M&B MODERN HEAT

- UNITED KINGDOM -

August 2009

 

 

SEXY SENSATION

- AUSTRALIA / NZ -

October 2009

 

 

HARLEQUIN PRESENTS

- NORTH AMERICA   -

November 2009

 

 

 

 

 

 

Get to know the Kelly family, Brisbane's most famous banking dynasty .

 

They're rich, they're powerful, they've always had everything they've ever wanted. 

Is there hope for them yet?

 

 

DATING THE REBEL TYCOON

(Harlequin Romance)

eBook

 


 

GETTING RED-HOT WITH

THE ROGUE

(Harlequin Presents)

eBook

 


 

 

MILLIONAIRE DAD'S SOS

(Harlequin Romance)

eBook

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

«««« Romantic Times

 

"This story starts with an amusing opening that pulls the reader right in. Blake takes a current hot topic and wraps a romance with unexpected depth around it."

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE HERO

 

 

Dylan Kelly

 

 

THE HEROINE

 

 

Wynnie Devereaux

 

 

 

THE BAR

 

 

 

THE MANOR

 

 

 

THE CAFE

 

 

 

THE BUTTERFLY CLIP

 

 

 

 

BLOGGING

 

To follow the series of blog posts about the writing of this book, click here.

 

 

 

THE WORKING TITLE

 

"FLIRT"

 

 

 

THE SOUNDTRACK

 

 

"Sweet About Me"

Gabriella Cilmi

 

 

 

"Mercy"

Duffy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Grab an eBook today!

 

Amazon North America

Amazon United Kingdom

 


««««  Romantic Times

 

"This story starts with an amusing opening that pulls the reader right in. Blake takes a current hot topic and wraps a romance with unexpected depth around it."


Lobbyist Wynnie Devereaux is a woman on a mission - to save the planet one man at a time.  She has her reasons for wanting to spend her days flirting, prodding, pushing, winging, dining and encouraging those in power to try a little harder to protect the planet - some reasons are born of altruism and hope, others are a tad more murky.

Her mission leads her to set her sights on Dylan Kelly - the spare heir, and head of Media Relations for the the formidable Kelly Investment Group banking family of Brisbane - as the one man who can help her change the world.  The fact that she has never met a man who has affected her as ardently, as instantly, or as alarmingly intensely, a man whose own life's mission to take down anyone with the notion to target his family for their own ends, means that most of all it is her heart which needs protecting!


 

 

After setting most of my books in the cool, elegant, cosmopolitan, southern-Australian city of Melbourne in which I now live, when the idea for this story popped into my head I had no choice but to set it in the city in which I grew up.

Brisbane is a city with a young heart.  When I think of her I see a gleaming city skyline, sprawling suburbs, the tight curves of her meandering river, lush green hills, warm golden beaches a stone’s throw away, and most of all the kind of stunning year round weather most cities would kill for.  They don’t say she’s beautiful one day, perfect the next for nothing ;).

The funny thing is, living away from a place for nearly a decade means things change - favourite restaurants have closed down, shopping precincts that were once cool are now passé, and even street names have disappeared into the cavernous blur that is my memory.  But that has given me the chance to rediscover Brisbane in a new way, and more great excuses to head on up to visit my gorgeous family!

And now that I’ve started writing about the fabulous and formidable Kelly family and their place in the beautiful Brisbane landscape, I’m not sure where I’m going to stop!  Dylan’s brothers and sisters, and their friends, have all clamoured to the surface of my sub conscious, begging for stories of their own.

Now my only concern is who will be the next to fall in love?

 

 


 

‘Mr Kelly?’

Dylan looked up from his corner office desk on the thirtieth floor of Kelly Tower to find his assistant, Eric, practically quivering in the doorway.  ‘Shoot.’

Eric’s voice tremored as he tried to say, ‘I...  There’s...  I’m not sure I quite know how to...’

Whistling a breath through the smallest gap between his lips Dylan pushed back his chair and leant his chin upon steepled fingers.  ‘Take a breath.  Visualise your happy place.  Count to ten.  Whatever it takes.  Just remember that I am a very busy, very important man and get to the point.’

Eric did as he was told, so quickly Dylan thought the kid might hyperventilate.  But he managed to say, ‘I have to get onto your computer for a sec.’

‘Go for your life.’  Dylan pushed his chair back to give the guy room.

Eric slid into place, his fingers flying over the keyboard with the speed of a kid born with a laptop attached to his thighs.  ‘A friend of mine works for an online news mag and he messaged me to say I had to see something.  This address ought to give us a direct feed.’

Dylan’s cheek twitched.   ‘Seriously, kid, if you’ve come in here all a fluster because some blog has footage of me feeding spaghetti and meatballs to that nifty little Olympic diver I met in Luxembourg last week...’

His next words froze on his tongue and he slid his chair back beneath his desk with such speed Eric had to leap out of the way.

The monitor was not in fact showing any footage of him.  Or the nifty little Olympian.  Or meatballs for that matter.

Dylan didn’t even have the chance to be the slightest bit ashamed of his own self-absorption as the crystal clear digital footage brought his reason d’etre, the family business he championed day in day out, back to the forefront of his mind with a wallop.

The half acre forecourt keeping Kelly Tower clear of the maddening CBD crowds that traversed Brisbane’s hectic George Street had in its north corner a twenty-foot-high, silver, zig-zag sculpture - representing the impressive escalation of fortune securing representation with the Kelly Investment Group ensured.

The sculpture usually stood proud and alone bar a few stray pigeons brave enough to cling to its slick diagonal bars.  Today it had been taken over by camera crews and reporters with mini-sound recorders and logo-labelled mikes.  That kind of excitement had encouraged a crowd of ten times as many interested onlookers.

No wonder.

From what he could make out through the sudden ache descending upon his head, the excitement in the reporter’s voice, and Eric wheezing in the doorway, in some kind of crazy protest a woman had handcuffed herself to the zig.  Or was it the zag?

Dylan had nothing against handcuffs per say.  They had their place in the zeitgeist of the single man.  Just not in the middle of a busy work day, not in front of his building, and not when as the head of Media Relations it was his job to make the fact that a crazy person had picked that particular statue to which to attach her daft self seem less interesting than it certainly was.

The crowd parted, and Eric’s friend’s camera slipped into the gap, giving Dylan a better look at the ruination of his afternoon.

Fair skinned, dark-eyed, with dark wavy hair made all the more interesting by the fact she kept having to shake its wind-mussed length out of her face.  A floral top cinched and flowed in all the right places, telling tales of the kinds of curves and hollows that could distract a weaker-willed man.  Not to mention the white calf length trousers into which her second-glance-worthy bottom half was poured, a pair of the most insanely high-heeled hot pink sandals...

And, of course, handcuffs.

‘What are we going to do?’ Eric said in whispered awe.

Dylan jumped; he and the woman had been having such a moment he’d forgotten his assistant was even there.

The heel of his palm reared up over the mouse, ready to jab the webpage closed when a sudden gust of breeze blew the woman’s hair from her face right and she looked directly into Eric’s mate’s camera lens.

His hand went rigid a breath from touchdown leaving him staring into a pair of brown eyes.  Bambi eyes, for Pete’s sake.  Big, beautiful, liquid brown with long delicate eyelashes that made them appear wounded.  Vulnerable.  Repentant.

His gut twisted.  His teeth clenched.  A shaft of heat shot him upright, then filled him with adrenalin.  Every masculine instinct reached out to her as the deep-seated urge to protect her clobbered him from the inside out.  He felt himself rising from his seat, his wrists straightening as though preparing to slay whoever it was who put that look in those eyes.

Then she licked her lips, shapely pink lips covering the sexiest kind of overbite, and blinked those big brown eyes as her gaze shifted left, she dropped her chin a fraction and she grinned flirtatiously at the person behind the camera.

The trance splintered like broken glass, ringing in his ears as it dislocated around him.

He swore beneath his breath, regained control over his mouse hand, closed the damn webpage and gave his usually exceptionally discriminating protective instincts a good mental kick in the pants.

They knew better.  Far better.

The only people sheltered by his vociferous guard had the name of Kelly.  The blood of his blood.  That was as wide as his circle of trust stretched.

His family needed to stick together.  Tight together.  For no matter how sincere people might seem to be in courting amity, the downside of being richer than Midas and more recognisable than the Prime Minister was that they would always be considered Kellys first, everything else second.

He’d leant that lesson nice and young.  No matter how beguiling a woman might be, how well-bred, how seemingly genuine, they all wanted something from him – his wealth, his connections, even his name.

Nowadays he only let himself play with those who wanted the heat of his body and nothing more.  No history and no hereafter.  It was a process that had worked beautifully for him for some time.

The fact that not a single one of the warm bodies had stoked the fire of his protective instincts like the one with the soft brown eyes trained directly on his family was something he had neither the time nor inclination to ponder.

Feeling mighty fractious, he was out of the chair and through the door before Eric even realised he was moving.

‘Sir!’ Eric cried.

Dylan waved a hand over his shoulder, and all but ignored the wave of hellos and bowing and scraping that followed in his wake as he jogged down the hallway towards the elevators.

Eric was puffing, red-faced, and his hands were shaking by the time he caught up.  ‘Tell me what to I can do!’

‘Don’t go anywhere,’ Dylan said as the elevator doors closed so slowly he made a mental note to talk to his brother Cameron – who, being an engineer, surely knew where to source faster closing ones.  ‘And tell your mother you’ll be late home.  I have the feeling this will be a long day.’

v

 

From "Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue" by Ally Blake
Mills and Boon Modern Heat August 2009

ISBN: 978-0-263-87247-7  Copyright: © 2008 Ally Blake
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. For more romance information surf to: http://www.eHarlequin.com

 


To beautiful, sunny Brisbane. 

The city which gave me my first crush, first kiss, and first love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


The Secret Wedding Dress  |  The Rules of Engagement  |  The Wedding Date  |  Millionaire Dad's SOS  |  Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue

Dating the Rebel Tycoon  |  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

 
 

 

home      biography     bookshelf      blog stuff    fun stuff      my place      writing tips      get in touch