Best Modern Romances Of The Year 2017. Maisey Yates

with us. Teddy will take care of any crumbs,’ Max bargained.

      But Teddy wasn’t falling for that unlikely offer. He knew Max wasn’t a messy eater. Teddy’s beady eyes were locked to the currently untended cake on the low coffee table.

      Tia laughed and tasted Max’s mouth again, sinuously, sensually, revelling in the knowledge of his arousal. He scooped her up into his arms on the landing, pretended to stagger at her increased weight, got mock-slapped for his teasing and totally forgot about his craving for cake. Tia told him how much she loved him and it all got very soppy, and then sexy, and then soppy again.

      Teddy got the cake.

      Tia got more diamonds for Christmas.

      And a couple of months later a little boy was born and christened Andrew.

      * * * * *

The Innocent’s Secret Baby

      Carol Marinelli

      A ruthless billionaire...

      When Sicilian tycoon Raul Di Savo meets Lydia Hayward, it’s not only her cool elegance he desires—seducing Lydia will also deny his lifelong rival’s bid for her body...

      An innocent in peril...

      Desperate to escape being sold to a stranger, Lydia turns to Raul—he promises her only one night, but his expert touch awakens her to pleasure she cannot resist!

      A nine-month consequence!

      Discovering she’s a pawn in Raul’s game of revenge, Lydia leaves...until she realizes an unexpected consequence will bind her to Raul forever!

      Lydia could feel heat hover between their mouths in a slow tease before they met.

      Then they met.

      And all that had been missing was suddenly there.

      At first taste she was Raul’s and he knew it, for her hands moved to the back of his head and he kissed her as hard as her fingers demanded.

      He slid one arm around her waist to move her body from the wall, closer to his, so that her head could fall backwards.

      If there had been a bed, she would have been on it.

      If there had been a room they would have closed the door.

      But there wasn’t, so he halted them—but only their lips.

      ‘What do you want to do?’ he whispered against her skin, and then he blew on her neck, still damp from his kisses, and raised his head and met her eyes. ‘Tonight I can give you anything you want.’

Dear Reader,

      This is my 100^th title for Mills & Boon!

      Rather than use this space to tell you about Raul and Lydia, I would like to thank you.

      Whether this is the first or the hundredth time you have read me, I am so grateful to my readers. Even if we haven’t met face to face, or online, hopefully we’ve shared some time through words on a page, and had a smile or three when one of my heroes misbehaves, or one of my heroines messes up. They tend to do that a lot.

      I often cry when I’m writing, but I also laugh often too.

      I hope, in some way, my stories let you do the same.

      Happy reading, and love always,

      Carol xxxx

      CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form asking for her job title. Thrilled to be able to put down her answer, she put ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and she put down the truth—‘writing’. The third question asked for her hobbies. Well, not wanting to look obsessed, she crossed her fingers and answered ‘swimming’—but, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

      For Lena, my mum.

      You were wonderful as both and I will love you for ever.

      Until we meet again…

PROLOGUE

      SURELY NOT?

      As Raul Di Savo thanked the mourners who had attended his mother’s funeral a figure standing in the distance caught his attention.

      He wouldn’t dare to come here!

      Not today of all days.

      The tolling of the bell in the small Sicilian church had long since ceased, but it still seemed to ring in Raul’s ears.

      ‘Condoglianze.’

      Raul forced himself to focus on the elderly gentleman in front of him rather than the young man who stood on the periphery of the cemetery.

      ‘Grazie,’ Raul said, and thanked the old man for his attendance.

      Given the circumstances of Maria’s death, and fearing Raul’s father’s wrath, most had stayed away.

      Gino had not attended his wife’s funeral.

      ‘She was a whore when I married her and she goes into the ground the same.’

      That was how he had broken the news of her death to his son.

      Raul, having been told of a car accident involving his mother, had travelled from Rome back to Casta—a town on the Sicilian wild west coast—but he had arrived only to be told that she had already gone.

      He had been too late.

      Slowly, painfully, he had pieced together the timeline of shocking events that had led to Maria’s death. Now Raul performed his familial duties and stood graveside as the line of mourners slowly moved past him.

      Condolences were offered, but small talk was strained. The events of the last few days and the savage condemnations that were now coursing through the valley made even the simplest sentence a mockery.

      ‘She was a good...’ A lifetime family friend faltered in his choice of words. ‘She was...’ Again there was hesitation over what should be said. ‘Maria will be missed.’

      ‘She will be,’ Raul duly replied.

      The scent of freshly dug soil filled his nostrils and lined the back of his throat, and Raul knew there was no comfort to be had.

      None.

      He had left it too late to save her.

      And now she was gone.

      Raul had studied hard at school and had done so well in his exams that he had received a scholarship and, as he had always intended, been able to get out of the Valley of Casta.

      Or, as Raul and his friend Bastiano had called it, the Valley of Hell.

      Raul had been determined to get his mother away from his father.

      Maria Di Savo.

      Unhinged, some had called her.

      ‘Fragile’ was perhaps a more appropriate word.

      Deeply religious until she had met his father, Maria had hoped to join the local convent—an imposing stone residence that looked out on the Sicilian Strait. His mother had wept when it had closed down due to declining numbers, as if somehow her absence had contributed to its demise.

      The building had long stood abandoned, but there was not a day Raul could remember when his mother hadn’t rued the day she had not followed her heart and become a novice nun.

      If