From the author of Jilted comes a funny and romantic Christmas novella set in rural Australia
Every family has a black sheep...and Hannah Elliot is it
It’s no surprise to anyone when Hannah Elliot makes the spontaneous decision to marry a stranger in Las Vegas. But when she finds herself pregnant and her new husband files for an annulment, she dreads having to tell her family.
Returning to her hometown of Wildwood Point, Hannah is determined to put her baby’s needs ahead of her own and become a devoted mom. She also wants to prove to her family she can actually be responsible, which will mean putting her wild past behind her and accepting a job in the family business...all while keeping her pregnancy under wraps.
But when gorgeous Italian Matteo Della Bosca walks through the shop door, Hannah finds her resolve slipping fast....
“Rachael Johns writes a beautiful romance, full of charm and emotion.” — USA TODAY bestselling author Maisey Yates
The Kissing Season
Rachael Johns
Refreshed version of The Kissing Season, revised by Mills & Boon HQN
MILLS & BOON
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To Helen Breitwieser (my fabulous agent)—thanks for believing in me and my writing.
Contents
Dedication
TWO SECONDS AFTER Hannah Elliot’s boss—who just happened to be her older brother—left Elliot’s Emporium to meet his fiancée, Nikki, for Christmas shopping, she let out a “whoop” of joy. Nikki had a reputation of being unable to make a decision quickly, which meant Luke would be away for ages. Hannah relished the thought of a few hours’ reprieve from people breathing down her neck about responsibility and family duty. Having returned to Western Australia from Vegas only two weeks ago, she hadn’t even told them the worst of her situation yet, and still, every member of her immediate family thought her flighty and irresponsible. Always had, and now, no doubt always would. The idea of being free to phone a friend, peruse the latest gossip on Facebook or simply sit back with her feet up while she enjoyed the gingerbread man under her desk was more than a wee bit appealing.
And in her condition she had to keep her strength up.
Four seconds after Luke left, the silly chimes at the entrance, which alerted Elliot staff to potential customers, clanged. She eyed the brown paper bag under the desk and groaned. She could practically hear the crumbly gingerbread man she’d bought early that morning at the Wildwood Point Bakery crying out to be devoured. What kind of person bought a bed the week before Christmas anyway?
Six seconds later she had her answer.
The male type of person. But not any old male. No way. Even sworn off men and on a necessary, self-enforced dating drought, she could look at this man with a critical female eye and admit there was absolutely nothing to be critical about.
“Good morning.” His cheery voice held the attractive hint of a foreign accent and also a question. She realized she’d been gawking quite freely at this impressive specimen of man—at his tall, well-built but not too muscular torso that wasn’t at all hidden beneath a decidedly designer shirt and smart black pants. His jet-black hair had a touch of unruliness that perhaps on another man would look scruffy and unkempt, but on him looked sexy as hell. And that was even before she started on his chocolate-brown eyes that sparkled in a way she didn’t think possible. “I heard this was the place to buy a bed.”
“Yes. That’s right.” She jumped to her feet, inwardly berating herself for getting distracted by this...this...man. What was wrong with her? Barely five minutes onto the straight and narrow path that was to be her life from now on and she was ogling the customers. “Elliot’s has been crafting top-of-the-range furniture for almost a hundred years. Family owned and...and...”
Dammit, she’d forgotten the spiel.
He peered at her, his dark brows slightly raised in anticipation, his smile still wide, now almost bemused. “Yes?”
If it wasn’t bad enough she was the laughingstock of her family, now total strangers found her antics amusing. She racked her brain for the sales pitch but all she could think about was how perfect this guy would be as a model for a pinup calendar. A calendar she’d happily give pride of place on her bedroom wall. Which was ridiculous. For a start, men in suits were definitely not her type. If they had been, she’d more than likely not be in her current predicament.
It had to be the insurgence of hormones wreaking havoc. Forgoing the traditional Elliot’s sales pitch, she forced her rebellious hormones back into their box and summoned