Praise for Nicola Marsh
‘Fresh, funny, flirty and feel-good—who can resist one of Nicola Marsh’s delectable category romances? With a fabulously fun heroine, a sexy hero and lashings of witty dialogue, Overtime in the Boss’s Bed is another keeper from the stellar pen of Nicola Marsh!’ —PHS Reviews on Overtime in the Boss’s Bed
‘Nicola Marsh heats up your winter nights with this blazingly sensual tale of lost love, second chances and old secrets! In Marriage: For Business or Pleasure? Nicola Marsh blends hot sensuality with tender romance, witty humour and nail-biting drama, which will keep readers eagerly turning the pages of this spellbinding contemporary romance!’ —PHS Reviews on Marriage: For Business or Pleasure?
‘This lovers-reunited tale is awash in passion, sensuality and plenty of sparks. The terrific characters immediately capture your attention, and from there the pages go flying by.’
—RT Book Reviews on Marriage: For Business or Pleasure?
‘Sterling characters, an exotic setting and crackling sexual tension make for a great read.’
—RT Book Reviews on
A Trip with the Tycoon
About the Author
About Nicola Marsh
NICOLA MARSH has always had a passion for writing and reading. As a youngster she devoured books when she should have been sleeping, and later kept a diary whose content could be an epic in itself! These days, when she’s not enjoying life with her husband and son in her home city of Melbourne, she’s at her computer, creating the romances she loves in her dream job.
Visit Nicola’s website at www.nicolamarsh.com for the latest news of her books.
Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire?
Nicola Marsh
MILLS & BOON
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Also by Nicola Marsh
Girl in a Vintage Dress
Deserted Island, Dreamy Ex!
Wild Nights with her Wicked Boss
Overtime in the Boss’s Bed
Three Times a Bridesmaid …
Marriage: For Business or Pleasure?
A Trip With the Tycoon
Two Weeks in the Magnate’s Bed
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
This one’s for my writing buddies,
Fiona Lowe and Joan Kilby.
Thanks for the camping tips.
If you convinced my hero to give it a go,
there’s hope for me yet!
CHAPTER ONE
‘WE HAVE a problem.’
Four words Rory Devlin did not want to hear—especially at his first Devlin Corp Shareholders’ Ball.
He glanced around the Palladium ballroom, ensuring everyone was engaged in drinking, dining or dancing, with no visible crisis in sight, before acknowledging the waiter hovering at his elbow.
‘What kind of problem?’
The kid, barely out of school, took a backward step and he belatedly remembered to temper his tone. It wasn’t the waiter’s fault he’d been dealing with non-stop hold-ups on the Portsea project all day.
Attending this shindig was the last thing he wanted to do but it had been six months since he’d stepped into the CEO role, six months since he’d tried to rebuild what had once been Australia’s premier property developer, six months of repairing the damage his dad had inflicted.
The waiter glanced over his shoulder and tugged nervously at his bow tie. ‘You better see for yourself.’
Annoyed at the intrusion, he signalled to his deputy, who saluted at his ‘stepping out’ sign, and followed the waiter to a small annexe off the main foyer, where the official launch of the Portsea project would take place in fifteen minutes.
‘She’s in there.’
She?
He took one look inside the annexe and balked.
‘I’ll take it from here,’ he said, and the waiter scuttled away before he’d finished speaking.
Squaring his shoulders, he tugged at the ends of his dinner jacket and strode into the room, eyeballing the problem.
Who eyeballed him back with a defiant tilt of her head, sending loose shoulder-length blond waves tumbling around her heart-shaped face.
She wore a smug smile along with a flimsy blue cocktail dress that matched her eyes.
He hoped the links around her wrists and ankles were the latest eccentric fashion accessory and not what he thought they were: chains anchoring her to the display he had to unveil shortly.
‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m counting on it.’
Her pink-glossed lips compressed as she sized him up, starting at his Italian handmade shoes and sweeping upwards in an all-encompassing stare that made him edgy.
‘Shall we go somewhere and discuss—?’
‘Not
