The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

By: Scarlet Wilson
“Ms. Gates, would you like to earn a quarter of a million dollars?”

Phoebe must be dreaming. She’s bowled over by gorgeous Italian billionaire Matteo Bianchi’s offer of redecorating a spectacular house in the Hamptons and a mansion in Rome...and Phoebe can’t refuse! It’s just what she needs to take her mind off losing her fiancé.

But when they’re snowed in together on New Year’s Eve, their attraction explodes like the fireworks outside. And as Phoebe works her magic across the two properties, Matteo wonders... Could he finally open his heart and make her his bride?

Matteo stayed behind her, following her from room to room.

“Phoebe... Ms. Gates. Does this mean you’ll take the job?”

She could hardly speak. Room after room, there were so many thoughts clambering in her brain about how gorgeous she could make this place that she could hardly form words. Her dream job. The job that could change her whole career. A chance to pay off her mother’s medical bills. A chance to move forward. A chance to pull herself out of the fog that had hung around her for the last few years.

“Phoebe.” His voice grew sharp and he gave her arm a pull, tugging her around to face him. Her hands rested on his upper arms. She couldn’t help herself. She almost wanted to give him a kiss on the cheek. She let out a laugh.

“Do I want the job? Absolutely. Now I’ve seen it, this place is mine. Matteo, I’m going to do such a good job, you’re never going to want to let me go.”

It was the briefest of seconds. A wash of sadness seemed to sweep his face. A whole host of something she really didn’t understand. But as soon as it had appeared, the shutters came down in his eyes again. Matteo Bianchi had the perfect mask. The perfect face for business.

The edges of his lips curved upward. For the first time since she’d met him, the tension in his shoulders actually looked as if it disappeared a little. “Phoebe, a quarter of a million dollars for four weeks’ work, and I will let you go.”

Dear Reader,

When I was asked by my editor to write a New Year bride story I was delighted. As romance stories are full of billionaires I was so happy to oblige and pick some spectacular settings—a gorgeous house in the Hamptons and a private evening dinner at the Colosseum in Rome. My hero is a billionaire—so why not?

But Matteo is hiding family secrets. His mother killed herself years ago, and although his siblings know what she did, they’ve never been told why. Thirty years ago, postpartum depression wasn’t particularly well-known or understood. Thankfully, nowadays, things are different, and Matteo’s fears for his sister’s pregnancy are unfounded.

Enter my lovely sunny heroine, New Yorker Phoebe, an aspiring interior designer who has just been given the job of a lifetime to dress the house in the Hamptons for sale. But Phoebe falls in love with the place and the man who is determined to sell it. Cue an excuse for a scene that might be a little similar to a scene in Beauty and the Beast—you can see what you think!

Here’s hoping you love this hero and heroine as much as I do. Feel free to contact me via my website at



Chapter One

THE SHRILL RING of the phone invaded her dream just as she was about to save the world with Hugh Jackman. Phoebe stuck her hand out from under the snuggly white duvet and blindly felt around the bedside table as her brain tried to orientate her to time and day. She’d just been about to remove Hugh’s shirt...all in the name of saving the world, of course.

After a few fumbles, she finally found the phone and pulled it under the duvet next to her ear. “Phoebe Gates.” She winced. The phone was cold, much like the air outside her duvet. New York had spent the last few days covered in a snowstorm and her boiler was behaving like a temperamental teenager.

“Ms. Gates, how would you like to earn a quarter of a million dollars?”

The voice was smooth. Italian. Rich and deep with a timbre she didn’t recognize. It was like being smothered in melted chocolate.

“Wh...what?” She snuggled further down under the duvet. Maybe she was still sleeping. Maybe this was all just part of the dream.

“I said how would you like to earn a quarter of a million dollars?”

Phoebe frowned and rolled onto her back. “That would be wonderful.”

“Are you free?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you free for the next month?”

Her brain started to shift gear. “Hey, wait a minute. You’re one of those creepy callers, aren’t you? Well, you picked the wrong girl. There’s no way—”

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