The Prince's Cinderella Bride. Christine Rimmer

self-published the three women’s fiction novels she’d written before she moved to Montedoro. So far, unfortunately, her e-book sales gave a whole new meaning to the word unimpressive. She was holding off on self-pubbing the new trilogy, hoping to sell them as a package to a traditional publisher.

      And suddenly she got what he was hinting at. “You downloaded the three books I e-pubbed, didn’t you?”

      One big shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “Isn’t that what you put them on sale for—so that people will buy them?”

      Her heart kind of melted about then. How could she help but melt? He not only made her want to rip off her clothes and climb him like a tree, but he was a very good man. He was constantly finding new ways to show her that he really did care about her and the things that mattered to her. It wasn’t his fault that she had trouble trusting her own emotions.

      Her throat burned with all the difficult stuff she didn’t know how to tell him. “Max, I…” She had no idea where to go from there.

      And then it didn’t matter what she might have said. He wiped her mind free of all thought by the simple act of lifting her chin lightly with his free hand and lowering his lips to hers.