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
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
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
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 get attention.
‘Try to remember, it is Christmas.’ Brie shimmied into a short mulberry all-in-one playsuit with a fur-trim neckline then tossed Olivia a white feather boa. ‘Here. It’ll put you in the mood.’
Olivia’s lips twitched as she slung the silky feathers around her neck. ‘I assume you’re referring to the festive mood.’
‘That’d be a start,’ Brie suggested, brightly.
Raising the Pink Snowflake Foundation’s profile was the reason for Olivia’s entry into the race. Being invited by yachting royalty to celebrate the festive season at the mega-million-dollar mansion overlooking Sydney Harbour was a bonus, but anything else...well, it wasn’t going to happen.
Brie unravelled a luscious strand of silver tinsel. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind if Jett shares our suite?’ she asked for the umpteenth time.
‘This mysterious brother you’ve managed to keep out of the way for— How long’s it been?’ Stepping into red stiletto sandals, Olivia reassured her, ‘I told you I don’t mind. I’m