id="uda779dba-e6b0-56be-86af-fb53116f3313">
Can an isolated rancher fall for the one woman who thaws his heart? Find out in Diana Palmer’s beloved HEART OF ICE.
The last thing in the world romance novelist Katriane James wanted to do was spend her holiday with her roommate’s arrogant, infuriating brother. A rugged man like Egan Winthrop belonged in New York City about as much as she belonged out in the wilderness of his ranch.
But Egan’s powerful presence soon stripped Katriane of her defenses, and his offer of a visit to his Wyoming home was one she couldn’t refuse. Soon Katriane had lost her heart as completely as the heroines in her own stories. But how could she convince Egan that, unlike the women in her books, she had never yet been loved?
Heart of Ice
New York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Diana Palmer
I really can’t express how flattered I am and also how grateful I am to Mills & Boon Books for releasing this collection of my published works. It came as a great surprise. I never think of myself as writing books that are collectible. In fact, there are days when I forget that writing is work at all. What I do for a living is so much fun that it never seems like a job. And since I reside in a small community, and my daily life is confined to such mundane things as feeding the wild birds and looking after my herb patch in the backyard, I feel rather unconnected from what many would think of as a glamorous profession.
But when I read my email, or when I get letters from readers, or when I go on signing trips to bookstores to meet all of you, I feel truly blessed. Over the past thirty years I have made lasting friendships with many of you. And quite frankly, most of you are like part of my family. You can’t imagine how much you enrich my life. Thank you so much.
I also need to extend thanks to my family (my husband, James, son, Blayne, daughter-in-law, Christina, and granddaughter, Selena Marie), to my best friend, Ann, to my readers, booksellers and the wonderful people at Mills & Boon Books—from my editor of many years, Tara, to all the other fine and talented people who make up our publishing house. Thanks to all of you for making this job and my private life so worth living.
Thank you for this tribute, Mills & Boon, and for putting up with me for thirty long years! Love to all of you.
Diana Palmer
Table of Contents
“You didn’t!” Katriane wailed at her best friend. “Not at Christmas!”
Ada looked pained and visibly shrank an inch. “Now, Kati…” she began placatingly, using the nickname she’d given the taller girl years ago. “It’s a huge apartment. Absolutely huge. And you and I will be going to parties all over town, and there’s the charity ball at the Thomsons’…It will be all right, you’ll see. You won’t even notice that he’s here.”
“I’ll notice,” Kati said shortly. Her reddish gold hair blazed in the ceiling light, and her brown eyes glared.
“It’s our first Christmas without Mother,” Ada tried again. “He’s got nobody but me.”
“You could go to the ranch for Christmas,” Kati suggested, hating the idea even as she said it.
“And leave you here alone? What kind of friend would I be then?”
“The kind who isn’t sticking me with her horrible brother during my one holiday a year!” came the hot reply. “I worked myself to the bone, researching that last book. I was taking a rest between contractual obligations…just Christmas. How can I rest with Egan here?”
“He’ll be fun to have around,” Ada suggested softly.
“We’ll kill each other!” Kati groaned. “Ada, why do you hate me? You know Egan and I don’t get along. We’ve never gotten along. For heaven’s sake, I can’t live under the same roof with your brother until Christmas! Have you forgotten what happened last time?”
Ada cleared her throat. “Look, you planned to set that next big historical in Wyoming, didn’t you, on a ranch? Who knows more about ranching in Wyoming than Egan? You could look upon it as an educational experience—research.”
Kati just glared.
“Deep down,” Ada observed, “you both probably really like each other. It’s just that you can’t…admit it.”
“Deep down,” her friend replied, “I hate him. Hate. As in to dislike intensely. As in to obsessively dislike.”
“That’s splitting an infinitive,” Ada pointed out.
“You are an actress, not an educator” came the sharp retort.
Ada sighed, looking small and dark and vulnerable. So unlike her elder brother. “I may wind up being an educator, at this rate,” she said. “I am sort of between jobs.”
“You’ll get another one,” Kati said easily. “I’ve never seen anyone with your talent. You got rave reviews in your last play.”
“Well, maybe something