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Check out the book's reviews,  or devour a juicy excerpt...















««««1/2 CataRomance

LOVED IT!! ‘A Mother for his Daughter’ is a classy, elegant, enjoyable read that delights the senses.   Luca is appealing, sexy and quite a catch! Gracie is warm, bubbly and has a wonderful turn of phrase that warms the heart. The  characters will crawl into a corner of your heart and stay there. Excellent work.




«««« Romantic Times

Ally Blake's A Mother for His Daughter (4) has a strong story, a gorgeous setting and a hero who could tempt almost any woman..





"I recently read Ally Blake’s ‘A Mother for His Daughter’ and I really enjoyed the feel for Italy since I’ve envisioned visiting it."


Jennifer on CataRomance











 Check out my article about  the inspiration behind this book!  About my trip to Italy, and how Gracie and Luca came to be cast in my head.



































































- NORTH AMERICA December 2006 -




- UNITED KINGDOM  May 2005 -



- AUSTRALIA / NZ April 2005 -





A marriage proposal - for the sake of a little girl?


Just as Gracie had run out of money and was about to book her flight home to Australia, she'd been rescued!  A gorgeous Italian had hired her to live in his magnificent Tuscan home and be nanny to his little girl!


Luca was just as thrilled - for the first time since he'd lost his wife the new nanny had brought smiles and laughter back into his little daughter's life.  He didn't want Gracie to ever leave, so he had a proposal for her: would she his wife?


It was the hardest decision of Gracie's life.  She loved both Luca and Mila - but was Luca proposing because he loved her...or because he just wanted a mother for his daughter...? 


Gracie Lane was in Rome looking for a man.  And not just any man.  Her father.

  Peering into the mystical waters of the Trevi Fountain, she blinked dry tired eyes.  She had half-heartedly thrown one coin already.  According to the local myth, she would now one day return to the eternal city.

A second coin now warmed her palm.  The second coin was the important coin.  The second coin was the wish coin.  Searching for her father on her own had produced no results and the Australian embassy had not come back with anything helpful, so a wish seemed to be her only remaining hope.

‘I wish to find Antonio Graziano,’ Gracie said aloud, hoping with all of her might that somehow this enchanted old fountain would be able to help.  She turned, tossed the coin over her left shoulder, and listened for the soft fateful splash.

But the statue of Neptune looked down on her, benign as he ever was, and unless he had come to life a quarter century before and had a fling with her then nineteen-year-old mother, her last ditch desperate wish had not produced instant results.

Gracie managed a flickering smile at the thought, even though it meant there was nowhere else to turn.  She was down to her last several Euro in the bank, she was paid up in her hostel for only one more night, and her wallet held little more than the return train ticket from Termini Station to the Leonardo da Vinci Airport.  She had very little choice other than to make a phone call to the airline in order to use her open-ended ticket to book a flight home the next day.

She slumped down onto the low concrete wall with her back to the fountain.  She was so exhausted her limbs ached, her heart ached, even her hair ached.

But it was not enough to make her cry.  The ability had abandoned her.  And right when she needed it most.  Since that dreaded phone call from her stepfather, she had not cried once.  She hadn’t had the chance.  She had had to be brave for those around her.  For her distraught step-father, for her much younger half-sister and half-brother.  For her best friends.

But in Rome she was alone.  She didn’t have to be brave for anyone but herself, and still she could not enjoy the release that came with a good cry.  She covered her face with her hands and willed it to happen.

Success eluded her.

Then she felt a tiny hand clasp her denim-clad knee.  Suspecting one of the many beggars prowling the area for spare change and open handbags, Gracie jumped out of her skin.  When her backside landed back upon the concrete wall, she found herself face to face not with a beggar but with a little girl in designer clothes.

Gracie rubbed a hand over her aching face and sat up straight.  It was like looking at a picture of herself at that age; creamy fair skin, glossy dark curls, serious dark blue eyes, except Gracie had telltale Australian freckles across her nose and cheeks.  Freckles she had proudly cultivated as a child as they were the one feature that linked her to her lanky blonde suntanned school friends.

‘Hello, sweetie,’ she said once she located her voice.

After a brief moment in which the little girl assimilated the English word, she said, ‘Hello,’ also in English but with a thick Italian accent.  ‘My name is Mila.’

‘Pleased to meet you Mila.  I’m Gracie.’

Mila was not smiling, nor frowning, just watching Gracie with her head tipped to one side.  ‘Are you OK?’

Gracie cracked an unexpected grin.  But there was nothing to be gained from confiding in the little girl.  ‘Sure, I’m OK.  Thank-you for asking.’

Gracie looked around for the child’s guardian.  There were people everywhere, tourists throwing coins, local men selling bottle openers emblazoned with the Pope’s face, pairs of nuns sifting through the bottle openers, shysters “giving away” one Euro roses.

‘Where’s your mother?’  Gracie asked, taking the little girl by the hand.

‘In heaven,’ the girl said, her face earnest and calm.

Gracie’s gaze snapped back to her cohort.  It seemed they had more in common than their looks.  ‘Well then your father?  Your...Papa?  Is he here?’

Mila nodded.

‘Can you point him out to me?’  Gracie asked.

The little girl did not need to.  At that moment, Gracie caught sight of a tall male figure moving frantically through the crowd, leaping to see over heads, and not caring if he was shoving at people as he went.

Gracie’s stomach gave an unexpected little flip.  She could tell he was a stunner even with the look of controlled terror on his face.  He was immaculately dressed in a black suit and long coat that swished out behind him like a cape as he dodged through the crowd.  He had dark hair slightly longer than was fashionable back home, but it looked just right on the tall dark and handsome types who could be found on many a street corner in Rome.  His eyes flashed so bright she could not make out their colour.

With a brisk shake of her head, Gracie refused to be drawn into the unintentional allurement of the little girl’s father.  It was the Italian thing, that was all.

Her lifelong captivation with all things Italian had been cemented after she first saw The Godfather trilogy.  She had watched the films enough times over the years to develop an effusive crush on the charismatic Al Pacino and to be able to repeat entire scenes of dialogue when the opportunity arose.  The fact that it riled her mother to distraction only made the Italian thing more enticing.

Mi scusi!’ Gracie waved one arm madly as she held on tight to her young friend with the other.

Papa!’ Mila called out, imitating Gracie’s waving hand.

The sweet, high voice of his daughter was enough to have the man stop, his feet shoulder width apart, his ears straining to pick up on the familiar sound.

‘Call out again,’ Gracie said, grabbing Mila about the waist and hitching her up onto her hip.

Papa.  Vieni qui!’

The man turned, as though he had extra sensory radar attuned to that particular voice.  He spotted his daughter, his expression went from terror to relief, and he rushed over towards them, in one smooth movement sweeping Mila from Gracie’s hip and into his arms, twirling her about, chattering away a million miles a minute in lilting Italian as he went.  It was obvious to Gracie’s ears that he was chastising her, but it must have been in the most adorable manner, as the little girl would not stop giggling.

Up close and personal, the guy was definite crush material with a good several inches advantage over Mr Pacino, and bone structure that would give Michelangelo’s David a run for his money.

Once he put Mila down, she started babbling away in Italian and pointing in Gracie’s direction.  The man bent over, listening intently, before flicking his dark gaze in Gracie’s direction.

Melted dark chocolate, she thought as she had her first proper view of the colour of those flashing eyes.



First paperback printing: Mills and Boon Tender Romance May  2005
ISBN: 0-263-18653-9   Copyright: © 2004 Ally Blake
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. For more romance information surf to:



To Gianni and Christine, for doing such an extraordinary job

in parenting my very own Italian Hero.





















































A Night with the Society Playboy  |  Hired: The Boss's Bride  |  The Magnate's Indecent Proposal

Falling for the Rebel Heir  |   Steamy Surrender  |  Millionaire to the Rescue  |  Billionaire on Her Doorstep

Getting Down to Business  |  Meant-To-Be Mother  |  Wanted: Outback Wife  |  A Father in the Making  |  The Shock Engagement  

A Mother For His Daughter  |  How to Marry a Billionaire  |  Marriage Make-Over  |  Marriage Material  |  The Wedding Wish



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