“Perhaps it’s time I told you exactly
whom I have in mind for this relationship.”
Claire unconsciously straightened. “Please do.”
“You, Claire,” Nicholas said, “happen to be the only woman I can imagine filling the role of my wife.”
“You can?” She tried to clear the croak out of her throat. “Um, that is, you can?”
He nodded. “You keep a cool head. You look at things in a sensible manner. Business partnerships thrive on sensible, unemotional standards, and so will the kind of marriage I have in mind.”
From city girl—to corporate wife!
They’re working side by side, nine to five….
But no matter how hard these couples try to keep their relationships strictly professional, romance is undeniably on the agenda!
But will a date in the office diary lead to
an appointment at the altar?
Find out in this exciting miniseries.
If you love office romance stories—
BUSINESS-ARRANGEMENT BRIDE by Jessica Hart #3917
The Boss’s Convenient Bride
Jennie Adams
JENNIE ADAMS
From an early age, Australian author Jennie Adams was most at home perched on a gatepost on the family farm, with her nose in a book. Her love of reading expanded into writing at age eleven, when she began a four-year tenure as a very bad poet. A gap followed while Jennie pursued a number of careers. Bank officer, piano teacher and legal secretary to name a few. She met and married the love of her life, and had two children—who soon became teenagers who knew everything, and who are now the two most treasured young adults in her life. She then realized she wanted to write the romance novels she loved to read. The pursuit of that dream eventually led to the sale of her first Harlequin® novel, THE BOSS’S CONVENIENT BRIDE.
This is Jennie’s first novel!
Other Novel by Jennie
HER MILLIONAIRE BOSS #1835
For my cherished friend Bronwyn.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
‘I’M THIRTY-TWO years old, and tired of being fêted and pursued as one of Sydney’s most eligible bachelors.’ Nicholas Monroe, millionaire owner and boss of Monroe Global Security Systems, leaned back in the leather desk chair and crossed his suit-clad arms.
His gaze was sharp, direct and controlled, save for a very mild hint of irritation Claire would have missed if she hadn’t come to know the enigmatic face so well in the past six months.
‘I can see how that could become wearying after a while.’ Claire’s imagination went into overdrive, conjuring situations he might have endured. ‘All those women jumping out from behind pot plants to accost you, telling you they want to have your babies—and all for the sake of your money, really. Not that I’m saying you aren’t appealing in your own right.’
She smoothed her chainstore pleated skirt across her knees, and hoped the pulse that beat at the base of her throat wasn’t visible beneath the crisp white blouse.
He was attractive, all right. Far beyond what was fair and reasonable in her opinion. All dark hair, tanned skin, and interesting angles to blend with the deep, velvety voice. He even smelled good, in a way that made her want to bury her face in him and just breathe him in for the next century or three.
The thought caused a familiar little catch in her chest, right about where her heart was located.
‘There haven’t been hordes of pot-plant-hiding females.’ His mouth curved. ‘But I’ve had my share of unwanted attention. And, contrary to what the media seems to believe, I really don’t enjoy having my name on every Top Ten Bachelor list in existence. Frankly, it’s an annoyance I could do without.’
‘Especially as you move into this new, more settled phase of life that you want.’
Claire hoped she looked and sounded intelligent, understanding, enlightened. Anything other than completely oblivious as to where he was headed with this conversation and wholly besotted by him into the bargain.
Aside from all the happy-fuzzy feeling he brought out in her, she struggled just to ignore the way his shirt stretched across his muscled chest. Which probably made her as bad as all those pot-plant-hiding women.
To have muscles like that, he had to work out regularly. She pictured him sleek with perspiration, doing bench presses in some trendy city gym, and stifled a groan.
‘Do
