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Mistletoe Not Required. Anne OliverЧитать онлайн книгу.

Mistletoe Not Required - Anne Oliver


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      Then as if fate stepped in, her eyes snagged on the lower half of a man descending from a pretty spiral staircase that she’d not noticed earlier.

      Even if men weren’t a priority for Olivia, a little blip of pleasure registered on her radar. Black-trouserscovered legs that went all the way up—and up—the fabric lovingly clasped around muscled thighs, a firm, rounded, super-hero-in-tights butt. Nice.

      A girl deserved a little lust blip every now and then and this blip was brightening by the second.

      His gaze met hers as if she’d summoned him to look her way. And he didn’t look pleased about that. His eyebrows lowered, his mouth firmed and a muscle clenched in his jaw.

      Steely black eyes with the power to tempt. To persuade. A shiver rippled down her spine. The power to take her will and flex it between his long slender fingers like so much overcooked spaghetti.

      And Olivia felt hot, like she did when standing on the steaming deck of her yacht on a mid-summer’s day in Barbados. In the eye of a tropical storm even, because her usually strong sea legs were wobbly.

      She was still looking at him and he was still looking at her and she swore she saw him mouth, ‘Trouble’.

      Praise for Anne Oliver

      ‘This sweet and sexy story has engaging characters

      that will captivate readers from the very first page.’

      —RT Book Reviews on There’s Something About a Rebel

      ‘Quick paced, this story has a sensitive hero that readers

      will easily fall in love with.’

      —RT Book Reviews on Her Not-So-Secret Diary

      ‘This attraction-at-first-sight story has just the

      right blend of adventure, passion and heartfelt

      emotion to make you want to spend time

      with this terrific twosome.’

      —RT Book Reviews on Hot Boss, Wicked Nights

      Mistletoe

      Not Required

      Anne Oliver

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      ANNE OLIVER was born in Adelaide, South Australia, with its beautiful hills, beaches and easy lifestyle. She’s never left.

      An avid reader of romance, Anne began creating her own paranormal and time travel adventures in 1998, before turning to contemporary romance. Then it happened—she was accepted by Mills & Boon in December 2005. Almost as exciting, her first two published novels won the Romance Writers of Australia’s Romantic Book of the Year for 2007 and 2008. So, after nearly thirty years of yard duties and staff meetings, she gave up teaching to do what she loves most—writing full time.

      Other interests include animal welfare and conservation, quilting, astronomy, all things Scottish, and eating anything she doesn’t have to cook. She’s travelled to Papua New Guinea, the west coast of America, Hong Kong, Malaysia, the UK and Holland.

      Sharing her characters’ journeys with readers all over the world is a privilege and a dream come true. You can visit her website at www.anne-oliver.com.

       This and other titles by Anne Oliver are available in eBook format—check out www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      This book is dedicated to anyone whose lives have been

      touched by breast cancer—mums, daughters, sisters,

      aunts, grandmothers. And the men who support them.

      That’s pretty much everyone really.

      With thanks to Wendy for making my time in

      beautiful Tasmania even more enjoyable.

      With thanks to my editor, Suzanne Clarke, for

      putting in the hard work on my hero.

      Contents

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Epilogue

      ONE

      Olivia Wishart slicked ruby gloss on her lips, then checked her strapless cocktail dress in the mirror and frowned. ‘Red lips, red dress, red hair.’ She reached for her standby little black dress. ‘I don’t care if everyone’s decked to the halls in Christmas finery, it’s—’

      ‘Lovely, but not for tonight.’ Her best friend, Breanna Black, whipped the garment from her hand. ‘And not another word—you look sensational.’ She eyed the cleavage on display and nodded. ‘Wise choice—men will look.’

      ‘So long as they listen.’ Olivia wasn’t a fancy dress fan but the opportunity to talk up her charity to her fellow competitors in this year’s Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race was too good to pass up. And a little flesh never failed to


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