Cruel Angel. Sharon Kendrick
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DEAR READER LETTER
By Sharon Kendrick
One hundred. Doesn’t matter how many times I say it, I still can’t believe that’s how many books I’ve written. It’s a fabulous feeling but more fabulous still is the news that Mills & Boon are issuing every single one of my backlist as digital titles. Wow. I can’t wait to share all my stories with you which are as vivid to me now as when I wrote them.
There’s BOUGHT FOR HER HUSBAND, with its outrageously macho Greek hero and A SCANDAL, A SECRET AND A BABY featuring a very sexy Tuscan. THE SHEIKH’S HEIR proved so popular with readers that it spent two weeks on the USA Today charts and…well, I could go on, but I’ll leave you to discover them for yourselves.
I remember the first line of my very first book: “So you’ve come to Australia looking for a husband?” Actually, the heroine had gone to Australia escape men, but guess what? She found a husband all the same! The man who inspired that book rang me up recently and when I told him I was beginning my 100th story and couldn’t decide what to write, he said, “Why don’t you go back to where it all started?”
So I did. And that’s how A ROYAL VOW OF CONVENIENCE was born. It opens in beautiful Queensland and moves to England and New York. It’s about a runaway princess and the enigmatic billionaire who is infuriated by her, yet who winds up rescuing her. But then, she goes and rescues him… Wouldn’t you know it?
I’ll end by saying how very grateful I am to have a career I love, and to thank each and every one of you who has supported me along the way. You really are very dear readers.
Love,
Sharon xxx
Mills & Boon are proud to present a thrilling digital collection of all Sharon Kendrick’s novels and novellas for us to celebrate the publication of her amazing and awesome 100th book! Sharon is known worldwide for her likeable, spirited heroines and her gorgeous, utterly masculine heroes.
SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition, describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon, featuring her often stubborn but always to-die-for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life…
“Such a disappointing greeting for your husband,”
he murmured.“I had hoped for something a little more—familiar.”
The way he said the word made it sound like an insult, and yet the lilting Italian accent sent a shiver of graphic remembrance through her in spite of herself.“You are my husband in name only,” she stated.“We have been separated for over two years, and legally that means I am now free to seek a divorce. Surely you realize that, Stefano?”
There was a spark of anger in the dark, glittering eyes, but it was gone in seconds.“I realize it only too well, cara,” he said.“But as you know, divorce means nothing to me. In the eyes of the church, and in—” he dropped his voice to a velvety whisper “—my eyes, we will always be man and wife, with all the endless and delightful possibilities that the state of matrimony offers.”
Cruel Angel
Sharon Kendrick
CONTENTS
‘TWO minutes, Miss Carter.’
Cressida nervously smoothed clammy palms down her naked thighs, wishing that she could dispel her nerves.
Her costume didn’t help, of course. The play was set in the late nineteen-fifties, the action taking place in a beach house, and for a large chunk of the time Cressida wore a swimsuit. True, with its ruched skirt, and its fairly innocuous wired bodice, it was hardly shocking, and, compared to some of the outfits you saw on the high street, positively innocent. But Cressida knew that there was something about seeing a partially clad woman on stage which drew far more attention than someone wearing something scanty in the street. It had been one of the first things she’d learnt at drama school—how the stage exaggerated, and gave emphasis—not just to emotions, but to costumes and scenery, too.
‘You’re on, Miss Carter.’
Her pulses were weak and flying, her heart hammering in her chest. She was paralysed. She would never move again from this spot. And then she heard her cue line, and she ran lightly on to stage right.
It was the pivotal moment of the play . . . the one where she discovered her husband’s infidelity. Adrian, the actor playing her husband, was engrossed in a letter, but the sound of her footsteps disturbed him. He was to turn to her, and their eyes were to meet, and her expression was meant to convey the sudden realisation of the extent of his betrayal.
It was a difficult scene at the best of times, but today, in this stiflingly tense atmosphere, it needed every ounce of her professional skills to inject all the meaning which the playwright demanded. Just what was this tension? she wondered. She could almost smell it in the air, could feel it surrounding her like a heavy cloud, reminiscent of the charged, expectant