest level. Everything in his life was controlled measured, predictably precise. I wondered what if the darkness of the past, his unhealed wounds began to impact his work, stifling his creativity and threatening to destroy everything he had fought so hard to achieve.

I wondered what if, as part of his recovery, he was forced to spend time with a woman so opposite in every way to the order he imposed in his life. And what if this woman was a children’s art therapist. A woman unimpressed by the fame and fortune he’d amassed, but who believed strongly in the power of play, fun, and spontaneity—things he considered reckless

What if this woman had the power to transform his life, and he hers—but they were both afraid. Hearts have been broken, love lost, trust betrayed. What if this woman had her own wounds? Don’t we all?

What would it take to make all the masks fall? To be vulnerable? To risk it all? What would it take, in spite of the fear, to believe you deserve, you want, you need to give love a second chance?

You’ll discover the answers in The Italian Billionaire’s Christmas Bride. I hope you love this story as much as I loved writing it. Here’s a free EXCERPT:

CHAPTER ONE

‘Che cavolo! No! No! No! This will not do. Only an anorexic model could wear something that resembles a straw,’ thundered Massimilliano Balforni, CEO of Emporio Balforni, Milan’s most prestigious fashion house. His coal-black brows knitted in a fierce line as he looked with disdain at the scatter of sketches the young designer splayed on Max’s 15th Century walnut desk.

His protégé began to protest but one piercing look from the maestro forced his lips shut. His body stiffened as if frozen to the floor, reminded that his employer’s wrath was more dangerous than black ice

‘Alexandria Gorbetz is a real woman, the world’s richest woman, and someone like me that demands perfection.’

Max’s mouth curved in a controlled smile. Was that fear he detected in the young man’s face as Max pierced him with his dark gaze? He had every reason to be afraid. Enemies and friends alike knew Max had destroyed promising careers for lesser transgressions. Infinitesimal precision, extraordinary control, unrivaled beauty—Max suffered nothing less.

Pressing his fingertips to the smooth, cool parchment, he paused momentarily as a childhood memory stirred in his consciousness. He sucked in a breath and swept his hands brusquely across the page. He was no longer the lonely child who furtively sketched movie stars in beautiful clothes and dreamed of a Hollywood life.

What was once an escape was now a thriving commercial enterprise with insatiable demands. Max flourished his gold fountain pen across the page, adding a sweep of curves to the hips and breasts of the bespoke wedding gown his fashion house had been commissioned to design.

Now at the helm of his multi-billion dollar empire, Max was no longer a hands-on designer, but nothing went out the door without his final veto. Some called him a control freak and this he took not as a criticism but as the highest compliment.

He waited to feel the rush of joy he used to feel when drawing as a child. He stopped to await the all-consuming love that arose from knowing that no one possessed his raw talent and genius. He paused to feel the pride that came years later from knowing he designed dresses perfectly, to satisfy only one client on her most important day. There was nothing.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. He had long ago accepted that he was unable to feel the joy that other people did. He’d turned off that part of himself years ago and had vowed never again to succumb to vulnerability. In its place, carefully groomed aloofness and instilling fear in others were traits he prized and relentlessly cultivated.

As his protégé braced for the consequences Max forced his thoughts back to the commission. While he felt nothing in his heart, what he did experience as he looked at the drawing of the wedding dress executed to his design was a coolly detached appreciation that satisfied the perfectionist in him.

The lines and structure now conformed absolutely to his definition of ideal. The controlled steel gray pallet reflected his personality and every detailed aspect had been meticulously executed as he had commanded. No randomness or chaos anywhere.

Having witnessed his parents’ brutal marriage and subsequent divorce, Max had no misguided notions of happily-ever-after, nor any desire to marry.

Perfection in relationships was simply unattainable. But the knowledge that he was at the helm of an empire that created exquisite, extraordinarily elegant gowns admired by the world’s most elite, at the same time preserving a historic tradition, filled him with a degree of pride.

But as for the rest of his life—the personal, emotional side—he felt nothing. And that suited him perfectly.

Max’s long supple fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the armrest of his chair. ‘Allora?’ Well? People react to fear, not love, he reminded himself as he kept his voice soft, but somehow containing all the might of the towering spires of the Duomo looming beyond his window.

A slither of fear crept into the young designer’s hushed apology. ‘I should have thought more about the woman beneath the dress.’

‘Thinking is not enough,’ Max commanded, his voice a dark, stark thing in the quiet of his office. ‘You must apply.’ Taking the drawings in both hands he tore the pages down the middle. ‘Begin again, and this time bring me excellence.’

Ignoring the tiny pin like tremors piercing his chest Max pushed back from the desk and rose to his feet as the young man retrieved the torn fragments and scuttled quickly toward the door. Striding across the room Max willed his racing heart to cede to his control.

CHAPTER TWO

‘Calm yourself, please Maxie,’ Sophia Balforni said, sweeping into his office she cast the young man a sympathetic look as their paths crossed. ‘Have you thought about what I suggested?’ she asked, gesturing to the art therapy brochure peeking from beneath a pile of contracts.

‘I am surrounded by amateurs and now you want me to play like a child, mia sorella. I have never heard something so ridiculous.’

‘You’re my brother. The best brother in the world, but do you know what’s holding you back? You’re afraid of losing control. You’re afraid that without all of this, she said, sweeping her hand around the room, ‘you’re worthless.’

‘But all of this means nothing if you’re dead. And none of this means anything without someone to share your heart and soul. I hope one day you’re able to realize that you’re wonderful for who you are, not just for what you’ve accomplished. But most of all I hope you’re able to experience the unconditional love and support of someone who loves you for you.’

Max was neither given to excessive emotion nor impetuousness but his mood wrestled with his need for control. He threw open the shuttered windows of his office and inhaled the frigid Milano air with shallow, measured breaths.

He ran his hand over his broad chest, fingering momentarily the fine scar snaking across his heart. His mind had the endurance and stamina of one thousand oxen but two months ago his body had betrayed him.

His gaze swept down the Piazza then flew up the spires of the Duomo, dusted with snow and bejeweled in dazzling pre-Christmas lights as the cacophony of Vespas buzzed like irritated wasps through the open window.

Although he had always hated Christmas, he loved tradition and he loved the supreme elegance that the Milanese never failed to deliver, but it pained him to concede that never had his beloved city been so irritating. In fact, everything, and everyone was irritating. Even his designs bored him. He knew better than most that he must continually innovate or die. Grudgingly he accepted his sister was right. He needed to get away.

‘I admit it’s a little unconventional,’ Sophia said, taking an assortment of pills and vitamins from a gold embossed pillbox and, after pouring a glass of mineral water into a crystal tumbler, she passed the pills and water to Max.

‘Unconventional?’ Max tossed the pills into his mouth, took a gulp of water and threw back his head, grimacing as they slid down his throat. ‘What you are suggesting is childish.’ Childish, isn’t that exactly what his father had thrown in his face when, as a young boy, he’d first shown him his sketches. ‘If this got out to my competitors,’ he said, forcing his mind from a memory he vowed never to revisit, ‘can you imagine what it would do to my reputation?’

‘Not nearly as damaging as being paralyzed by a stroke and having to be spoon-fed, Sophia snapped. ‘And since when have you cared what others think? Besides, you have an island on the other side of the world.

‘One which you’ve been too busy to visit. Fiji is remote enough for you to step away from the constant flash of cameras and be virtually anonymous,’ she said, lowering her voice as Max’s new PA cat-walked into his office. ‘Call yourself Mr. Johnstone, or Mr. Smith, or whatever else you want, to protect your privacy.’

Beneath long-fringed lashes the PA gave Max a sultry look, trailing her gaze over his lean and muscled form, as she placed a collection of fashion magazines and media cuttings in a neat pile precisely as she’d been trained.

‘Thank you, that will be all,’ Sophia said, dismissing her.

‘A nudist camp would be vastly more appealing,’ Max’s gaze trailed after his PA as she left his office. While he had no time for relationships, that didn’t stop him from appreciating beauty. How much easier it would be to lie naked amongst a bevy of loveliness than expose his feelings to the spotlight.

Sophia rolled her eyes. ‘I can just imagine what that would do to your blood pressure. Art, unlike making a career of intimately studying the curves of women, my dear brother, is therapeutic.’

‘So you want me to go to kiddy school and make a fool of myself.’ Irritation coursed through his veins as he ran his fingers around the neck of his shirt and loosened the starched white collar.

‘You never had a childhood,’ Sophia said, her voice almost a whisper. ‘You grew up too fast. We both did. And now you’re a thirty-five-year-old man who may not see forty.’

‘I know you are trying to help but I told you I can handle it.’ And he would. He would never abandon his responsibility. Unlike his father who had tried to combine work with marriage and failed at both, Max had gladly sacrificed his personal life for his career.

Abandoned at birth by his biological parents, raised briefly by strangers, then dumped in a boarding school, he had turned what could have been a weakness into his biggest strength.

Self-reliance.

‘All this stress has engulfed you, Max. Only you can’t see it. And it scares me. You’ve become a shell of yourself—more than you were already. A man so cut off from his feelings that you are devoid of emotion. You’ve become a lighthouse of a man—lonely in a crowd, aloof and detached. Uncaring.’

The words bounced off Max’s chest like the final shards of Milan’s winter sun reflecting off the panoramic glass windows. It was true. He no longer cared.

‘What do you want from me, Sophia?’

She paused, concern pooling in her dark eyes. ‘I want what our mother wants. I want you to be happy.’

His lips curved into a tight mocking smile. When had his real mother ever cared about his happiness? He knew what she really wanted. After suddenly reappearing in his life, she wanted a daughter-in-law and she wanted a grandson. Max shook his head and gave a short exacerbated sigh. She wanted the impossible.

He plunged his hand through his hair, raking it back from his brow. He should have had it cut razor short last week. Instead, he’d thrown himself into the rollout of his retail network of 60 Massimilliano Balforni boutiques and jewelry stores throughout China, and the pending development of his luxury hotel in Dubai, with such single-minded, unrelenting focus there had been no time for indulgences.

‘I’ve done my research,’ he said, adding his signed consent to the final contracts, ‘and from every angle it all seems based on spurious psychology.’ His hand closed around the pen as he looked up sharply.

Sophia sucked her breath as though steeling herself to battle with his formidable will. ‘Unless you make some changes, and I mean massive changes,’ Sophia glanced momentarily in the direction of Cimitero Maggiore, Milan’s largest cemetery, then fixed Max with a penetrating gaze, ‘you’ll end up like our father. Morte.’

‘That will not happen to me,’ he said, balling his fingers into a fist. ‘I am nothing like our father.’

‘No, you’re not. You are loyal, honest and immensely generous to the people you care about—nothing like our father. But you are an unrelenting workaholic like he was. No better than an addict, because despite all your willpower, all your determination, all your talent, all your wealth you can’t stop working. My God, you even live above your office.’

‘Mia sorella, even if I wanted to go finger painting, which I do not, there is no way I can get away. People need me. I cannot just walk away without everything collapsing.’

‘Even geniuses need time out to replenish. Super-heroes too,’ she laughed. ‘You, Clark Kent, need a rest from being Superman, a week out of this world. Not eternity. I will take care of things until you’re back.’

The blood vessel in his temple pulsed, whether out of conviction or rebellion he didn’t know, but her suggestion was not without merit. His sister had proven herself capable in so many ways since her appointment to Director of Public Relations.

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers against his lips as he savored a compelling idea. What if he could achieve several goals by leaving Italy? While he did not believe in fate, he did believe in destiny. Was it not destiny after all that had led him to this career, launching him from male model to CEO of a multi-billion dollar empire?

Max began to wonder if his recent conversation with some Fijian silk merchants was also pre-destined. Until that meeting he hadn’t known there was such a large population of Indians in Fiji, and he’d been intrigued by the innovative textile developments they had shared with him.

And he could maximize efficiencies by going undercover and checking out his hotel chain in the Pacific. Yes, he thought, warming to the idea, perhaps a change of scene, getting away from all things European might just revive his flagging spirits.

His creativity was blocked, young designers were licking at his heels. He needed to continually innovate, but nothing inspired him. The plan was worth considering after all. Nothing else had worked. Plus it would get Sophia off his case. And the art therapy gimmick she was so convinced he needed?

What could any dowdy art therapist do to him that he couldn’t control? The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Bride ebook, audio and print

Buy this book through the links below…

To enjoy your copy from Amazon, click here>> getBook.at/ChristmasBride

To enjoy your copy from iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores, click here>>https://books2read.com/u/3LpDa7

To enjoy your copy from Kobo>>https://www.kobo.com/ebook/the-italian-billionaire-s-christmas-bride

AUDIOBOOK

KOBO

https://www.kobo.com/en/audiobook/italian-billionaire-s-christmas-bride-the

AUDIBLE

https://www.audible.com/pd/The-Italian-Billionaires-Christmas-Bride-Audiobook/B08QW1TWYP

https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/The-Italian-Billionaires-Christmas-Bride-Audiobook/B08QW1ZW7L

https://www.audible.com.au/pd/The-Italian-Billionaires-Christmas-Bride-Audiobook/B08QW3NL2Y

The audio version of this book is also available from all online bookstores and also libraries

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Published on December 19, 2023 05:44

December 13, 2023

2023 in review—fun, love and gladness

This is a fun way to end the year

A fun ritual I’ve recently started is beginning the day with a one-word intention. Words hold vibrations. Some words lift us higher, and some lower us. Words guide us, and words deliver the things we want in our lives (or not…depending on whether you’re using word wands or wielding swords. The way you flourish your words affects how or if you manifest your desires.

Choosing one particular word for the day (or year) sets a powerful intention and reminder of the vibration you intend to bring in or maintain. My partner gave me a word today: Reflection. I thought it would be fun to reflect back on 2023. I hope you enjoy some of these memories of my most wonderful moments.

my most wonderful moments

Love in Venice: A Triumph of Romance & Joy

I was so thrilled when Love in Venice placed third in the Koru awards. I do so love this story and as I share in the author’s notes, much of this story is from personal encounters with wonderful Italian people in Venice.

I hope you enjoy this article, which shares how placing third in the prestigious Koru Awards for my novella Love in Venice was a triumph of love and joy.

Love in Venice was born out of my personal experiences, my love for travel, and my deep appreciation for the power of love and self-discovery. Venice, with its picturesque canals, stunning architecture, and rich history, provided the perfect backdrop her this enchanting tale.

Here is a little more about this love-inspired story:

One summer could change everything. . .

When two hopelessly mismatched people share a love for art, a passion for love and a city like Venice, nothing is truly impossible…or is it?

Maggie’s life isn’t going like she planned. When toxic stress levels force dramatic changes, she grabs a chance at a fresh start. But her holiday in Venice begins with disaster—she finds herself rescued by a tall, dark, impossibly wealthy Italian man named Mauro.

The two are completely unlike—Maggie leads by her head, and Mauro listens to his heart. While each has compelling reasons to stay apart, the magic of art and beauty of Venice brings them together.

Maggie has to stay longer than she intended! And the trouble is, love is everywhere. . .

If you love feel-good, sensual contemporary romances set in beautiful love-infused settings, then you’ll love Maggie and Mauro’s story!

P.S. Fans of Sarah Morgan and Danielle Steel will love this feel-good romance!

PRAISE FOR LOVE IN VENICE

I loved this story!

“I loved this story! Love In Venice leans toward the heart. Where love is the main character. Where you cheer for their relationship to flourish.”

~ Jan Z.

a beautiful romantic love story

“A beautiful romantic love story with vivid characters, incredible world-building, and about finding love when you least expect it; really, who could ask for more? Do yourself a favour and read this book.”

~ Lynn

a warmly romantic story

“Love In Venice is a warmly romantic story. I loved that their hearts seemed to speak to each other almost from their first meeting. I love that we get to see how their lives unfold and their beautiful love for each other. The story has a wonderful flow and beautiful and vivid descriptions. I could envision myself in Venice – seeing the canal, the cobblestoned streets, the architecture and more. There are family, friends, and lots of heart-to-heart moments between Maggie and Mauro. There is sadness and tears, euphoria, romance and love. There is also art brought in – music and painting that touched their souls and mine. There is a happily ever after that was portrayed better than I hoped. The epilogue adds an additional layer to the story and briefly brings in characters we’ve met in other books. Ms Mathews is an author whose books I enjoy. She always transports me to someplace new with a cast of characters I grow to love. Give her books a try if you haven’t already!”

~ JoAnne W.

Buy this book through the links below…

To enjoy your copy in ebook or paperback from Amazon, click here:

To enjoy your copy from Apple, Barnes and Noble, Nook, and other great bookstores, click here:

To enjoy your copy from Kobo, click here:

AUDIO

KOBO

https://www.kobo.com/us/audiobook/love-in-venice-1

The audio version is also available from other online retailers and libraries for your listening pleasure.

AUDIBLE

US: https://www.audible.com/pd/Love-in-Venice-Audiobook/B0BBH8S35L

UK: https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Love-in-Venice-Audiobook/B0BBHCNBW6

AU: https://www.audible.com.au/pd/Love-in-Venice-Audiobook/B0BBH927T6

LOVE IN VENICE
“There is sadness and tears along with euphoria, loving romance and love. There is also art brought in – both music and painting that touched their souls as well as mine. “

3rd place winner the 2023 Koru Awards for best romance

https://mybook.to/LoveInVenice

Love In Venice

PRECIOUS PREQUELS

This year, I experimented with releasing prequels of some of my favourite stories. The aim was to give new readers a tantalising taster, and a chance to sample romance novels they may not normally read. As one reviewer wrote to me:

“I don’t usually read sheikh stories. This one was so good, I’m going to read more.”

Claimed By The Sheikh (prequel) (Sheikhs Untamed Brides)

CLAIMED BY THE SHEIKH (prequel)

A Sheikh Secret Baby Romance

To enjoy your copy from Amazon:

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CKYLMQ9T

CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0CKYLMQ9T

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CKYLMQ9T

AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B0CKYLMQ9T

To enjoy your copy from iBooks, Kobo: Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores: https://books2read.com/u/47dnZq

STOLEN BY THE SHEIKH (prequel)

ENJOY THIS PREQUEL FOR FREE>>SOMETHING DIFFERENT…

FRAGILE BEAUTY (PREQUEL)

Talented artist Joy Fairweather’s life is about to change forever. On the anniversary of her mother’s death, memories of her traumatic life pool in her mind. The revelation of a monstrous family secret sees Joy determined to make a fresh start in the seductive world of international art. Compelled to rewrite her family history, she struggles to fulfil her quest. Can she navigate the dizzying temptation, deceit, danger and betrayal while staying true to what she knows is right?

Author’s note

I hope you enjoy the seeds of a new story conceived two weeks after my mother’s death, in 2022, in memory of her life and legacy.

My grandmother Molly was a wonderful Irish lady. She was very beautiful and had so many artistic gifts. She could paint, crochet, knit, and play many musical instruments—the piano, the accordion, and so much more. She was a talented singer too.

My grandmother didn’t share much of her early life with us. She kept all the pain locked inside. When my mother died, she left a handwritten note for me and my other siblings, telling a little bit more of her childhood and the love between her mother, Molly and her father, Reg. This letter became the seed of this story.

As I wrote this book, a year had passed since my mother died, and it was the 5th of September, which would have been Molly’s Birthday. I thought it would be a poignant time to release the prequel to this story.

AMAZON

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CH9D2BLQ

CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0CH9D2BLQ

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CH9D2BLQ

AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B0CH9D2BLQ

Christmas For One: Christmas RomCom Romance Novel Christmas-For-One-review-Glued-to-the-pages-

It was fun to re-release Sex With Strangers, as Christmas for One with new chapters and a fun new cover.

PRAISE FOR THIS STORY

festive frolicking, seasonal cheer and holiday magic

“Mollie delivers with this artfully compelling, skillfully enthralling rollercoaster. Divvying out some festive frolicking, seasonal cheer and holiday magic.”

~ Kaye Gunter

I was glued to the pages from start to finish with this feel-good story

“I absolutely loved this awesome book. Ruby’s life coach is an interesting character, I loved what she came up with to help Ruby out. Ruby turned it all into her own, and I loved what she did to help herself. This book has some laugh-out-loud moments, I loved every one of them. The characters are likeable and so full of life, even when things seem down, they turn it into their favor. I was glued to the pages from start to finish with this feel-good story.”

~ Loreli

I loved everything about this book, especially the humour

“I absolutely enjoyed this story. I loved the storyline, I loved the characters, I loved the humour. I couldn’t put it down. The descriptions were perfect.I loved everything about this book, especially the humour. It was funny, sad at times, and I loved it.”

~ Patricia Quinn

funny, laugh out loud, and a delight to read

“My second Mollie Mathews book and definitely not the last ….funny, laugh out loud, and a delight to read …..am looking out for the movie or maybe Netflix series ……felt like a letter from a close girlfriend.”

~ Jo Oxford

a one-of-a-kind full range of emotion book if you have ever gone through a divorce

“This is a one-of-a-kind full range of emotion book that if you have ever gone through a divorce and had a wonderfully supportive but definitely zany friend to get you through it all, you will relate to much of what Ms. Mathews has Ruby experience! There were times I laughed, times I cried, and other times I was cheerleader number one for Ruby to get her mojo on and take back her life! I absolutely loved all the in-her-head comments that Ruby would have whenever Chanel would throw out one of her wacky life-coach do’s and don’ts! Priceless!! A very good book.”

~ Anita Fuhrmann

Mollie is just such a good writer

“I really enjoy Mollie’s style of writing – it’s in the 21st century and relates to every woman who has been trashed by a bloke. The abandonment issues experienced by Max are also so relevant to our current world, so many have been emotionally stunted or abandoned. This is a story that resonates with me and I could not put it down. Mollie is just such a good writer with enormous appeal in her story – an excellent read on a rainy day.”

~ Rae Waterhouse

gives me hope that I will meet my Prince

“Beautiful. Resonated in my soul, gives me hope that I will meet my Prince one day and he will love me for who I am.”

~ Amazon Review

a gorgeous escapist read

“A gorgeous escapist read. I will definitely be looking out for other books by this author. Recommended.”

~ Amazon Review

Buy this book through the links below…

To enjoy your copy from Amazon:

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CMGSZ95G

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CMGSZ95G

Universal link: https://mybook.to/ChristmasForOne

To enjoy your copy from Apple, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, and other great bookstores: https://books2read.com/u/bQg2eP

US or British Accent?

A few reviewers of the audiobooks written and narrated by me have said they found my New Zealand accent distracting. I thought, given that the majority of my readers are based in America and the UK, it would be fun to try a different narrator. I’d love to know if you have a preference.

FUN! FUN! FUN! ON YOUTUBE AND TIKTOK!

I’ve been experimenting and having fun with Youtube and Tiktok.

Follow me on TikTok www.tiktok.com/@mollliewritesromance

Subscribe to my Youtube channel for free excepts, book trailers and more https://www.youtube.com/@molliemathews7074

BOOK TRAILER LOVE IN VENICE

When two hopelessly mismatched people share a love for art, a passion for love and a city like Venice, nothing is truly impossible…or is it?

FREE AUDIO CHAPTER LOVE IN VENICE

I hope you enjoy this free audio chapter from my award-winning romance: Love in Venice

I can’t think of a better way to end the year than my upcoming children’s art retreat on December 16. What fun to play like a child with 7 children, all best friends, in my studio. I am sooooo excited. It’s going to be amazing.

If you’ve been following me for a while now, you’ll know that as well as writing award-winning love stories, I am an award-winning contemporary artist. Many of my stories have art-related themes… with the healing power and connectiveness of creativity at the core. I’m looking forward to sharing the love for a day of imaginative play. ❤️‍🩹

(I created a fun short video, you can view here: https://youtube.com/shorts/j9kGwjqQfoc?feature=share

As I write this post, there are still a few weeks left until the end of the year. I’m aiming to have the second book in the Sheikh’s Untamed Brides series, Stolen By The Sheikh, ready for release. Wish me luck!

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Published on December 13, 2023 17:13

August 8, 2020

The Resilience of Beauty: Escapism at its best

Dear readers,

If you’ve read my art-inspired romances you’ll know that it’s so important to use our heart as a compass and follow the invisible trail of what lights us up.

Along with writing love stories. I love to paint. This a new work I completed yesterday. It is called “Te Ataroa” and named after the beautiful baby born three months ago to a very proud Maori couple. They had lost a little girl earlier who passed before she could be held in their arms. Te Ataroa is an added blessing. Translated her name means “the long morning”. Spring is nearly here in the Bay of Islands and the mornings are getting longer and they are nearly as beautiful as that wee baby

900 mm x 1200mm Acrylic on canvas

My ideas, whether a painting or a story start with a character or an event, either a theme that intrigues me or sometimes a news event that captures me. Claimed by The Sheikh, was inspired by the tragedy that took the lives of former New Zealand All Black Legend Jerry Collins and his Canadian partner Alana Madill in France. The crash happened at 3:10am along the highway near Béziers on the way to the city of Montpellier. They died instantly, and their baby daughter was taken to Montpellier hospital in a critical condition.

I cried such tears thinking of that baby being left an orphan. It really worried me that she would be left in the world with no parents to love and care for her. So I wondered—what if her parents weren’t really dead. What if the two people that died were the baby’s adoptive parents, and what if her biological parents were very much alive.

And then, as writers are want to do, I thought what if the biological father was an extraordinarily wealthy sheikh who was unaware that he had fathered a child.

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To enjoy your copy of Claimed by the Sheikh from Amazon, click here>>http://getbook.at/ClaimedByTheSheikh

To enjoy your copy from iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores, click here>>

https://books2read.com/u/brVjdZ

To enjoy your copy from Kobo, click here>>https://www.kobo.com/ebook/claimed-by-the-sheikh-8

AUDIOBOOK

KOBO

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/audiobook/claimed-by-the-sheikh-9

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I’ve always believed in magic. So, it seemed natural, after the still-birth of my sister Sophie’s and her husband’s first son, and as Sophie continued the struggle to conceive naturally, IVF having failed, that I wrote a prayer. I buried my wish beneath the ancient walnut tree in the middle of a beautiful vineyard, in Marlborough, New Zealand—tucked inside a walnut.

As I wrote in Love Me Forever, “As she gazed down at the note she thought with satisfaction that the wish looked like twins lying nestled in their crib.”

And that’s virtually what happened. Several years later, Freya, appropriately named after the Norse goddess of love, was born. Quickly followed by her brother Finlay, meaning ‘fair hero.’ A better name couldn’t be had!

To enjoy your copy from Amazon: viewBook.at/LoveMeForever

To enjoy your copy from iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores: https://books2read.com/u/4EkWqE

To enjoy your copy from Kobo:

https://www.kobo.com/ebook/love-me-forever-25

AUDIOBOOK

To enjoy your audiobook from Audible:

US: https://www.audible.com/pd/Love-Me-Forever-Audiobook/B081QRGJV8

UK: https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Love-Me-Forever-Audiobook/B081QQVRV4

AU: https://www.audible.com.au/pd/Love-Me-Forever-Audiobook/B081QQW4N8

Audiobooks are also available from other online retailers and libraries for your listening pleasure

The other books in this series are part of a special two-book bundle that I have narrated as an audiobook, Passion Down Under Sassy Short Stories 2 Book-Bundle Box Set: Love Me Forever and Twist of Fate

Here’s the blurb

“You’re the one” —honest love in exotic locations.

Grab these sweet and sensual escapist reads today. Lose yourself in these beautiful stories of broken hearts and second chances.

Passion Down Under Sassy Short Stories contains the first two books of AMAZON BEST-SELLING author Mollie Mathew’s romantic series set in the captivatingly beautiful landscape of New Zealand. If you adore beautifully written stories and true heart-warming sweet romances which sparkle with humour you’ll love travelling along the road to love with these changing and evolving men and women as they open their heart’s again and find true love.

The first two Sassy Short Story books (over 500 pages) included in this bundle are: Love Me Forever and Twist of Fate

Love me Forever

What if the end was just the beginning?

Viticulturist Joey Harper’s organic vineyard is under siege from neighbouring landowners with chemical sprays, wanting to turn a fast profit, and someone purchasing large tracts of land under incredible secrecy.

But Joey’s not someone who dwells on her own troubles. She has only one wish—following the still-birth of her sister’s first child, she prays her much loved younger sister may conceive again.

Using her inherited gift for magic, she enlists the aid of the ancient walnut tree which towers majestically over her organic vineyard. What she doesn’t realise is that her one wish, begets another, and her unselfish desire for her sister’s happiness send’s love to her—in the form of a most unsuitable and irresistible admirer.

Venetian winemaking tycoon Tomasso Rivetti has it all: a loving family, good looks, and a considerable fortune. When he ventures Down Under to New Zealand, underneath his apparently perfect world, cracks begin to appear…and no one is more surprised than Tomasso when the billionaire lifestyle he takes for granted is turned upside down by a chance encounter.

But despite Tomasso’s determined pursuit of Joey’s affection, her broken heart remains closed—to protect herself and her vineyard from a terrible threat.

Distance keeps her safe. But as a final battle draws close, Joey and Tomasso are drawn irresistibly together. And while they succumb to the heat between them, they both know there can be no tomorrow…

If you enjoy stories with a touch of magic and fantasy and with that so important happy ending, you’ll love this powerful new love story.

‘Tugs at the heartstrings’

‘I love Mollie Mathews’

‘Heart-warming and beautiful with passion’

‘Love Me Forever has a lovely mystical feel about it, with deep longings being experienced by the characters.’

Twist of Fate

What if a twist of fate could change your life? What if a twist of fate could change your life?

Still reeling following his unexpected divorce, billionaire Tech guru Jonathan James has returned home feeling disillusioned and low in spirits. The last thing he needs when he flies home from London to New Zealand is complications.

When a baggage mix up leaves him with nothing but a suitcase full of stilettos, lush lashes, and Dolly Parton-like wigs, he goes in search of the owner. He quickly discovers that all is not as it seems as his life takes off in a hilarious and unexpected direction.

A Twist of Fate is a short story, clean romance, full of quirky humour and the promise of romance. A fun, quick read!

To enjoy the ebook version of Passion Down Under Sassy Short Stories 2 Book-Bundle Box Set: Love Me Forever and Twist of Fate from Amazon: getbook.at/2SassyShortStories

To enjoy your copy from Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/passion-down-under-sassy-short-stories-2-book-bundle-box-set-love-me-forever-and-twist-of-fate-1

AUDIOBOOK

KOBO

To enjoy your audiobook from Kobo:

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/audiobook/passion-down-under-sassy-short-stories-2-book-bundle-box-set

AUDIBLE

COMING SOON!

Audiobooks are also available from other online retailers and libraries for your listening pleasure

View more on Mollie Mathews's website »

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Published on August 08, 2020 18:33

July 21, 2020

Presidential Nominees Rarely Speak To Muslim Audiences… guess who did

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Dear readers,

I was thrilled to read that 2020 US presidential candidate Joe Biden shares my commitment to peace and ending crimes of racial hatred. The following is an excerpt from a news article:

“On Monday, Biden focused on Islamophobia, Trump, the need for both Palestinians and Israelis to have a state of their own, and the contributions of Muslims in fighting the coronavirus pandemic. He didn’t mention terrorism or Islamic extremism.

“One of the things that I think is important: I wish, I wish we taught more in our schools about the Islamic faith,” Biden said. “What people don’t realize is … we all come from the same root here, in terms of our fundamental basic beliefs.”‘

You can read the full article here: https://www.npr.org/2020/07/20/893066503/presidential-nominees-rarely-speak-to-muslim-audiences-biden-did-monday

It’s a sentiment I share in Claimed by the Sheikh, inspired by the work and life of the pioneering elegance of Zaha Hadid. The photo above is a detail of downtown Miami’s One Thousand Museum tower by Zaha Hadid Architects. Isn’t the reference to Islamic design beautiful? Photo by Hufton + Crow.

That’s what beautiful is…not wars as Donald Trump claims. Ask anyone who has lost a son, a daughter, a loved one.

As I shared in the Author’s Note:

This book was inspired by the sassy brilliance of Dame Zaha Hadid. (DBE RA) She was an Iraqi-British architect and the first woman to receive the Pritzker Architecture Prize, in 2004. Tragically her life, her love, and her brilliance was cut short when she was in the prime of her career, aged 65. Her beautiful, innovative, pioneering architecture always inspired me, as it has countless other people. Hers was not an easy journey.

She once said, “If architecture doesn’t kill you you’re no good.”

She was beyond good―and architecture did kill her. She never married and she never had children. And she was always battling the architectural paternity for validation and acceptance. Despite her career success, her life struck me as very lonely and sad.

Claimed by the Sheikh was also inspired by the tragedy in 2015 that took the lives of former New Zealand All Black legend Jerry Collins and his Canadian partner Alana Madill in France.

The crash happened at 3:10am along the highway near Béziers on the way to the city of Montpellier. They died instantly, and their baby daughter was taken to Montpellier hospital in a critical condition.

I cried such tears thinking of that baby being left an orphan. It really worried me that she would be left in the world with no parents to love and care for her.

So I wondered―what if her parents weren’t really dead? What if the two people that died were the baby’s adoptive parents? What if her biological parents were very much alive?

And then, as writers are want to do, I thought, what if the biological father was an extraordinarily wealthy sheikh who was unaware that he had fathered a child?

Why a Sheikh? In a previous incarnation as a transformational leadership coach I was on assignment in one the most dangerous prisons in New Zealand.

I very much admired the men and women who worked in these very oppressive environments to keep our world safe. I especially admired those that were committed to helping prisoners change their lives.

One of the female prison oﬃcers at Rimutaka Prison knew that I was a romance novelist and asked me if I would write a book with a sheikh as the hero.

So here he is, Cheryl. I dedicate Melanie and Tariq’s love story for you. And I also dedicate this book to the survivors of the 2019 Christchurch mosque shootings in New Zealand―and to those around the world who know that only love can bring peace.

Because this story was also born from a desire to understand and draw closer to the true beauty of Islamic faith and belief.

I hope you enjoy this excerpt from Chapter 5 of Claimed by The Sheikh

Three hours later Melanie was wheeling her carry-on suitcase through the stark grey, soulless walls of Paris’s Hôpital Necker when she caught sight of Tariq na Hassir. Sheikh Tariq na Hassir, she corrected as she took an abrupt step back, panic shooting through her in a splintering surge of shock.

She froze as he feasted his dark contemptuous gaze on her, too stunned to believe that he was really there. Too overwhelmed to comprehend that in the midst of this tragedy the man she had once loved with all her soul stood before her. Too appalled that the man who had broken her heart, the man she had believed, hoped, and prayed she would never see again was advancing toward her.

It was beyond horrific. The worst of circumstances. She wanted to flee from the tainted memories that united them and stained their past. She wanted to run from the contamination of the choices she had made. She wanted to bolt from the danger he presented but her black ankle boots felt glued to the sanitised linoleum floor.

“What are you doing here?” she hurtled out.

“I am claiming my brother’s son,” he said with righteous arrogance.

“You?” Her voice rose beyond the bounds of what was acceptable in a hospital. “You never wanted a child, isn’t that what you said when you threw me from your bed?”

“You left.”

“You gave me no choice. I wanted marriage, a man who would love me—children. You didn’t. Not with a commoner,” Melanie said without making eye contact, her voice trembling with hurt and regret.

Tariq crossed his arms over his powerful chest. “I never said that.”

“You made that abundantly clear. I wanted to be your wife—not your convenient mistress,” she gritted. “I wasn’t good enough. Just like little Salim. Only he’ll be worse, won’t he? Salim’s a half-caste— your brother’s royal blood tainted by a Western whore. That’s what your father called my sister, didn’t he?” she fired at him. “But he was wrong. Zayed loved my sister. He married her against your father’s wishes. She was his lawful wife, not his shameful wench.”

I feel nothing for you, she lied to herself as she pushed past Tariq and walked toward the glass wall separating her from her son.

“Oh my god,” Melanie bit her lip, blinking back tears, as she looked at the small boy lying bandaged in the paediatric hospital bed. Her fingers trembled with longing, wanting to hold her son for the first time in her arms.

Why does love always cause pain, she thought, looking up at Tariq and then back toward her son? She studied Salim’s closed eyes, his dark lashes resting peacefully against his cheeks, his wild curly hair splayed upon the starched hospital linen, his cupid lips curved into a mercifully comatose dream, she was suddenly struck by how like Tariq he was.

God, we created something beautiful.

“Where are the doctors? Nurses? Why isn’t anyone here….?” She said, spinning around.

“They’re preparing to leave.” He said, exuding authority and a compelling magnetism that sent her pulse soaring.

“Leave? I don’t understand? Why? Where?” She stammered.

“I’m taking my brother’s child back to Avana.”

“Salim, his name is Salim. God, can’t you even say his name.”

“You’re upset.”

“Yes, I’m upset,” she flew at him. “My sister is dead, and now you want to take away my…” she swallowed hard, forcing back the truth she yearned to speak, “—my only connection to her.”

Just like you always remove the things most important to me.

“Besides, you can’t just take a three-year-old boy who has just survived a fatal car crash from the hospital.”

“I can and I will.”

“He’ll die.” How could she trust him, when he had deceived her before?

“Salim will die if he stays in France,” he said jabbing at the headlines in a newspaper laying on the waiting room table. “The place is almost prehistoric. Hospital fire kills. Read it for yourself.”

Melanie scanned the paper and read the article out loud, “A fire at a Paris hospital has killed eleven newborn babies. The blaze is believed to have been caused by electrical wiring.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “How horrible…Oh my God…Those poor babies… Those mothers… ” her voice trailed oﬀ. Mother. She was a mother. It still didn’t seem real.

“It is already decided. Only I can ensure the child’s protection.” Not a muscle in Tariq’s hard, handsome face moved, and feeling as though he’d slapped her, as though he too considered her unworthy of the title, Melanie looked away.

“My aids have assembled and flown to my kingdom the most skilled medical staﬀ in the world. Everything has been arranged. We leave in my private jet today.”

“You can’t just take my—” she paused, frantically scrambling for the right words. How could she possibly reveal the truth? His wrath would be merciless. Her deception would only make his resolve to claim her child stronger.

“You can’t just take my sister’s child like that. You have no more claim to him than I do. What about what I want?”

“You?” he almost spat the word. “Your sister murdered my brother.”

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Here’s another excerpt from Chapter 21, inspired by true events at a school here in New Zealand. My hope, like Joe Biden’s, is that hate crimes cease.

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Chapter 21
“Not long,” he said.

“I was just leaving.”

“There’s no need.”

“Yes,” she stammered, her voice barely audible. “There is.”

He watched as she hurried from the room, and then walked to the bed and lay the soft, pink, giraffe he had purchased in Paris beneath the three-year-old’s arm. Pink, he affirmed Not blue—or brown or anything even moderately manly or remotely true to the animal’s natural colours.

Melanie had been right. Tariq was so shut down, so closed, so hard-hearted he was incapable of showing emotion. His own upbringing had been so frozen of femininity, so malnourished in favour of warrior-like masculinity, so deliberate in the demarcation and devaluing of the female gender that as a result, he went about his life with no more emotion than a terracotta warrior.

A tide of anger surged through his gut and churned with the pain of his lost childhood. He clenched his fists. He wanted none of that for his brother’s son, he realised with punching clarity.

He leaned over and stroked the child’s hair. Tariq’s heart kicked as Salim’s eyes fluttered. Was it possible that, against all medical wisdom, the boy was aware of his presence?

Impossible. He was lost to everyone, deep in a coma from which the doctors said he may never wake. The irony, the injustice, the torture, Tariq thought, tightening his grip on the metal frame of the paediatric bed. He was powerless.

What did the child dream of, he wondered, as he watched the boy lying lost in his unconscious mind? Tariq envied the peacefulness that enveloped him. He was thankful the child knew nothing of the car crash that had killed his parents. At least he had been spared that unspeakable trauma.

Tariq’s gaze drifted to the pink giraffe. It was the perfect totem to accompany Salim on his sleepy journey. Wide-eyed, the giraffe appeared to agree. Tariq remembered the words of the African shaman he had met on one of his many rescue missions to liberate endangered species. The gentle creatures, with their gracefully long necks, were believed to stretch into heaven. ‘They are a spirit animal who wanted you to hold your head high and rise above trivial earthly desires’, she had said.

‘They have the ability to reach opportunities that are not available to others,’ she had told him. ‘It is also said that they can see the cosmic plans of the gods and inherently the possible future. As a spirit guide, the giraffe provides you the confidence to get through the toughest situations. Their luck will rub off on you as you come across great opportunities. You have to realise that these opportunities don’t come around often so you have to grab them while you can.’

Longing flooded his body as he gazed at the child. More than anything he wanted to clutch the boy and cleave him to his heart and kiss him awake. It wasn’t trivial to want the boy to rouse; it wasn’t trivial to want the boy to gain consciousness. it wasn’t trivial to want the boy to live.

His grandfather’s words floated through the air. Teach your children to love. The very words Hamza had spoken to his own son, Tariq’s father, only to find the wisdom fall on blocked ears. Wasn’t this why there was so much hate in the world? People had stopped listening to their hearts.

Tariq’s mind drifted to a news article he had read recently. A 10-year-old child whose family had escaped persecution for their beliefs under the hateful Taliban regime, hoping to find a safe haven from Islamic State terrorists in New Zealand, had been taunted and bullied at school. Feeling so much pain he had tried to commit suicide. The hate-riddled school children, the article said, had held a knife to his throat as they yelled, Isis lover.

Rage ripped through his chest. Melanie was right. The child needed love. All children needed love. The world needed love. What right did he have to deprive anyone of that?

Tariq clutched his heart, feeling the pain, the emotions, the trauma he had suppressed for so long, flood to the surface. No, he vowed, clenching his fists, Salim would never know hatred, brutality, nor quiet contempt.

Tariq had vowed never to become his father and yet as Melanie had so bluntly reminded him, he had become a tyrant. He had spent a childhood marinated in trauma. He lifted his hands to the soft toy of Simba which had been rescued from the car-wreck and now lay ever watchful, at the foot of Salim’s bed. He lifted his paw and in a moment of punching clarity, he vowed he would dedicate his life to ensuring the boy’s life roared with love.

He propped the toy back into a protective stance, his paws outstretched toward the child, his long, powerful body splayed toward Salim. Tariq reached over and gently, tenderly, softly pressed his lips to the child’s cheek. He felt his eyes water and before he could control the flow of raw emotion a tear, shaped like a diamond, plopped upon Salim’s lips. But, unlike a fairytale miracle, his sleeping beauty did not wake.

Tears fell like a floodgate he was unable to stop, as though a valve in his garden had wedged itself open. Tariq watched transfixed as a finger of light from the setting sun anointed the tear in a prism of light.

How could he reach the boy? How could he save him?

He ran his hand across his chin, then leaned down and opened the musical case which lay beneath the child’s bed. What had the doctors said? Sometimes music had the power to heal.

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To enjoy your copy from Amazon, click here>>http://getbook.at/ClaimedByTheSheikh

To enjoy your copy from iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores, click here>>https://books2read.com/u/brVjdZ

To enjoy your copy from Kobo, click here>>https://www.kobo.com/ebook/claimed-by-the-sheikh-8

AUDIOBOOK

KOBO

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/audiobook/claimed-by-the-sheikh-9

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View more on Mollie Mathews's website »

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Published on July 21, 2020 14:38

July 20, 2020

Escapism at its best: special two-audiobook bundle: two sweet and sensual New Zealand Romances

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Dear readers

I was so thrilled to receive an email today telling me that ‘Love Me As I Am (Passion Down Under Sassy Short Stories Book 4)’ has been selected for a free feature at ItsWriteNow.comtoday.

You can read the blurb below and see the book feature here: https://itswritenow.com/love-me-as-i-am-passion-down-under-sassy-short-stories-book-4/

Love Me As I Am
The deepest hurts can herald the deepest love

Kiri Love had no need for friendships. She had no time for distraction. She was in her final year of medical studies by the grace of God to do a job—and she was determined to do a darned good one. There was no way she could fail.

Her mom had scrimped and saved every last dollar she earned and worked three jobs to pay for Kiri’s education and Kiri was determined to make her proud. She would be the first person in her family to receive a degree and achieve her ambition of being a heart surgeon.

But when her mother is murdered, she sacrifices her ambitions and travels back to the tiny Far North town which had created so much pain.

With three sisters under nine to feed, she’ll do whatever it takes to provide them with the security they need—even if it means grovelling to Benotti Zegna, reclusive billionaire jeweller-to-the-stars.

Benotti Zegna has a heart of gold but a failed marriage has left him cold. His hands are full running his global empire, plus being top-dad to his young and motherless daughter.

He can spot a diamond in the rough and while alarm-bells warn him to watch his heart, intuition tells him that Kiri Love will make the perfect nanny.

The role he offers is a far cry from her the life she’d hope to lead, but Kiri quickly discovers the power of family and sacrifice to heal the deepest of wounds.

Love Me As I Am is a short story, clean romance, full of quirky humour and the promise of a happily ever after.

Set in The Bay of Islands, New Zealand—one of the most beautiful, unspoiled, sensuous places in the world.

Love Me As I Am is part of Mollie Mathew’s bestselling series, Passion Down Under Sassy Short Stories. It can easily be read as a stand-alone story, but you’ll love reading the other books, too.

special two-audiobook bundle: Two Sweet and Sensual New Zealand Romances

And I have more great news too. The other books in this series are part of a special two-book bundle that I have narrated as an audiobook, Passion Down Under Sassy Short Stories 2 Book-Bundle Box Set: Love Me Forever and Twist of Fate

Here’s the blurb

“You’re the one” —honest love in exotic locations.

Grab these sweet and sensual escapist reads today. Lose yourself in these beautiful stories of broken hearts and second chances.

The first two Sassy Short Story books (over 500 pages) included in this bundle are: Love Me Forever and Twist of Fate

Love me Forever

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What if the end was just the beginning?

But Joey’s not someone who dwells on her own troubles. She has only one wish—following the still-birth of her sister’s first child, she prays her much loved younger sister may conceive again.

But despite Tomasso’s determined pursuit of Joey’s affection, her broken heart remains closed—to protect herself and her vineyard from a terrible threat.

If you enjoy stories with a touch of magic and fantasy and with that so important happy ending, you’ll love this powerful new love story.

‘Tugs at the heartstrings’

‘I love Mollie Mathews’

‘Heart-warming and beautiful with passion’

‘Love Me Forever has a lovely mystical feel about it, with deep longings being experienced by the characters.’

Twist of Fate

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What if a twist of fate could change your life? What if a twist of fate could change your life?

A Twist of Fate is a short story, clean romance, full of quirky humour and the promise of romance. A fun, quick read!

To enjoy Passion Down Under Sassy Short Stories 2 Book-Bundle Box Set: Love Me Forever and Twist of Fate from Amazon: getbook.at/2SassyShortStories

To enjoy your copy from Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/passion-down-under-sassy-short-stories-2-book-bundle-box-set-love-me-forever-and-twist-of-fate-1

AUDIOBOOK

KOBO

To enjoy your audiobook from Kobo:

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/audiobook/passion-down-under-sassy-short-stories-2-book-bundle-box-set

AUDIBLE

COMING SOON!

Audiobooks are also available from other online retailers and libraries for your listening pleasure

Praise for this series

“Love Me Forever has a lovely mystical feel about it, with deep longings being experienced by the characters. A delightful mystical romance with a dream-like quality, fraught with all the longings of Joey’s heart. When she plants her wish for her sister beneath the walnut tree, she doesn’t realize that the longings of her own heart have been heard.

When a stranger steps up to her in the vineyard it is the beginning of healing for her own heart. Well written with deeply emotive feelings, this book is part of a series and ends on a cliffhanger.”

~ Margaret W.

“Beautifully written. The author’s vivid and descriptive writing style pulled me into a world I never wanted to leave. Very beautiful stories!”

~ Hugh Harrison

“This was a fun read I really enjoyed. It’s perfect for a lazy weekend. This is the first book I have read by this author but it won’t be last. I can’t wait to be more.”

~ Poppy

“The author also tucks in some great life advice for everyone in the telling of this charming story. I hope you enjoy this book, too. I did.”

~ Alfie Rues

“I loved, loved, loved this book. An instantly gripping, compelling and fun read. Escapism at its best. I couldn’t put the book down and read it in one night.”

~ Lauri

View more on Mollie Mathews's website »

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Published on July 20, 2020 14:56

July 12, 2020

New Zealand Romance Authors and New Zealand Romance Books

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Dear friends,

I hope wherever you are in the world you are happy and safe. I am feeling blessed to be a New Zealand Romance author and to live in the beautiful Bay of Islands where I set many of my New Zealand Romance books.

It’s easier to maintain safe social distancing here than it is in Europe and other populated countries, and we are lucky to have (fingers crossed) COVID-19 somewhat under control.

There are less overseas tourists in our beautiful country now—but lots of people would love to come and live here. By some twist of fate, I was lucky to be born in New Zealand. And my mum told me I was conceived up here in the Bay of Islands. So I am doubly lucky!

Last weekend my lover took me on the coolest, fastest speed boat ride! There was only two of on the ride—we had all the thrills to ourselves. It was so much fun. And look at the weather… in the photo above…beautiful and sunny and it’s winter!

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I know you can’t travel here at the moment, but you can through some of the love stories I have set in New Zealand.

Love All of Me

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An unexpected lover…

After surviving a horrific accident Daisy Miller is plagued by guilt. Hiding both her mental and physical scars, she shuns love and escapes into work—finding meaning and purpose in running her global manuka honey empire.

Beautiful and smart, when Gianni Romano demands she sell the business to him, her passions are inflamed. How dare he think he can buy the only thing that gives her a reason to live?

Gianni Romano has ventured to New Zealand by the one thing he’d love to escape: family The Romano fortune and name has followed him wherever he goes. But that only made the headstrong Italian more determined to strike out on his own. Now he’s on the cusp of achieving world acclaim.

Only one woman stands in his way—Daisy Miller and her refusal to submit to his demands. The spark they have is more than a Sicilian sunset, but when emotions run deep and lives are on the line, will mixing business with pleasure be the bedrock for a lifelong love? Or will it all explode like an angry volcano?

Love Me As I Am is a short story, clean romance, brimming with the promise of a happily ever after. Set in The Bay of Islands, New Zealand—one of the most beautiful, unspoiled, sensuous places in the world.

To enjoy your copy from Amazon, click here:

getbook.at/LoveAllOfMe

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08946RHFW

To enjoy your copy from iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores, click here: https://books2read.com/u/4N9KnY

To enjoy your copy from Kobo, click here: https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/love-all-of-me

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Love Me As I Am

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The deepest hurts can herald the deepest love

But when her mother is murdered, she sacrifices her ambitions and travels back to the tiny Far North town which had created so much pain.

Benotti Zegna has a heart of gold but a failed marriage has left him cold. His hands are full running his global empire, plus being top-dad to his young and motherless daughter.

He can spot a diamond in the rough and while alarm-bells warn him to watch his heart, intuition tells him that Kiri Love will make the perfect nanny.

The role he offers is a far cry from her the life she’d hope to lead, but Kiri quickly discovers the power of family and sacrifice to heal the deepest of wounds.

Love Me As I Am is a short story, clean romance, full of quirky humour and the promise of a happily ever after.

Set in The Bay of Islands, New Zealand—one of the most gorgeous, stunning, sensuous escapes on the globe.

Praise for this series

~ Margaret W.

“Beautifully written. The author’s vivid and descriptive writing style pulled me into a world I never wanted to leave. Very beautiful stories!”

~ Hugh Harrison

“This was a fun read I really enjoyed. It’s perfect for a lazy weekend. This is the first book I have read by this author but it won’t be last. I can’t wait to be more.”

~ Poppy

To grab your copy from Amazon, click here>>getbook.at/LoveMe

To grab your copy from iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores, click here>>https://books2read.com/u/mVNMA5

To grab your copy from Kobo, click here>>https://www.kobo.com/ebook/love-me-as-i-am-6

AUDIOBOOK

AUDIBLE

(Coming soon)

KOBO

https://www.kobo.com/audiobook/love-me-as-i-am-5

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Will Lily and Leonardo end up giving their hearts to the wrong person?

Still reeling following her malicious sacking, family therapist Lily Rose is feeling rejected and low in spirits. Even worse, she’s broke. The last thing she needs is more money woes. Which is exactly what happens when she collides with billionaire water magnate Leonardo Ermenegildo Bressolini’s mint-condition Lamborghini.

Having found a place to retreat from the madness and greed and malevolence of his ex-wife the last thing Leonardo wants is complications. But he is a man in need of a housekeeper. And Lily Rose owes him. Big time.

What they both don’t know is just what a massive impact the crash will have on their lives. Sparks heat into a collision of powerful forces that can’t be dampened.

Spontaneous love on the beach sends deep passions and emotional connection—more heartfelt than either has ever known—steaming to the surface.

When Leonardo’s past comes careering into his future—will both Lily and Lorenzo end up giving their hearts to the wrong person?

Forever and Always is a short story, clean romance, full of quirky humor and the promise of a happily ever after.

Set in The Bay of Islands, New Zealand—one of the most beautiful, unspoiled, sensuous places in the world.

Forever and Always is part of Mollie Mathew’s bestselling series, Passion Down Under Sassy Short Stories It can easily be read as a stand-alone story, but you’ll love reading the other books, too.

Reader Reviews

“Did you ever dream that a car crash that wiped out your bank account could turn into one of the best days of your life? Meet Lily Rose, who only wants to help children through emotional trauma and ends up finding herself and her true love in the process. This charming and warm short story is just the start of great things to come.”

~ Elaine Zieroth.

“While a quick read, there’s plenty of meat to Forever and Always and a happily ever after in the offering!”

~ JoAnn Weiss

“I enjoyed Forever and Always—a story about two wounded people that come together in a crash. I very much enjoy Mollie Mathews writing. When she writes I feel like I’m right there because of the colourful descriptions that she paints.”

~ Pat

To enjoy your copy from Amazon, click here>>getbook.at/ForeverandAlways

To enjoy your copy from iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores, click here>>https://books2read.com/u/mKEQv9

To enjoy your copy from Kobo, click here>>https://www.kobo.com/en/ebook/forever-and-always-27

AUDIOBOOK

AUDIBLE

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07SXH56D8

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Forever-Always-Passion-Under-Stories/dp/B0868GKJ36

https://www.amazon.com.au/Forever-Always-Passion-Under-Stories/dp/B086814BF7

KOBO

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/audiobook/forever-and-always-24

The two books above are from my popular Passion Down Under Short Stories collection. If you’d enjoy a longer New Zealand Romance, you’ll love

The Italian Billionaire’s Scandalous Marriage

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Would you protect a murderer to save your family? Three women. Three lives. And the lies that bind them. Why is everyone afraid of the truth?

When a lonely young American woman inherits a painting she discovers her whole life was a lie. Desperate for the truth, she goes in search of her true identity. The painting is her only clue. But everyone is determined to keep its secret past repressed, including Vitaliano Rossi, the Italian gold tycoon, unnaturally suspicious of her motives, who wants the painting vanquished. How can she discover who she really is and convince him that his love means more to her than gold?

Do you dream of travelling to New Zealand? Now you can—all from the safety of your own home. The Italian Billionaire’s Scandalous Marriage is set amongst the spectacular scenery of the South Island in New Zealand.

Praise for Book Two in the Gemstone Billionaire’s series—The Italian Billionaire’s Scandalous Marriage

“I loved the premise that she needs the hero to unlock the secrets to explain her past—it’s great conflict.”

“I really enjoyed this story, your writing, the characters and the kiss. Thanks!”

“What a blinking good read—more please. I was hooked from page one.”

“I want to know the secret in the painting.”

If this is the first time you have read a Gemstone Billionaire story, you can easily read each book as a standalone. If you would like to know when the next book in the series is published, please go to my website http://www.molliemathews.com and sign up to my newsletter. Thank you for your amazing support!

To grab your copy from Amazon, click here>> getBook.at/ScandalousMarriage

To grab your copy from iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores, click here>>https://books2read.com/u/mVNdn5

To grab your copy from Kobo>>https://www.kobo.com/ebook/the-italian-billionaire-s-scandalous-marriage-1

AUDIOBOOK

https://www.audible.com/pd/The-Italian-Billionaires-Scandalous-Marriage-An-Italian-Billionaire-Romance-Audiobook/B08745WFMS

https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/The-Italian-Billionaires-Scandalous-Marriage-An-Italian-Billionaire-Romance-Audiobook/B087485CLB

https://www.audible.com.au/pd/The-Italian-Billionaires-Scandalous-Marriage-An-Italian-Billionaire-Romance-Audiobook/B0873ZXX6G

KOBO

https://www.kobo.com/en/audiobook/italian-billionaire-s-scandalous-marriage-the

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July 1, 2020

In love, the most dangerous enemy is saucy secrets

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Dear readers (and listeners!)…finally, after months and months of delay (way before the ‘virus’ my romcom Sex With Strangers is available on Audible! (and Kobo and libraries too!)

If you missed my earlier posts, here the yummy blurb:

44-year-old Ruby Evans doesn’t want to be a ‘leftover girl.’ But finding a ‘forever’ man is proving impossible.

Suddenly single after 20 years of marriage, her husband is the only man she has ever slept with. But the one bit of security she always thought she’d hold onto for the rest of her life is brutally ripped from her.

Humiliatingly and cruelly ex-ed when her husband trades her for a younger model, Chanel Zest, a long-time friend and motivational life coach, comes to her rescue. Together they embark on a quest to reclaim and rebuild Ruby’s shattered life and begin the gruelling process of dating again.

Once in a pink moon, Ruby has to play dirty…

If you loved Brigette Jones’s Diary and enjoy romantic comedy, you’ll love Sex With Strangers .

Full of quirky humour and the promise of a happily ever after.

Sex with Strangers is a clean romantic comedy with a few spicy bits.

Lovely feedback to receive

Thank you to everyone who reposted their reviews after I shared what happened with Amazon. I am so blessed to have such great, supportive readers.

Sex With Strangers received this lovely feedback recently:

“A playful and true view of a recently divorced woman
Every woman who has gone through a divorce after more than one-decade long marriage identifies with this story. The insecurities about going out single again, the difficulties in relating to previous friends as most of them are couples (nobody likes to be the third wheel), the feeling that you are viewed as a competitor (by a previous friend) and the list goes on. Not everyone has a supporting net as Ruby – the main character – does and even though her life coach has quite a few shortcomings about relating to people and finding love she does help Ruby to get on with her life. There are quite a few steamy parts but most of the book is written with a lot of humor and the characters are easy to get fond of. It’s a true picture of modern newly divorced women and it was fun read!”

~ Claudete Takahashi

MORE PRAISE FOR SEX WITH STRANGERS

“I loved the humor”

“I absolutely enjoyed this story. I loved the storyline, I loved the characters, I loved the humor. I couldn’t put it down. The descriptions were perfect. I loved everything about this book especially the humor. It was funny, sad at times, and I loved it.”

~ Patricia Quinn

“Cute and fun to read”

“It was cute and fun to read. I really enjoyed the story because I liked it was charming and cute, a little humorous. I thought this story was a great kept my interest, had to finish the story I would recommend it to friends and family.”

~ Carol G.

“A playful and true view of a recently divorced woman”

“A playful and true view of a recently divorced woman. Every woman who has gone through a divorce after more than one-decade long marriage identifies with this story. The insecurities about going out single again, the difficulties in relating to previous friends as most of them are couples (nobody likes to be the third wheel), the feeling that you are viewed as a competitor (by a previous friend) and the list goes on. Not everyone has a supporting net as Ruby – the main character – does and even though her life coach has quite a few shortcomings about relating to people and finding love she does help Ruby to get on with her life. There are quite a few steamy parts but most of the book is written with a lot of humor and the characters are easy to get fond of. It’s a true picture of modern newly divorced women and it was a fun read!”

~ Claudete Takahashi

“A really good, hip, fun book.”

“Hilarious.”

“I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

Have you read this fast, fun and frisky read yet?

Enjoy the eBook, Paperback, Hardback and audio through the links below…

To grab your copy from Amazon, click here>>getbook.at/SexWithStrangers

To grab your copy from Kobo, click here>>https://www.kobo.com/ebook/sex-with-strangers-13

To grab your copy from Apple, Barnes and Noble, and other great bookstores, click here>>https://books2read.com/u/4EkM6z

The audio version of this book is now available from all online bookstores and libraries:

Currently available for your listening pleasure from:

Kobo>>https://www.kobo.com/us/en/audiobook/sex-with-strangers-14

Audible

USA

https://www.audible.com/pd/Sex-with-Strangers-Audiobook/B08BTKHJ61

https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Sex-with-Strangers-Audiobook/B08BTSSB6L

Australia

https://www.audible.com.au/pd/Sex-with-Strangers-Audiobook/B08BTKDD8R

Enjoy other full-length contemporary romances by Mollie Mathews:

Flight of Passion; Claimed by The Sheikh

Follow me and be inspired

I love sharing inspiration and author peeks on Instagram and Facebook…and Youtube too! Follow me and be inspired whenever you need a pick-me-up

Subscribe to my blog for inspiring posts and follow me on BookBub to stay tuned for new releases>>https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mollie-mathews

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Be inspired on Instagram www.instagram.com/molliemathewsauthor

Check out my inspiration board on Pinterest www. nz.pinterest.com/molliemathews/

Enter & WIN!

Pre-order my October release and be in with a chance to win one of three signed paperback copies.

Click here>> to enjoy the first chapter from my upcoming new release, Love All of Me.

To enjoy your copy from Amazon, click here:

getbook.at/LoveAllOfMe

To enjoy your copy from iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores, click here: https://books2read.com/u/4N9KnY

To enjoy your copy from Kobo, click here: https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/love-all-of-me

Enter now!

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Published on July 01, 2020 21:36

June 25, 2020

Happy Hobbies

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How are you all feeling? These are sure crazy up-and-down times. To keep ‘sane’, along with writing love stories, I pick up a paintbrush or a pencil and enter into the quiet contemplative world of art.

As I share in many of my books, creativity in all its guises is so healing. Whether this is learning a new skill, picking up a new hobby, or increasing the talent we already have – creativity is healing on so many levels.

Another hobby that I super enjoy is photography. My cousin Cindy was a great photographer too. She took this photo of my beautiful grandmother Molly (same name but different!)

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I took this photo of this beautiful wee man on a recent trip to Wellywood

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I thought he was so super gorgeous that I would feature him in my next love story—I’ve changed his name to protect his privacy!

CHAPTER TWO

“Thanks for waiting, Zac,” Kate said, as opened the driver door of the ute. “Now slide over.”

Zac pretended not to hear and kept his nose pressed against the top of the steering wheel.

“Zac, move over. Come on. If you could drive, I’d let you. I hate to break it to you, but you’re a dog. And dog’s can’t drive. It’s the law.”

He regarded her with determined dark eyes, then turned, and padded to the passenger side.

“You know I love you,” she said, sweeping her hand vigorously across his fur. The truth was if it wasn’t for her bees and her dog she wouldn’t be here at all. Both of them needed her. Both of them gave her a reason to live. She loved her rescue dog more than life itself. And her bees gave her something of her father to hang onto. A calling.

She clenched the steering wheel, and eye-balled the roof, willing her tears not to flow. Not here. Not now. Her mum, and her dad, and her sister had left the safety of the cruise-ship and joined a tour to the volcano on White Island—and now they were dead.

What right did she have to cry?

Kate looked back at Zac. Zac looked back at Kate, just as he had that day she had rescued him, death in his eyes. Only now she knew he was acting to get his way. He was not the dog she thought she would choose when she went to the animal centre a year ago.

She had wanted a happy bouncy puppy, one that would make her feel better. But on his best day with his sad brown eyes, and jet black coat, he looked like a professional mourner. And in the end, that had suited her fine.

Nobody had wanted a three-legged, pug dog with a skin impediment. And she couldn’t have left him in the animal rescue centre not once she found out that the day she had called in was to be his last day.

She patted his soft, sleek fur. The Excema had flared because he had been so poorly treated. And she knew, unlike her own scars, Zac’s would heal with love. Everyone needed to be loved. She needed to be loved. And now she had someone to love too.

She had Zac.

Zac.

He had not been the man she had dreamed she would spend her life with. The man she had dreamed she would have children with. The man she would marry until—’Til death would they part.

Zac had been Prozac with three legs and a short, stump of a tail. He had saved her life.

“We have a lot in common you and me, and you know I couldn’t leave you knowing I could’ve saved you and didn’t.”

Zac rolled his eyes up to stare at her, still not budging from the driver seat.

“I saved your butt, now move your pudgy arse,” she said, nudging him. “Pretty please, Zac. I’ll be late for the beautician.”

Zac grunted and stumbled into the passenger seat. He hobbled round and round as he situated himself on the split tan upholstery.

“Don’t look so depressed, you’re supposed to cheer me up- not make me feel guilty.”

He didn’t get much happier as they drove away from the counselling rooms. Instead, he stared wistfully at her lap.

“Okay come on then,” she said patting her thighs. Zac didn’t wait to be asked twice. He jumped into her lap.

Zac met her eyes, squeeze her shoulders, and plunge toward her, licking her from chin to brow with sweeping slurps.

“Oh, Zac,” Kate burst into tears and wrapped her arms around him. His body was warm and wriggly and welcoming and Kate held him tighter, so thankful to have someone alive in her life. Especially at Christmas when she always felt so sad.

“It’s just me and you, Zac,” she told him, sobbing.

Zac sighed and begin to lick the tears from her face, which made Kate cry even harder.

She wrapped her arms around his pudgy belly. She felt sad and happy at the same time. it was a relief to cry after holding everything in for so long. She gave one final sniff and let go of Zac. She had to get herself together before anyone saw the tears in her eyes.

Balancing on one leg Zac pressed his paws on the window ledge and smeared the glass with his squishy nose.

“Okay, just a little but no leaping out when you see a pretty girl,” Kate said, pressing the button and lowering the window.

“You are family now, Zac,” she told him. “And I’m not losing anyone else again.”

Did you enjoy this excerpt from Love All of Me?

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To enjoy your copy from Amazon, click here:

getbook.at/LoveAllOfMe

To enjoy your copy from iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores, click here: https://books2read.com/u/4N9KnY

To enjoy your copy from Kobo, click here: https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/love-all-of-me

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If you want a daily inspiration, quote or giggle, you should follow me on Instagram>>https://www.instagram.com/molliemathewsauthor/

Check the link in my Instagram bio to access a free love story guaranteed to help you feel better today. (It’s written in my former hometown, Wellington, New Zealand—once voted by Lonely Planet as the Coolest Little City in the World

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Published on June 25, 2020 19:06

June 18, 2020

The Italian Billionaires Christmas Bride
What if the pers...

The Italian Billionaires Christmas Bride
What if the person who is so, so, so wrong for you is really so, so, so right…

Dear readers,

I was reflecting the other night about all the conflict in the world and recalled something the great Italian artist Giorgio Morandi, reputed to be one Italy’s finest still-life painters, once said that there was beauty in opposition. It struck me as such a powerful and liberating attitude to live and love by. I used these sentiments in one of my romance stories, The Italian Billionaires Christmas Bride.

In 1915, Morandi joined the army but suffered a breakdown and was indefinitely discharged. He retreated from people, the world—their warmongering and their conflict—and sought solace in the beauty of inanimate objects. His paintings are revered for their tonal subtlety in depicting simple subjects, which were limited mainly to vases, bottles, bowls, flowers and landscapes.

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I love the still, silent, metaphysical beauty of his work. I thought I’d share a scene, where my heroine confesses her own love for his work—and introduce the hero and heroine in opposition, but also shared joy:

CHAPTER 11

Her comment was met with stony silence. Not a muscle in his hard, handsome face moved as she strode ahead. Max’s walk was purposeful with a controlled, yet impatient, strength to it as he led her through the villa. Clearly, he was in a hurry to be rid of her.

Issy slowed her pace deliberately, gasping audibly as she walked past walls lined with priceless artworks she’d only ever seen in borrowed books and on the Internet.

‘This place is like a museum. It’s immaculate,’ Issy said, as she followed him past a living room double the size of a luxury hotel lobby, opening out to a massive wrap-around deck with panoramic views of the sea. The vibrant turquoise hues of the ocean spreading below contrasted with the starkness of Max’s mood. ‘You must love coming here,’ she ventured.

‘I don’t have time for holidays,’ he said. ‘I have full-time staff to ensure it is available all year round for friends or family who may want to relax,’ his tone was flat as though the thought of chilling surrounded by so much beauty didn’t excite him one little bit.

His footsteps were silent on the smooth marble floor, contrasting with her sandals clacking noisily as she quickened her pace to keep up with him. Friends with benefits no doubt, Issy thought. She didn’t know a stitch about his love life but she didn’t have to be a NASA scientist to guess that a man as handsome and wealthy as Max would be inundated with beautiful women offering their services.

Suddenly she froze, her heart pounding, as they walked down a glass panelled hallway toward a painting as small as the Mona Lisa.

‘Oh, my gosh,’ Issy’s breathing raced as she stepped closer, her nose almost pressed against the canvas as she traced every ethereal brush stroke. ‘Is that a Morandi?’ she gasped, her voice a high-pitched whisper. To anyone else the painting would just be a collection of ordinary objects—bottles and jars standing stoically against a muted background, but in the hands of a master even the ordinary could be elevated to transcendent beauty—and equally as potent.

Max’s grave mood lifted as his eyes followed the source of her attraction. He touched his mouth, drawing attention to his sensuous lips as he nodded.

She gasped, mentally computing that a painting of this worth was beyond anything she would ever experience up close in her lifetime. Her heart hammered with equal measures of thrill and fear, as though at any moment a security guard would command her to step back beyond the rail, or escort her from the house, except there was no barrier rail. And for the next few days at least, this house of treasure would be her home.

Rummaging in her bag, she whipped out her camera ‘May I take a photo?’

His gaze narrowed as his dark, fierce eyes riveted to her. He nodded. ‘Paintings should be appreciated.’

She took several photos then turned to him. ‘Gosh, this is like being in an art museum. We’ll never see paintings like this in New Zealand, and there’s no way I’ll ever get to Europe, not on my wage.’ Startled by the strange glint in his eye, she threw her attention back to the painting again.

‘It’s true when they say his paintings can transport you. Like you could fold into them and escape reality,’ she said. Nothing she was feeling was even close to reality, she thought achingly aware of her energy pulsing in tiny quivers toward Max as she stood in front of him. Not a muscle in his body moved as he stood like concrete, his broad shoulders rigid, his posture stiff, yet she sensed he felt the magnetic energy pulse between them too.

It was as if Morandi had infused the bottles with an aura-like energy, which seeped from the painting blanketing them both.

Max stood like a sentry, slightly at a distance, behind her like the stoic blue-black bottle and the fine white vase in the painting, touching but not touching.

He turned to her, his normally cool blue eyes now a penetrating black. ‘Is beauty the bringing together of opposites to make one?’ he said.

His unexpected question threw her. Whether he was speaking of the white and black bottles in the painting, or of their own obvious differences she didn’t know, but she found herself wishing recklessly it was the latter.

‘Opposites attract,’ she ventured, her voice catching as she watched the sunlight glance off his waves of dark hair, then move across the surface of his face, tracing the muscular lines of his strong cheekbones, the indentations of his dimples, before settling on the black-silk-like fibre clinging to his powerful chest. ‘There must be a reason for that.’ She forced a laugh, noticing with alarm that it sounded more nervous than confident.

There was a reason why the energy sparked and cracked and hissed between them. A reason she would never, could never, explore. ‘I know Morandi believed finding beauty in opposition would create a happier world,’ she said, steering the conversation to safer ground.

‘You are well informed.’ His eyes glistened with vitality as though he was both surprised and impressed with her level of knowledge.

‘Actually, I studied art history at college, briefly,’ she said, softly. ‘Something my parents reluctantly indulged. I remember being captivated by Morandi’s work. He was one of Italy’s finest still-life painters, but I never in a zillion years thought I’d ever see the real thing.’

‘You said, briefly,’ he paused, inviting her to go on.

Issy hesitated, aware that he was asking all the questions, and once again she was hogging the ear time when really the roles should be reversed. But perhaps in the sharing of what appeared to be a mutual passion she might learn a little about him. It would be the only passion they could share, she thought, willing her throbbing pulse to slow.

‘I was at college, young and dependent on my parents, we needed money. Art wasn’t an indulgence we could afford.’ Issy’s chest felt tight as she relived a part of her childhood she preferred to forget. ‘There’s no money in art”, they told me. “Get a real job. Keep it as a hobby”, blah, blah, blah.’

She forced a smile as she looked at the painting, ‘It’s ironic when you realize how much money these artists earned when they followed their passion. But anyway, it was what it was. And I wanted to please them. So, as you know, I went and trained as a clinical psychologist.’ She shook her head and gave a humourless laugh. ‘I thought it might help me figure out my dysfunctional family.’

Max studied her intensely, the gleam in his eyes acknowledging her disillusionment. ‘Perhaps I should have studied psychology too,’ he said, a weariness in his tone that came not just from tiredness, but from life. ‘But now you’re an art therapist. It is difficult to remain true to yourself and your philosophy. I respect that.’

There he was complimenting her again. His tone was so earnest Issy felt herself blush. Being understood and appreciated felt too good. And too foreign. And that was the problem she thought helplessly. Talking like this was merging the personal and the professional together dangerously. Two forces in opposition like oil and water which a sane person, a professional person, knew would never mix.

Only she wasn’t sane, she acknowledged. Not anymore. Not with him being so kind. Not with those sexy dimples indenting as his lips curved into a kind smile. It was easier to keep her distance when he was aloof and remote.

She looked away, knowing she must dismiss his comment as politeness not interest in her for fear of wanting something that would never be hers.

Him.

Cultured people like Max were raised to be polite and she mustn’t let herself think he was in the slightest bit interested in who she was as a person. But he was a good listener, and as rare as it was for someone to focus on her for a change it felt nice. She could share how art made her feel, find out what moved him and still maintain a professional distance.

‘It’s incredible how a painting can affect you,’ she said. ‘It’s completely out of your control. My heart is racing, the hairs on my arms are tingling like crazy. I feel inspired and breathless, and light-headed,’ she said. It was the painting, not him, definitely not him that was creating all these crazy physical sensations, she thought, surprised by the powerful emotions cascading through her.

‘Can you believe, my eyes are pooling, like at any moment I might cry. You know, it’s almost like the feeling you have when you’re in love. Is that why you purchased this painting?’ she said.

His eyes focused on her with razor-like intensity, sending shivers racing up her spine.

‘Art is not about emotion. Art is about power.’ His head jerked backwards sharply.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, pleased that on this point they agreed. ‘The power of art, as Picasso once said, to wash from the soul the dust of everyday life.’

His lips twisted in a wry smile. ‘You are a romantic Ms. Riley. It is very sweet. But also naïve. The power of art, Ms Riley, is about money. Possessing what others covet and can never afford.’

Issy felt blood roar through her chest as she looked at the imposing man standing beside her. ‘No! Art is about feeling.’

‘You know, I actually think you believe that nonsense,’ he interjected. Max stepped toward her, encroaching upon her physical space until they were both nearly touching like the bottles in the painting.

Issy stood her ground, lifting her chin toward him as he stood over her. Was he really so emotionally blocked that he could feel nothing? ‘What happened to make you so unfeeling, so hard, so cynical?’

‘Life, Miss Riley. Life.’

‘Don’t you believe in love?’

‘Love,’ he grimaced, staring at the cold blue bottle in the painting, ‘is a business construct manufactured by salesmen and marketers to manipulate people like you.’

‘Have you always been so cynical?’ Issy challenged. ‘Love is a feeling. Like art is a feeling,’ she shrugged. ‘It’s hard to describe in words, but you know it when you sense it. It’s a warm, fantastic, life-giving feeling. Like eating ice-cream in summer, only without the calories.’

‘A feeling,’ Max snorted. ‘Another vague, nebulous, overused concept. I love that dress. I love those shoes. I love that painting.’ He turned toward her, looking directly into her eyes as though laying down a challenge.

‘I love you.’ His words delivered with icy hard detachment splintered through the warm air. His shoulders straightened sharply, ‘See how easy it is to say?’

He sounded cold, far more bitter than she’d expected, but something about the way Max strode stiffly toward the edge of the deck and stood gazing out at the blue sea, a pensive frown on those beautiful dark brows, made her wonder if perhaps even he thought he’d gone too far.

‘Show me a love that lasts,’ he said, turning to her at last.

What could she say? She’d notched up her Guinness Book record of impermanent affairs of the heart, the cancelled wedding her most public failure. But she wouldn’t tell him that. Not yet. Not ever. She could barely bring herself to talk about it with anyone, let alone a client she hoped to impress with her togetherness.

‘So we agree on something,’ Max said, filling the silent vacuum, ‘I’ve never felt it, never found it, never fantasized about it and I never will. Feeling is a distraction I can’t afford.’

‘Who did that to you?’ She said, wondering how a man who seemed to have everything, had so little.

Max flinched, his jaw hardening in steely resolve. ‘I’m a realist.’

‘If you don’t have love,’ Issy pressed, ‘or at least the hope of love, what do you have?’ She stepped toward him, concern widening her eyes. ‘Max?’ she whispered, probing for his reply

‘Work. I have work. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll take you to your private bure. I’m sure you’ll find the peninsular villa to your liking. You won’t be disturbed. I only ask that you show me the same courtesy.’

Adrenaline spiked in her chest. He was banishing her. ‘But what about the session I have planned for today?’

Did you enjoy this excerpt? This story was written during a wonderful time in Fiji. I decided to set the story there. It seems like such a lifetime ago, especially now that travel to foreign shores seems so far away now.

But you can travel to paradise in your imagination when you read this beautiful “opposites attract” love story.

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The idea for this story was sparked when I read about a very successful Italian fashion-tycoon who said, ‘My biggest regret is that I gave my life to my job.’ It struck me as very, very sad.

Although he never said it outright, he’d thrown himself into his work following the death of his life partner. His work was pure escapism—protecting him from feeling the pain of loss again.

He’d originally trained as a medic but after experiencing the horrors of war, he sought refuge in a fantasy world.

As a child, he’d loved the glitz and glamour Hollywood offered. After a brief stint in the war where he witnessed the deaths of friends, he found an escape from the harshness of reality returning to the fantasy of Hollywood

I wondered what sort of woman would be able to touch this frozen man at the deepest level? Everything in his life was controlled measured, predictably precise. I wondered what if the darkness of the past, his unhealed wounds began to impact his work, stifling his creativity and threatening to destroy everything he had fought so hard to achieve?

I wondered what if, as part of his recovery, he was forced to spend time with a woman so opposite in every way to the order he imposed in his life? And what if this woman was a children’s art therapist? A woman unimpressed by the fame and fortune he’d amassed, but who believed strongly in the power of play, fun, and spontaneity—things he considered reckless.

What would it take to make all the masks fall? To be vulnerable? To risk it all? What would it take, in spite of the fear, to believe you deserve, you want, you need to give love a second chance?

I hope you love this story as much as I loved writing it.

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The Italian Billionaire’s Christmas Bride

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June 11, 2020

Sex With Strangers? The inside scoop on characters and storylines.

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Dear readers,

As a friend of mine wrote to me, when times are tough, and you’re feeling depressed, you can’t concentrate on a heavy book. You need to read to take your mind off things.

Which is why I wrote Sex With Strangers, a comic and playful look at the world of dating follow betrayal and divorce As with all my books, it does portray serious themes, but it also shows the power of love, kindness, and compassion to heal the deepest wounds.

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Recently I came across this unused scene. I thought you’d enjoy an inside scoop on characters and storylines from this book.

BACKING A WINNER

Fergus left Chanel’s apartment feeling confused. For the first time in his life, he cared about someone. Really cared. Only instead of feeling safe and warm, like he thought he would, he felt like an outsider. They’d made wild passionate love all night, sex too, and then she had the nerve, the balls, in fact, to get up and cool as a cucumber tell him to let himself out.

“I’ll call you,” Ruby said as she headed out the door to work.

Hey! That was his line. And had been for seventeen years. Ever since he first started to fool around with girls. First, there was Mabel, who he had his wicked way with behind the bike shed at school. Then Chrissie, once again behind the bike shed. And then…well let’s just say there were a lot of pretty girls who were keen on Fergus at school and none of them minded the bike shed, not one little bit.

When Fergus was old enough to drive he got a car and quickly started having his way in the back seat of his 1964 Ford Anglia, ‘Angie.’ *

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It wasn’t a palace but at least it had a roof. None of the girls seemed to mind the split leather seating and the wire springs that popped up unexpectedly when the car jiggled too much. Boy did it jiggle. He gave that car a real run for his money.

Fergus smiled to himself as he remembered some of the innovative positions he’d tried out in Angie. He tried to figure out how many girls had begged and pleaded to go for a spin around the block with him. He soon gave up counting, there were just too many.

Fergus craved affection and the girls wanted to give it to him. So what was a young man just exploring his sexuality supposed to do? Say no? Not likely. Not unless you wanted to be called a faggot and a homo. That was the reality in the small town where he grew up. The first hug he’d ever had was from a prostitute. He revelled in that brief moment of affection. “When I got that hug, I wanted more and you know what can happen if you go looking for hugs,” he’d told his shrink years later.

For the first twelve years of his childhood, he had never spoken to a girl, never visited a shop, never even used a phone. He lived in five orphanages in nine years. He was addressed only as O’Farrell—rarely. More commonly he was known as a number in the system. In one institution, he was boy No. 33. Every time he shifted his number changed.

Then when he was fifteen a new teacher came to his local school. Miss Marples was from London and she was a knockout. She had hair the colour of gold that fell down her back in light waves which bounced up and down when she walked.

Her breasts bounced too. They were the biggest, roundest breasts Fergus had ever seen in his whole life. Much bigger than the young girls at school. Her eyes were green like the rich pasture surrounding the orphanage, and when she smiled they would glitter like diamonds. Fergus couldn’t believe his luck when she started asking him to stay back after school. She was different from all the adults that used to prey on him regularly. She was a woman. A real woman. With bits that fitted his parts perfectly.

It was wrong of course. She was twenty-eight and he was only fifteen. But for three years she was all he could think about. She gave him special tuition after school. Extra special tuition. Just for him. How he wished he could brag about her to all his mates.

“You can’t tell anyone, Fergus. Not a soul,” she said as she unbuttoned her blouse. “We’d get in trouble. Very serious trouble.”

“No Miss. I won’t tell a soul. Not a soul,“ he promised solemnly kicking off his regulation school shoes and peeling off his socks. He could still recall the embarrassment when she pointed to the holes in them. All his clothes were hand-me-downs—even, good lord, his underwear. Kids in orphanages were lucky if they ever got anything that was new.

Miss Marples took him under her wing. She fed him sweets and slipped him new clothes in return for his extracurricular activities. Fergus was an A student when it came to Miss Marples’ out of hours classes. An A+ student. Fergus never got A’s in anything else. She gave him hope.

He should have known that nothing good in his life ever stayed for long. His mother had only lasted five months. She’d died sweating like a pig and coughing up blood. TB they’d called it. He called it ‘TBOE—the beginning of the end’. His father buggered off and left Fergus and his seven siblings to fend for themselves. He was stupid to think Miss Marples would stick around either.

Fergus clenched his fists as he recalled how it all started to go sour. For three years, five months and 18 days no one knew. Until one night at the local, she had one drink too many and blabbed to several of her friends. Then the shit hit the fan. . . and the newspapers.

That was when Fergus first got a taste of the fast and ready world of gossip journalism. Of course, he didn’t much like being on the receiving end…well…no that’s a lie…he liked it plenty. Suddenly he was somebody. Not number 33 or 235 or what other bloody number they hadn’t used yet. He was Fergus O’Farrell, the kid who’d banged the horny teacher for three years. He was famous.

No, make that infamous—the talk of the town. Everyone was talking about him. All the men were super jealous and wanted to know how he managed to bag gorgeous Miss Marples with the hourglass figure and the plump, rosy red lips. Fergus instantly became the local Cassanova. Girls herded to him. But none of them stacked up to Miss Marples. Not one.

You see Fergus had fallen in love with her. He hadn’t meant to. It just crept up on him like the Sting Ray crept up on that Australian crocodile lover, skewering him in the heart and making him delirious. Only not with pain, well not at first, but happiness.

For the first time in his life, he suddenly felt wanted. Miss Marples was the only one who had been kind to him. Really kind. Not just the sex, but the clothes, the food, and the nice words she said about him. Miss Marples told Fergus that he was the smartest kid in the school. So smart that she felt he was wasting his life in a small country like Ireland. She told him he should set his sights higher and branch out into the big world.

Then bang! The only good thing to happen in his life for a very long time was gone! Gone! Just like that. Just because other do-gooders took it upon themselves to decide what was proper and what wasn’t.

Fergus shuddered as he remembered the look of anguish on her face when the police came to the school that fateful summer’s day. The kids sat gobsmacked as the headmistress, a misshapen, damp dishrag of a woman marched primly to the front of the class and instructed them all to go and have an early lunch.

Fergus didn’t feel like eating. He only felt like puking. He sat at the window and watched the police bundle Miss Marples into the back of their car. His body began to tremble, then convulse. His chest felt like a jackhammer was stabbing angrily at his heart trying to wretch it free.

It was for his own good, the social worker had told him, the proper thing to do. What was proper about taking the woman he loved and making her sit out ten to fifteen years in prison?

“It’s not just sex outside of marriage”, they said, “which is a very terrible thing in itself, but it’s sexual assault on a child. Even worse it’s by a person in a position of trust. Things like this can make good kids go rotten by contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

Lawyers always used big words that didn’t make sense.

The women in the town felt sorry for Fergus. They thought he’d been unfairly taken advantage off. Seduced and maybe even brainwashed.

He didn’t know about that. All he knew was the sex was better than great and he loved Miss Marples and he wanted to make her happy. He knew what she liked the most was Fergus mounting her and rogering her silly.

“You thrill me, Fergus,” she would say afterwards stroking his hair affectionately. Miss Marples was a knockout.

Fergus wanted to marry her.

Miss Marples promised that as soon as he turned eighteen and it was legal they would get married for sure. She told him that age didn’t matter. She told him that plenty of men hooked up with younger girls, so why did it matter if it went the other way. What she forgot to tell him, Fergus thought angrily, was that she was already married.

Harry Wessel, a two-bit investigative journalist found that out. Apparently, it wasn’t too hard to find skeletons in people’s cupboards. At first, Fergus was angry.

“Rot in hell” he cursed when Harry came to ask him for his comment.

He wished Harry had left the skeletons alone. Now he couldn’t even pretend Miss Marples had loved him. Now he had nothing to wait for. When she got out of prison she’d go straight back into the arms of her husband. Even if she didn’t she had ruined everything now.

Fergus wasn’t going to hang around waiting for her. Besides by the time she got out she’d be old and wrinkly. He tried to picture her at fifty-five. He screwed his face up, saggy breasts, wrinkles, ash-white thinning hair …awww not a pretty picture at all.

Stupid cow, why did she have to go and ruin everything?

“Look, kid, I feel bad about what happened,” Harry has said. “Blowing your hot thing like that. I’d like to make it up to you. There’s plenty of tits and arse in London…” he handed him his card. Look me up if you ever decide to cross the Atlantic. There’s some ready money for those willing to make the work their way up in the newspaper.”

Starting afresh, sounded good to Fergus, really good. Miss Marples might have stolen his trust, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let that ruin his life. Hell, he’d endured more pain than her breaking his heart in his life. He shuddered as he recollected the unwanted advances of the older kids. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He’d show her. He’d show them all, he vowed angrily.

“Tits and arse”, Harry told him, “tits and arse, more than you can shake a stick at.” That sounded good to him. Love was for mugs. And older woman? Well, they were just trouble. He fled the orphanage with a brown suitcase containing two pairs of pants, two shirts, a Bible, an identity card and one photograph of himself and headed for London.

Now nineteen years later it looked like history was about to repeat.

“You bloody fool,” Fergus cursed, “Don’t you ever learn?” He clenched his fists angrily. What had started out as a fun way to get intimate with New York had backfired. He had fallen for the funny girl with the crooked teeth and the silly seductive techniques that looked like they’d been learned from a magazine.

She’d fooled him and then again she hadn’t. She’d only managed in confusing him and snuck up on his blindside. But he should have seen it coming, he fumed. After all he knew every trick in the book. He was a pro. Only this time he’d been outsmarted. His damn stupid emotions had got in the way of his head, and his splintered heart.

He didn’t want to hang around in the apartment one second longer. It felt odd being left on his own. Normally he was the first to shoot the breeze the morning after shagging a girl. He looked grimly around the room.

Used condoms and the remnants of the chocolate flavoured underwear she’d playfully worn lay strewn on the floor. For an experienced pro, though, her room had a real girly feel.

Matching bedside tables were covered in a sheer white fabric which co-ordinated tastefully with her pure white sheets. At least they used to be pure white. Now they were a crumpled tangle stained with the night’s passion and remnants of the pre-sex feast they’d concocted up in the early hours of the morning.

Fergus picked up a champagne flute lying precariously close to the edge of the bed and placed it carefully on the table. Squashed beneath the glass lay a plump strawberry drowned in alcohol. A large red stain bled across the sheets.

She should have got red satin sheets he mused as he tried half-heartedly to remove the stain. From what he’d read on her Sex With Strangers blog he’d figured they would have been more her style. That and a mirrored ceiling and black shagpile carpet. But something about this girl didn’t add up.

Not at all. He looked across the room to the vase of spring flowers which sat on her dresser. A sweet floral fragrance intermingled with the sexual odours that lingered in the crevices of the room.

Beneath the bright yellow, pink and lavender blooms were fifteen or so framed photographs of Ruby and a young girl. They looked alike. He guessed the girl must be a niece. She’d never mentioned a daughter.

He lay back in the sheets and stretched his arms languidly out to the side and ran his fingers across the soft cotton sheets and burrowed them under the soft feather pillows. Ah, so that’s where they got to, he mused as he discovered the underwear she had tantalized him with in the early hours of the evening.

As he traced the delicate fushia-pink lace g-string and surveyed the room the silence engulfed him. Surrounded by the dying memory of a wonderful night he fought back the feelings of longing. But they fought even harder to remain.

He ran his fingers over the lace underwear and wondered if he would ever hear from Ruby again. She seemed so nonchalant. So detached when she left. “Thanks a lot” said with the same lack of feeling as a thanks uttered to a storekeeper that’s just sold you a packet of smokes.

‘Thanks…I’ll be seeing ya’.

You know you won’t, but you say it just the same.

Back in London the girls always called him, chased him until he responded. If he liked them and if they were persistent enough he might shag them again. But only for a quick one. He didn’t want to get attached. But this time he got the distinct impression that she wasn’t going to call.

He was like some sort of social experiment. Some sort of initiation prank into the halls of sexual conquest.

His mind flashed back over the last couple of days with Ruby. The blind date where she dressed like a femme fatale and had come on so strong. With her coy smile, fluttering eyelashes and the way, she played with her necklace, forcing, yes forcing, his eyes to wander to her breasts. Nice pert ones that squeezed their way out into the world. Push-up bras have an uncanny ability to do that. Especially black satin ones with diamante’s sprinkled on them.

But then she threw him totally by not being able to handle her liquor. But he’d thrown himself more. He should’ve taken advantage of her, had his way and then left. The normal routine. But he hadn’t been able to. He’d taken her back to his place and nursed her all night long as she threw up again and again.

He wasn’t kinky or anything but there was something cute about the way she looked legs splayed out on the cold tile floor, head hovered over the toilet bowl. He had to admit it now though, it was kind of odd how quickly she had come to mean more to him than life itself. How the hell did she manage to sneak his way into his heart and under his skin?

Rule number one, never mix business with red hot pleasure.

The truth was Fergus knew why knew why she’d managed to pierce through all his armour. She was funny, cute, intelligent, caring. Not like the blonde bimbo’s he normally picked up for a quick shag. After a hard day at work, the last thing he felt like doing was talking. Dealing with maggots, and the scourge of society, digging up gossip and writing slanderous copy for the paper really took a toll.

At the end of the day, all he wanted to do was get pissed and get laid. Both of those things helped in their own unique way to get rid of the memories, the horrible taint of what he did for a living day in day out.

It paid well, but it sucked. Being in New York away from all that was like a breath of fresh air. One last job and he could ditch it all. The money sure would come in handy. He yearned to grab himself a patch of land and really make a go of his passion for sculpture. He dabbled a bit in London and people said he had real talent.

“Oh shit. The job.” Fergus glanced at his watch. “Shit. Look at the time. 10am. I’m supposed to have emailed an update by now. Five days and still nothing.,” he cursed. But he was getting closer, he might not have anything hard, but something told him he was really close to cracking it.

“Cripes where’s my underwear.” He looked around the bedroom. It looked like a bomb had gone off. Where the hell were his boxers? Brand new ones too.

He always wore his best boxers when he was seeing a girl. Calvin Kleins—one of the first things he’d brought when he got to New York. A bargain they were not. But now a short-lived expense, he cursed.

Ahh, then he remembered, they’d started unpeeling their clothes in the lounge. Against his will, he smiled, as his mind flashed back. He walked down the stairs. The bowl of radishes, lettuce, and asparagus and other supposed aphrodisiac lay on the plate largely untouched.

He laughed. He’d never see such a collection of completely undesirable food. He wanted to be sore at her but he couldn’t. The simple fact was she made him laugh like no other girl ever had, and he missed her. She’d only been gone two hours and he missed her like mad.

They’d lain in bed and talked about everything from politics to religion to the credit card debt and New York’s aggressive stance toward policing the way people ate food.

“Did you know that there is even going to be a law to make people chew their food at least seven times?” Ruby had informed him.

“Sometimes you have to help people to help themselves. Make it a law and people start taking sensible things more seriously. Where would we be if everyone could choose whether they wore their seatbelt or not?” He laughed.

“Buckle up, I’m taking you on a ride,” she cried as she mounted him, her hair flying around her face, and her breasts jiggling like two bowls of jelly as he thrust his hips up and down.

“Where are we going?”

“To the moon and back.”

“What say I don’t want to go there?” he teased, placing his hands firmly on her hips and rocking her body back and forth.

“It’s my way or the highway,” she laughed.

Such a change from the woman who had looked so uncomfortable in her slinky outfits and siren red lipstick. He knew a fake when he met one. She was faking it. Up until then, she’d been faking it. Pretending to be some hot sex goddess.

He seen enough phoneys, interviewed enough con’s, to know when someone was the real deal. Ruby may have a name like a prostitute, but that girl sure as hell wasn’t one. So he thought. But the casual way she had got up, showered and left had him wondering. Not so much as a kiss. I’ll be back after to tidy up. Let yourself out… I’ll call you…”

Just like Miss Marples.

“When you’re eighteen we’ll get married.”

Yeah right.

“I’m sick of being someone’s plaything. I’m sick of spying on people, I’m sick of making my living airing people dirty laundry. Just got this one job to do and then that should set me up. Give me the leg up I want to make a go of being a serious reporter. A war correspondent or …”

Fergus paused for a moment, recollecting his thoughts. When he was younger, before Miss Marples came and ruined everything he’d dreamed of becoming a sculptor. Or, if that didn’t work out, a scriptwriter. When he felt really confident he thought maybe he could do both.

The last thing he’d created before Miss Marples got locked up was a life-size torso of then together. When she betrayed him he’d destroyed it. He tried to sculpt again. He’d set up his own flat to a be a studio but he just couldn’t do it for some reason he just couldn’t fire up his creative juices in that way. But writing…now that came easily.

And now it looked like he was onto a winner.

Fergus pulled on his underwear and forced his legs through his jeans. “Damn her,” he cursed, “damn Ruby Evans.”

His legs got tangled in the foot of his jean. He kicked his legs wildly in the air trying to dislodge them. Then when that failed he ripped them angrily off this feet, screwed the jeans into a ball and threw them across the floor. They landed with a thud on a computer table, hidden in the corner of the room.

Fergus glanced at the computer and then at his watch. He was late. Really late. If he didn’t come up with something he really was going to get a bollicking. His dreams of making some money and exiting the seedy world of investigative journalism were disappearing fast. He’d have to come up with something and soon. Damn, why was this woman so elusive?

He went over to the computer desk and sat down, and flicked open the laptop. He logged into ‘sexwithlotsofstrangers’ and waited for the latest posting to come up on the screen.

July 16, 9:12 am Sex between the sheets

I’ve never done it in my house with a stranger but this is the next best thing. No quickies in the toilet, no shagging in the alleys, no quick gropes at the bus stop but full-on, wild, horny passionate sex. All night long, between the sheets in a downtown Manhattan apartment. Am I losing my mind you may ask? Taking a stranger back to my apartment, but I haven’t lost my mind and the apartment wasn’t mine. Let’s just say it was a friends…

Fergus smiled at the similarity between his night of passion and the words that appeared on the screen. He’d had sex between the sheets at some friend’s apartment too. I should start a blog, he thought wryly, I’m sure It would be a best seller too. His throat was dry and he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a glass of water. Gulped it down and then returned to the screen.

He was horny for me. I could tell. Dressed in a frog suit…

Fergus’s heart began to race. He scrolled quickly down the screen

I peeled off his clothes until he stood naked, only the moonlight illuminating the muscular curves of his body. I ran my finger down the length of the scar on his right arm.

Fergus leaned forward. He held his breath. Adrenaline raced in his body. “My scar. . .my underwear…the way I orgasmed, licking the chocolate from her butt . . .everything! She’s written about everything!”

He could feel his heart rise in his chest and then sink with a thud. He clenched his fists and unclenched them then clenched them again. Anger welled inside him, then rose to his face, stabbing his eyes like pinpricks!

“That bitch!” he cried, scrolling through the rest of the post. “That bitch had me for dinner.” Just another sexual conquest for her pleasure. No wonder she was so noncommittal. Shag them and run. He knew the drill. He’d practically invented it. He’d done it enough in his time. How could he have been taken for such a fool, he fumed.

He stared briefly at the computer screen. His mind blank and his body numb. Then teh cogs in his brain began to race. He’d show her. This time she would pay big time and Fergus would end up getting the story of his life. No one would have a scoop like his.

He knew the true identity of the blogger and what’s more, he’d got upfront and personal. His mind flashed back to Miss Marples and the media frenzy which had followed their discovery.

Déjà vu. Snap! Karma….how ever he framed it history had repeated. This time, he vowed angrily, this time he’d make it work in his favour.

He snapped the laptop shut and untangled his jeans before putting them on. He walked over to the bed, gathered up his shirt lying creased on the floor, found his socks and shoes and headed for the door.

He walked west toward Central Park. He needed time to think. To cool down. To digest the significance of everything that had just happened. As he sat down on a park bench his phone rang. Fergus took a deep breath. Calm. Stay calm. Ruby Evans’ name flashed up on caller ID. The phone rang several times before switching to voice mail. Fergus didn’t feel like talking with Ruby Evans right now. He still felt sore at her. He’d talk to her when he was good and ready.

He dialled his manager in London. “I’ve cracked it, boss. Really Cracked it. You’ll have a report on your table…er email…tomorrow. Guaranteed. What’s an exclusive worth to you? The inside scoop? $75K? Wow! That much? Yeah, I’m sure…really sure. You’ll be surprised. Really surprised. Wait ’til you hear what this girl does for a living! Gotta go. Talk tomorrow. Don’t worry…sure you can trust me…I learned from a pro…see ya.”

Fergus snapped the phone shut. His eyes wandered momentarily to a couple walking through Central Park hand in hand around the water’s edge, near the boathouse. The man stopped, raised his hand tenderly to the woman’s face and lifted a stray piece of hair that had fallen across her eyes. She smiled, and lifted her head to his, her eyes locked with his. The man lent down his lips slightly parted. Fergus looked away abruptly and stood up from the bench and walked briskly through the park.

Did you enjoy this inside scoop on characters and storylines from Sex With Strangers? I know you’ll love Sex With Strangers.

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To enjoy on Amazon, click here>>getbook.at/SexWithStrangers

To enjoy on iBooks, Barnes & Noble and other great bookstores, click here>>https://books2read.com/u/4EkM6z

To enjoy on Kobo, click here>>https://www.kobo.com/ebook/sex-with-strangers-13

Audio

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/audiobook/sex-with-strangers-14

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(The Ford Anglia is a rarity among classic cars – it’s immediately recognised all over the world by children and young people, even if it’s as “the Harry Potter car” and not by its given name, writes Adrian Flux on this interesting blog>>https://www.adrianflux.co.uk/cult-classics/ford-anglia-life-before-harry-potter/ I still haven’t read JK Rowling’s books and didn’t know she used this car in her stories. But I do agree, it does have magical powers!).

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Published on June 11, 2020 14:54

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