Say It with Diamonds. Lucy King

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

       Praise for Lucy King

      ‘Simply fabulous! I couldn’t resist

      gobbling up this delicious contemporary romance in a single sitting. Lucy King has created a thoroughly modern and believable character in Emily, and Luke is a gorgeous Alpha male who will make women swoon with delight! Refreshing, romantic and wholly enjoyable, this fabulously uplifting, emotional and captivating tale heralds the start of an exciting new voice in category romance, and I cannot wait to read more sensational romance by the hugely talented Lucy King!’ —www.cataromance.com on Bought: Damsel in Distress

      ‘Fast-paced, sexy, poignant and deliciously

      enjoyable, Propositioned by the Billionaire will go down a treat … the world over— and readers would do well to remember Lucy King’s name because she is a writer destined for greatness!’ —www.cataromance.com on Propositioned by the Billionaire

      About the Author

      LUCY KING spent her formative years lost in the world of Mills & Boon^® romance when she really ought to have been paying attention to her teachers. Up against sparkling heroines, gorgeous heroes and the magic of falling in love, trigonometry and absolute ablatives didn’t stand a chance.

      But as she couldn’t live in a dream world for ever she eventually acquired a degree in languages and an eclectic collection of jobs. A stroll to the River Thames one Saturday morning led her to her very own hero. The minute she laid eyes on the hunky rower getting out of a boat, clad only in Lycra and carrying a three-metre oar as if it was a toothpick, she knew she’d met the man she was going to marry. Luckily the rower thought the same.

      She will always be grateful to whatever it was that made her stop dithering and actually sit down to type Chapter One, because dreaming up her own sparkling heroines and gorgeous heroes is pretty much her idea of the perfect job.

      Originally a Londoner, Lucy now lives in Spain, where she spends much of the time reading, failing to finish cryptic crosswords, and trying to convince herself that lying on the beach really is the best way to work.

      Visit her at www.lucyking.net

       Also by Lucy King

      THE CROWN AFFAIR

      BOUGHT: DAMSEL IN DISTRESS PROPOSITIONED BY THE BILLIONAIRE

       Did you know these are also available as ebooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To Sophie, Robert and Dom—for help with the details

      CHAPTER ONE

      Bella, hon,

      Alex has this friend he’s been doing business with.

      Single … Gorgeous … Clever … Loaded …. And he’s really up for meeting you. I know you’re not keen on blind dates, but I’ve met him and I think he’d be perfect for you. So what do you say?

      x Phoebe

      PS—What are you doing for your birthday?

      HOW long did it take to type ‘Over my dead body’ and ‘Burrowing beneath my duvet’? Bella wondered, re-reading the email that had just landed in her in-box and glancing up at the clock.

      Seeing that she had ten minutes before her two o’clock appointment was due, she swivelled back, shook her head in bemusement, and hit the reply button.

      What planet was Phoebe on? Not keen on blind dates? That was the understatement of the century.

      How could her so-called friend have forgotten the endless nights they’d spent dissecting the disastrous blind dates Bella had been on in the last six months or so?

      How could Phoebe possibly have forgotten about the man who’d showered spittle over her every time he opened his mouth? The man who’d spent the entire evening addressing her cleavage? Or the man who, after insisting they go Dutch at a restaurant he’d invited her to, had got his calculator out to apportion the service charge?

      Clearly Phoebe was so deliriously happy with Alex and so wrapped up in wedding plans that her memory had short-circuited.

      Ignoring the sharp pang of envy at her friend’s whirlwind romance and her subsequent state of bliss, Bella frowned. She was the first to admit she was eager to settle down—spending one’s childhood trailing after a mother who’d had a racy, unstable, and, at one particularly low point, criminal past as well as a morbid fear of stagnating could do that to a woman—but she wasn’t desperate. Or at least not that desperate.

      And frankly, she thought tartly, if this friend of Alex’s was as gorgeous, clever and as rich as Phoebe claimed, why was he still single? What was wrong with him?

      As for celebrating her birthday, well, what was there to celebrate about that?

      Once, when she’d been twenty-five, someone had asked her where she thought she’d be in ten years’ time. She’d blithely replied, saying that on top of the multimillion-pound business, she’d have the husband, the family and the security she’d always longed for. She’d had no doubt whatsoever that it would happen.

      But had it? No. Here she was, about to turn thirty-five and still single, without even a whiff of the boyfriend on the horizon, let alone the peal of wedding bells and the pitter patter of tiny feet. The last thing she wanted was to celebrate her failure on that front.

      Bella resisted the urge to throw herself onto the floor and wail. Where had it all gone wrong? She was reasonably attractive. Interesting. Fun. And not entirely devoid of brain power. So why was she still sitting there, gathering dust, on an increasingly empty shelf?

      It wasn’t even as if she were particularly fussy. She didn’t require a full head of hair or a six-pack in a husband. She didn’t need fireworks and spectacular sex. She didn’t demand five-star holidays or dinners in the finest restaurants the world had to offer.

      All she wanted from a man was a desire to commit. To her. Well, that and an ability to keep bodily functions more or less under control, which possibly did narrow the field somewhat. But was a decent man really too much to ask for?

      Bella sighed, planted her elbows on her desk and stuck her chin in her hands, and considered her position.

      Maybe she was being too fussy. By the time you got to your mid-thirties, single, available men didn’t exactly grow on trees. If you wanted one you had to grasp any opportunity that came your way, and following the recent spate of dating disasters, she had rather opted out of the game.

      So perhaps it wasn’t any wonder that what she’d longed for since she was a teenager

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