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      All about the author…

       Chantelle Shaw

      CHANTELLE SHAW lives on the Kent coast, five minutes from the sea, and does much of her thinking about the characters in her books while walking on the beach. An avid reader from an early age, school friends used to hide their books when she visited, but Chantelle would retreat into her own world, and she still writes “stories” in her head all the time. Chantelle has been blissfully married to her own tall, dark and very patient hero for over twenty years and has six children. She began to read Mills & Boon as a teenager and throughout the years of being a stay-at-home mom to her brood, she found romantic fiction helped her to stay sane! Her aim is to write books that provide an element of escapism, fun and, of course, romance for the countless women who juggle work and a homelife and who need their precious moments of “me” time. She enjoys reading and writing about strong willed, feisty women and even stronger-willed sexy heroes. Chantelle is at her happiest when writing. She is particularly inspired while cooking dinner, which unfortunately results in a lot of culinary disasters! She also loves gardening, taking her very badly behaved terrier for walks and eating chocolate (followed by more walking—at least the dog is slim!).

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘THE traffic ahead appears to be gridlocked, Mr Morrell. Do you want me to try and turn off?’

      ‘No, I’ll walk from here. See if you can pull over, Barton.’ Alex Morrell snapped his briefcase shut and punched the number of his office into his mobile phone. ‘Margaret, I’m caught in traffic. Can you check that the Danson notes are complete? I’ll need them for court tomorrow. Ask the temp to type up anything that’s outstanding.’

      There was a brief silence before his personal assistant Margaret Rivers murmured, ‘She’s not actually here yet, but as soon as she arrives…’

      ‘It’s ten past nine,’ Alex snapped irritably, and then caught sight of the teeming London traffic and sighed. Maybe his new temporary assistant had a legitimate excuse, but it was not a promising start.

      ‘Looks as though it might rain,’ the chauffeur, Barton, noted with a glance at the heavy October sky. But Alex was impatient. He hated inactivity, and the risk of getting caught in a shower was better than sitting in the car.

      He had only been walking for a few minutes when the first spots of rain turned into a deluge and he was forced to dive into the doorway of a coffee shop, colliding with a young woman who had obviously had the same idea.

      ‘Damn! Damn! Damn!’ She skidded to a halt in front of him and he flung out an arm to prevent her from falling. Hairpins scattered in all directions and her once neat chignon gave up and unravelled in a stream of amber silk around her face. ‘If only I’d obeyed Ten Tips on How to Survive Your First Day before I set out this morning,’ she said miserably, waving a bedraggled magazine under his nose. ‘Tip four is to remember an umbrella.’

      ‘What’s tip one?’ he enquired, unable to tear his gaze from her face, and enormous grey eyes blinked at him solemnly, dragging him under so that he felt, quite literally, as if he was drowning.

      ‘Ensure that you arrive in plenty of time—and I’m horribly late. Do you know, the 8.05 was cancelled for no reason? Well, no reason that I could see,’ she added, and Alex felt his lips twitch.

      She was beautiful—exquisitely so, he acknowledged, taken aback by his reaction to her. He had met many beautiful women in his life—indeed, he was a connoisseur of tall, lissom blondes—but there was something about this woman, the curve of her cheekbones and her full, soft mouth, that sent a jolt of unwarranted desire through his body. She was slender, and so petite that the top of her head was on a level with his chest. She looked vulnerable, but in his experience women were far tougher than they looked, and it was likely that the delicate woman staring up at him was no different.

      ‘I’m sure your boss will understand that you have no power over London Transport,’ he murmured soothingly, but she shook her head again, so that her hair flashed like a bright halo round her face.

      ‘I wouldn’t

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