Strange Intimacy. Anne Mather

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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.

      Strange Intimacy

       Anne Mather

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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       Table of Contents

       Cover

       About the Author

       Title Page

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      ISOBEL wasn’t precisely sure when she decided she had made a mistake.

      She had had doubts in the beginning, of course. But she had managed to dismiss them as cold feet. It was quite a step, moving from the familiar surroundings of the flat in Earl’s Court to the Highlands of Scotland. Even if she was going at the invitation of a friend. Even if there was a job waiting for her, and a comfortable house, into the bargain.

      Cory thought she was mad. And perhaps, without her daughter’s constant carping, Isobel might have thought so, too. But, contrary to popular opinion, Cory’s attitude had only served to convince her she was doing the right thing. Anything that would remove her thirteen-year-old daughter from the unhealthy influences of the crowd she was running around with at school couldn’t be all bad.

      Nevertheless, Isobel had faced the prospect of the move with some trepidation. In fact, since Edward passed away, she had faced most problems that way. For so long, he had insisted on making any decisions for her, and uprooting herself and Cory from the only home her daughter had ever known was quite an undertaking.

      But then, no one had expected Edward to die. At forty-five, he had many years ahead of him, she had assumed. He hadn’t been a drinker; he hadn’t smoked; he had been a pillar of the community. And his mother had pronounced—without hesitation, when Isobel had first broached the possibility of their moving to Scotland—that it was a pity she, Isobel, hadn’t been driving, when the jack-knifing wagon had smashed through the barrier on the M25, killing Edward, but leaving Isobel with only minor cuts and bruises. After all, Edward

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