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  • Home
  • BOOKS
    • Fake Engagement with the Billionaire
    • Whirlwind Fling to Baby Bombshell
    • The Wedding Favour
    • The Millionaire's Melbourne Proposal
    • Dream Vacation, Surprise Baby
    • Brooding Rebel to Babby Daddy
    • Crazy About Her Impossible Boss
    • A Week with the Best Man
    • Hired by the Mysterious Millionaire
    • Amber and the Rogue Prince
    • Rescuing the Royal Runaway Bride
    • Kiss Me Quick
    • Love Me Tender
    • Tell Me True
    • Resisting the Musician
  • BIO
  • APPEARANCES
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    • "The Dance"
    • "If Music Be the Food of Love"
    • "Mental Sorbet"
  • CONTACT
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​From young, free and single…

…to pregnancy shock!

A “gifted” dream holiday is Aubrey Truesdale’s perfect chance to seize back her life after a near-fatal illness.

In Florence, Michelangelo’s
David impresses her, but the gorgeous Aussie standing beside her is something else!

​Millionaire Sean Malone is so compellingly her opposite, Aubrey can’t resist falling into a crazy holiday fling with him…except Sean’s past makes him as unprepared as she is for their resulting baby bombshell! 
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Amazon  | Amazon (UK) | Amazon (Aus)  |  iBooks   |  Harlequin |  Goodreads
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Aubrey Trusedale had imagined this very moment—meeting him for the first time—more times than she could count.

She’d known her fingers would tingle as they did now, imagining how he’d feel to touch. Her blood rushing heedlessly around her body. Heart skittering in her chest. Spotting him across the crowded room; his size, his infamy, his sheer masculine beauty taking her breath fair away.

At over five metres tall, all marble, muscle and might, the David did not disappoint.

After around her seventeenth sigh, Aubrey glanced behind her to find the tour group who’d been milling about when she’d arrived had moved on.

Leaving her alone.

With him.

Growing up, her three older brothers had had pictures of cars tacked to their bedroom walls. While she’d had notes, sketches, and printouts depicting paintings by Monet and Waterhouse.

But the poster of the David had had pride of place right over her bed.

Yep. A naked man on her wall. Among her mates, it had been quite the coup.

Now, he was so close. This infamous study of the male form: shadows, indents, veins, muscles, strength, shape… He was honestly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. If she fell down dead, right here, she’d die happy.

Not that she planned to fall down dead. A lot of clever people had spent the past two years of her life making sure that would not happen any time soon. So, she was pretty determined to stick it out.
Aubrey took a step closer. And another. Till she was all but leaning over the surprisingly small barrier. It wouldn’t take much to reach out and touch--

She curled her fingers into her palms.

The number one rule in these places was no touching. Longevity, future generations and all that. But the guy had survived outdoors for nearly four hundred years before he was moved into this space.

Would he feel cold? Rough? Dry? Surely a fingertip couldn’t hurt. Maybe a gentle sweep of her palm over his--

She glanced over her shoulder to see Mario the security guard strolling by. Heat creeping into her cheeks, she gave him a wave.

. . .

Realising she was on her tippy toes, Aubrey let herself sway back onto her heels. Consoling herself with the knowledge that the air she breathed had wafted over the David. It was enough. Unless she planned to be arrested for fondling a priceless piece of art before being extradited home on day one of her magical fantasy trip, it had to be.

A couple came into the room, took one look at the David, and kept walking. Philistines.

Knowing her one-on-one time with the love of her life was too good to last, Aubrey plonked herself down on the floor, stretched open her backpack, pulled out a sketch pad and the stub of a fine charcoal pencil, looked back up at the David, and breathed.

Which bit to sketch first? That dashing profile? The whorl of his ear? His foot—the one that had lost a toe when some crazy had chopped it off with a hammer?

The hand.

It was his fault she’d always had a thing for hands. Strong hands. With veins and scars and strength and a story.

Aubrey stared at the David’s hand for another few seconds before putting pencil to paper. With a sweep of charcoal across the page, there was no going back.

. . .

“I don’t know about you,” a deep, male voice said from behind her, “but he’s always bigger than I think he’ll be.”

Aubrey flinched and the charcoal slipped, leaving a bold black streak right across the page.

“Well, poo,” she said.

“Whoa, sorry,” the voice said. Australian, she realised. How funny was that?

Aubrey shrugged. Mishaps were a part of the story. They did not define it. “No worries. It’s hardly a Rembrandt.”

Shadow fell over her as the owner of the voice moved in, blocking the light pouring into the room from the huge glass dome above as he looked over her shoulder. “No,” he said. “But it’s damn good.”

Aubrey held onto her hat and turned. Looked up. And…hot damn.

Talk about bigger than you expected! It was difficult not to gawp. For the man was tall. Built. Dark chocolate hair raked into devastatingly sexy spikes. Sunglasses hooked into the collar of his pale grey T-shirt that did little to hide the shape beneath. The man behind the voice was handsome enough to have her blush, just a little, as big, handsome guys always had.

“Thanks,” she said with a quick smile, shoving her stuff back in her vintage backpack, yanking the frayed leather strap around the opening to tighten it up. She slung it over her shoulder and got back to her feet as gracefully as possible, which in short overalls and floppy sandals wasn’t graceful at all.

“You sketch the big guy a lot?” asked Mr Tall Dark and Aussie, his gaze roaming around the big room.

He’d moved away again. Not crowding her. Handsome and thoughtful, she thought. Nice. Nice and big and beautiful, with a nose Michelangelo would have wept over, a hard jawline, and lips she’d kill to sketch.

“First time,” she said, blinking ten to the dozen when his gaze moved back her way. “But it won’t be the last, I hope. He’s magnificent. Bucket-list stuff, right there.”

“Hmm,” the stranger hummed. The deep sound seeming to reverberate through Aubrey’s chest.
“You don’t agree?”

“Me? No. He’s…fine.”

Aubrey tried not to sputter. “Fine? He’s perfection.”

That earned her a raised eyebrow. If anything, it made the stranger even more ridiculously gorgeous. Her toes curled into her sandals.

“Marble’s not my medium,” he said, his gaze on the statue looming anciently over them.

“What is?”

“Wood.”

At that, Aubrey tried not to look at David’s bits. She really did. But with the stranger’s declaration bouncing about inside her head, and David’s bits staring back at her three times normal size… She was only human.
“Intimidated?” she asked, her cheeks tugging into a smile.

There was a moment, a beat that felt like a thud deep inside her chest, before his eyes narrowed. Then he lifted his chin and said, “Nah.”

“Ha!”

At her bark of laughter, he swung his eyes her way. And the last of her breath left her lungs in a whoosh. His eyes were ridiculous. Deep blue, and dark and mysterious, like a river at night. Eyes a girl could drown in.
She’d use a well-sharpened pencil if she sketched him. Or a fine black pen. She’d need to get the sweep of each individual eyelash just right. The defined angle of his jaw. The chiselled curve of that seriously enticing mouth.

And those eyes, the flash of blue that might well turn a piercing aquamarine out in the sunshine, the thought of studying them enough to do them justice, made her feel light in the head.

. . .

She held out a hand to the most beautiful—flesh and blood—man she had ever seen and said, “Aubrey Trusedale. Of Sydney.”

A beat later, he took it. Said, “Malone. Sean Malone.” No qualification as to where he’d hailed from.

Melbourne
, she thought, taking in the cut of his clothes. The effortless style. Definitely Melbourne.

Taking a pause seemed to be a thing for him. A moment in which to make a decision. Find the most famous statue of a naked man in the world intimidating, or not. Talk to the strange girl, or not.

When the heat from Sean Malone’s hand spread into hers, the unexpected calluses on the pads of his palms rubbing against the matching ones on hers, she smiled. And meant it.

“I’m very glad to have met you, Malone.”
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Amazon  | Amazon (UK) | Amazon (Aus)  |  iBooks   |  Harlequin |  Goodreads
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M O R E   B O O K S
B I L L I O N - D O L L A R   B A C H E L O R   S E R I E S
WHIRLWIND FLING TO BABY BOMBSHELL
FAKE ENGAGEMENT WITH THE BILLIONAIRE (coming soon)
CINDERELLA ASSISTANT TO BOSS'S BRIDE  (coming soon)



R E C E N T   R E L E A S E S
THE WEDDING FAVOUR
THE MILLIONAIRE'S MELBOURNE PROPOSAL 



B A C K L I S T
DREAM VACATION, SURPRISE BABY
BROODING REBEL TO BABY DADDY
CRAZY ABOUT HER IMPOSSIBLE BOSS
A WEEK WITH THE BEST MAN
HIRED BY THE MYSTERIOUS MILLIONAIRE
AMBER AND THE ROGUE PRINCE
RESCUING THE ROYAL RUNAWAY BRIDE
TELL ME TRUE
LOVE ME TENDER
RESISTING THE MUSICIAN
KISS ME QUICK
HER HOTTEST SUMMER YET
THE DANCE OFF
FAKING IT TO MAKING IT
THE SECRET WEDDING DRESS
50 DAYS WITH ROSE
PIPPA BARED ALL
THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
THE WEDDING DATE/THE ROGUE WEDDING GUEST
MILLIONAIRE DAD'S SOS
GETTING RED-HOT WITH THE ROGUE
DATING THE REBEL TYCOON  
A NIGHT WITH THE SOCIETY PLAYBOY
THE MAGNATE'S INDECENT PROPOSAL
STEAMY SURRENDER  (Encore coming soon!)
GETTING DOWN TO BUSINESS  (Encore coming soon!)

HIRED: THE BOSS'S BRIDE  
FALLING FOR THE REBEL HEIR  (Encore coming soon!)
MILLIONAIRE TO THE RESCUE (Encore coming soon!) 
 
BILLIONAIRE ON HER DOORSTEP  
MEANT-TO-BE MOTHER  
WANTED: OUTBACK WIFE  
A FATHER IN THE MAKING  
THE SHOCK ENGAGEMENT  
A MOTHER FOR HIS DAUGHTER  
HOW TO MARRY A BILLIONAIRE  
MARRIAGE MAKEOVER  
MARRIAGE MATERIAL  
THE WEDDING WISH  

F R E E   R E A D
SUMMER LOVIN’
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