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      About the Author

      MIRANDA LEE was born in Port Macquarie, a popular seaside town on the mid-north coast of New South Wales, Australia. Her father was a country schoolteacher and brilliant sportsman. Her mother was a talented dressmaker.

      After leaving her convent school, Miranda briefly studied the cello before moving to Sydney, where she embraced the emerging world of computers. Her career as a programmer ended after she married, had three daughters and bought a small acreage in a semi-rural community.

      Miranda attempted greyhound training, as well as horse and goat breeding, but was left dissatisfied. She yearned to find a creative career from which she could earn money. When her sister suggested writing romances, it seemed like a good idea. She could do it at home and it might even be fun!

      It took a decade of trial and error before her first romance, After the Affair, was accepted and published. At that time, Miranda, her husband and her three daughters had moved back to the central coast, where they could enjoy the sun and the surf lifestyle once again.

      Numerous successful stories followed, each embodying Miranda’s trademark style: fast-paced and sexy rhythms; passionate, real-life characters; and enduring, memorable story lines. She has one credo when writing romances: Don’t bore the reader! Millions of fans worldwide agree she never does.

      Dear Reader,

      I have always been a traditionalist when it comes to Christmas. As the youngest child in our family, I was often given the job of decorating the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, which I loved doing. Imagine my horror when one year—I think I was nine—my mother said we weren’t having a tree that year because she was sick of the pine needles dropping all over the floor. As darkness fell that Christmas Eve I was in floods of tears, my noisy sobs accompanied by lots of whingeing and whining. As the slightly spoiled baby in the family, I was an accomplished crier and whiner!

      In the end, my father couldn’t stand it, so he went out into the nearby bush—we lived in the country—and came back with a tree. Well, it wasn’t really a tree, just a branch off a nearby eucalyptus. It was positively ugly but I gave Dad a big hug and decorated it all the same. Needless to say next year we had a proper tree and every year after that. I still can’t bear Christmas without a tree. Just looking at it gives me pleasure and makes me feel happy. I hope you all have a happy Christmas this year. And don’t forget the tree!

      Lots of love,

       Miranda Lee

      CHAPTER ONE

      SEVEN years later …

      A frown formed on Sarah’s forehead as she watched Derek turn from the crowded bar and slowly make his way back to their table, a full champagne glass in each hand.

      In the time it had taken him to be served, she’d begun to worry about having accepted his invitation for a Christmas drink.

      Sarah comforted herself with the thought that in the six months Derek had been her personal trainer, he’d never made a pass, or crossed the line in any way, shape or form.

      But there was a definite twinkle in his eye as he handed her a glass, then sat down with his.

      ‘This is very nice of you,’ she said carefully.

      Sarah’s heart sank when he beamed back at her.

      ‘I am nice,’ he said. ‘And no, I’m not coming on to you.’

      ‘I didn’t think you were,’ she lied before taking a relieved sip of the bubbly.

      ‘Yes, you did.’

      ‘Well …’

      Derek laughed. ‘This is just a little celebratory drink. One you deserve after all your hard work. But do be careful over the Christmas break. I don’t want you coming back to me at the end of January in the same shape you were in six months ago.’

      Sarah pulled a face at the memory. ‘Trust me. I won’t ever let that happen again.’

      ‘Never say never.’

      Sarah shook her head as she put down her glass. ‘I’ve done a lot of thinking while you’ve been working my blubbery butt off these past few months, and I’ve finally come to terms with the reason behind my comfort-eating.’

      ‘So what’s his name?’ Derek asked.

      ‘Who?’

      ‘The reason behind your comfort-eating.’

      Sarah smiled. ‘You’re a very intuitive man.’

      Derek shrugged. ‘Only to be expected. Gay men are very simpatico to matters of the heart.’

      Sarah almost spilled her wine.

      ‘You didn’t suspect at all, did you?’

      Sarah stared across the table at him. ‘Heavens, no!’

      ‘I dislike guys who advertise their sexual preference by being obvious, or overly camp. Other gays sometimes guess, and the odd girl or two.’

      ‘Really?’ Even now that she knew the truth, Sarah couldn’t detect anything obviously gay in Derek. Neither could any of the women who worked out at the gym, if the talk in the female locker room was anything to go by. Most of the girls thought him a hunk.

      Whilst Sarah conceded Derek was attractive—he had nice blue eyes, a great body and a marvellous tan—she’d never been attracted to fair-haired men.

      ‘So now that you know I’m not making a beeline for you,’ Derek went on, ‘how about answering my earlier question? Or do you want to keep your love life a secret?’

      Sarah had to laugh. ‘I don’t have a love life.’