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Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous
collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author ANNE MATHER
Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the
publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.
This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance
for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful, passionate writing has given.
We are sure you will love them all!
I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun— staggered by what’s happened.
I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.
These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.
We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.
Legend of Lexandros
Anne Mather
Table of Contents
DALLAS let herself into the flat, juggling with her key, her handbag, and a pile of exercise books which she had brought home for marking. She allowed the books to cascade on to the table in the minute entrance hall of the flat, and pushing open the lounge door, called:
‘Jane! I’m home. Are you in?’
There was no reply, and Dallas glanced at her watch thoughtfully. It was already quarter to six, and as Jane’s office closed at five o’clock, that could only mean one thing. Paris Stavros was bringing her home, and they had made a detour on the way.
Dallas sighed heavily, and removing her sheepskin coat she flung it wearily over an armchair. Then, determinedly straightening her shoulders, she walked through to the kitchen to prepare their evening meal. Chops were sizzling appetisingly under the grill when she heard the door open, and Jane came into the lounge humming cheerfully to herself. Dallas walked to the kitchen door and looked at her sister questioningly. ‘You’re late.’
Jane nodded. ‘Paris brought me home. We called at Joe’s.’
‘I thought so.’ Dallas nodded, and turned back to attend to the potatoes she was frying. ‘Are you going out this evening?’
Jane had walked into the bedroom. It was a small flat with only one bedroom which they shared. Now she came to the bedroom door, and called:
‘Yes, I am. Why? Have you any objections?’ Her tone was sarcastic.
Dallas made a helpless movement. ‘Only the usual ones,’ she replied, and waited for the explosion. As usual she was not disappointed.
Jane stormed into the kitchen, ‘Honestly, Dallas, you infuriate me! This is the third time this week. You simply won’t believe that Paris loves me, will you?’
‘Frankly … no.’ Dallas applied the opener to a can of peas with some savagery. ‘I may be foolish and old-fashioned, Jane, but I can’t really see the only son of the owner of the worldwide Stavros Shipping Line falling for a … well, for a typist like you. Particularly one who works in his father’s London branch office!’
Jane’s cheeks were scarlet now. ‘What were you about to call me? A nonentity, perhaps?’
Dallas shrugged. ‘Well, it’s true, isn’t it? I mean, be honest with yourself, Jane, just for once. You’re no oil painting, and you haven’t a penny to your name. Why should he be interested in you when he can have his pick of practically any girl both here and in his native Greece! He only wants you for kicks, Jane, and the sooner you realise it the better. Once you begin to bore him, it will all be over. I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.’
‘You
