has a stellar record of achievement within thepublishing 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.
‘I THINK that’s all for today, Jaime.’ Felix Haines got up from his desk to flex his aching shoulder muscles, grimacing when he saw his secretary’s sympathetic smile. ‘You can laugh,’ he added, ‘but playing squash twice a week is going to do me good. As soon as I master it, that is.’
‘So long as it doesn’t master you first,’ responded Jaime drily, folding her shorthand notebook, and slipping her pencil into the metal spiral that secured the pages. ‘Honestly, I can’t see the sense of beating yourself to death just to prove you’re still active! I’m sure you’d find it simpler to join a golf club.’
‘Perhaps so.’ Felix was a little irritable. ‘But Lacey would think I was taking the easy way out—and I would be. As she says, forty-six isn’t old. I’ve just let myself get lazy, that’s all.’
Jaime reserved judgement on Lacey Haines’s opinion. Since she’d broken up Felix’s first marriage, and married him herself eighteen months ago, Lacey seemed bent on changing him from the easygoing middle-aged man she claimed she had fallen in love with to one of those ultrafit sporting types you frequently saw on television. Men with trim figures, and sharp, hungry faces, men who Jaime privately thought were striving desperately to hang on to their youth. Talk about women being the vainer sex, she mused, watching Felix, as he endeavoured to throw off the stiffness of over-worked muscles. Still, Lacey was more than fifteen years his junior, so perhaps he felt compelled to make the effort.
‘Haven’t you ever thought of joining a keep-fit group?’ Felix asked now, as Jaime rose from her seat and began walking towards the door that led into her office. ‘Lacey goes to an aerobics class every Wednesday. You should join her.’
‘Oh, I—don’t think so,’ said Jaime finally, softening her refusal with a rueful smile. She could almost hear Lacey’s reaction to a suggestion like that. Lacey had never forgiven her for taking Margaret Haines’s side during the divorce proceedings, and if there had been any way she could have persuaded Felix to find another secretary she would have done it. But happily for Jaime, Felix was fond of her, and their twelve-year partnership had stood the test. ‘I—er—I don’t really have that much time,’ Jaime appended now, realising belatedly that Felix might misunderstand her motives. ‘I mean—what with Tom, and everything. I—just never seem to have a moment to myself.’
Felix regarded her a little dourly now. ‘You don’t like Lacey, do you?’ he exclaimed, out of the blue. ‘Oh—–’ he lifted a hand to silence her, as she opened her mouth to protest ‘—you don’t have to say anything. I know. I’m not entirely without perception, Jaime, whatever you think. I just wish it weren’t so.’
Jaime’s tongue circled her lips. ‘Felix, I—–’
‘You still see Maggie, don’t you?’
‘Occasionally.’ Jaime nodded.
‘And she’s poisoned your mind about Lacey, I suppose.’
‘No!’ Jaime was dismayed. ‘We never discuss your marriage, Felix.’
He snorted then. ‘Do you expect me to believe that?’
Jaime stiffened. ‘I think you flatter yourself, Mr Haines,’ she retorted, reaching for the handle of the door. ‘If that’s all—–’
‘Oh, Jaime!’ Felix sighed and came towards her, shaking his head. ‘Don’t look at me like that. All right. Perhaps I was out of line in suggesting you and Maggie spend your time pulling me to pieces. But you have to admit, it’s not unreasonable to assume my name is mentioned!’
Jaime hesitated. ‘Felix, my associating with Lacey—or rather the lack of it—has nothing to do with your ex-wife. Lacey and I just don’t—get on. It’s as simple as that. I’m sure, if you asked her, she’d say the same.’
Felix frowned. ‘I suppose you know she’s jealous of you.’
‘Jealous of me?’ Jaime was staggered. ‘You’re not serious!’
‘I am.’ Felix pushed his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked back on his heels. ‘You’re a beautiful woman. I’ve always thought so. And—who knows?—if you’d ever given me the slightest encouragement—–’
‘Felix!’ Jaime stopped him there. She couldn’t believe this conversation was actually happening, and she had no wish to complicate an already difficult situation. ‘I think I’d better go…’
‘Oh, don’t worry.’ Felix was amazingly casual about it. ‘It’s a few years now since I got over my infatuation. You made it abundantly clear, consciously or otherwise, that you weren’t interested. Not in so many words, perhaps. But subtly. When you told me about Tom’s father, for instance.’
Jaime felt as if she was totally out of her depth here. ‘Felix, I told you about Tom’s father because—–’
‘I know. To explain that Tom wasn’t
