OVERTIME IN THE BOSS'S BED was sparked by a picture of Kate Hudson in a magazine.  She appeared so bubbly, so happy, so 'out there' with her mix of funky jewelry and casual elegance that I knew I had to write a story with a heroine just like her.

I also have a long-standing passion with dance, so what better job to give my bold heroine than being a dancer?  Once I had my heroine clear, I needed to match her with someone her opposite in every way and Callum Cartwright strutted onto the page. 

Following a family tragedy, he tamed his wild side a long time ago but getting involved with Starr changes all that…

Set in Sydney, my gorgeous home city,

Melbourne, and the spectacular

Hayman Island in the Great Barrier

Reef, I hope you enjoy watching the

sparks fly between these two.

   The bronze god was naked.

   Gloriously, eye-poppingly naked, every muscle flexing and bunching and glistening as he carried a tray laden with cocktails and champagne flutes through the crowd.

   "You can close your jaw now, before it hits the floor."

   Starr Merriday blinked once, twice, the spell broken as she tore her reluctant gaze away from the waiter and frowned at her best friend Kit.

   "It's your fault.  You brought me to this den of inequity."

   Kit wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, her chuckles positively wicked.  "Yeah, and you're loving every minute of it."

   "It does have its benefits."

   Starr's gaze strayed to the ripped waiter again, lingered on his pecs, the light smattering of dark hair across his broad chest, dipped to his navel, at the arrowing of hair beneath it…

   "Jeez, what does a girl have to do to get a drink in this place?"

   Kit smirked.  "Bit hot under the collar?"

   "More like hot all over," she muttered, thankful the waiters were clothed from the waist down, beyond thankful Kit had chosen one of her entrepreneurial mother's infamous cocktail parties for her farewell. 

   Nothing like a roomful of semi-naked guys to get a girl's mind off the fact she was jobless, homeless and penniless.

   "Don't look now but I think he's checking me out." 

   Kit's subtle head jerk towards Mr. Pecs had her darting a quick glance in his direction, in time to see him stumble, the tray skating on his palms like a penguin on ice, sloshing cocktails everywhere, the bulk of it landing on the guy next to him.

   Sympathy warred with mirth as she watched the waiter try to mop up his mess, the guy in the suit waving him away with a frown.

   The cocktail-wearing-recipient looked out of place, suited and buttoned up in a roomful of semi-naked guys and she grinned as he fiddled with the knot on his tie, straightening it, aiming for cool despite having several Mojitos and a magnum of champagne dumped on his Armani duds.

   "Yeah, he was definitely checking me out.  Just one look and the guy does that.  Back soon, hon.  Off to mingle, find me a less clumsy one." 

   Kit headed for the bar-and a tempting conglomeration of buffed waiters-while she found her gaze drawn back to the suit.

   She'd been too busy ogling the waiters to notice the other guys in the room but now she had… slick guys in suits weren't her thing but there was something about this guy…the way he stood, tall, proud, indomitable despite a cocktail dousing, his class obvious, his imperious gaze scanning the crowd… clashing with hers.

   Startled, she dropped her gaze, surprised by the lick of heat lapping her skin after their momentary eye lock. 

   The smart thing to do would be to quickstep out of here.  Considering the shambles her life was at the moment, she hadn't done the smart thing in ages.

   Curious to see if her inexplicable reaction to the stranger had been a result of a testosterone overdose from being in this room too long, she slowly raised her gaze to his, the moment of impact just as cataclysmic as the first time.

   He arched an eyebrow, his dark eyes filled with questions she had no hope of answering, the sardonic twist of his mouth tempting her to march right over there and set him straight.

   She wasn't interested.

   His lips curved in a decadent smile, shattering that particular delusion.

   Damn, she was a sucker.

   The only reason she'd come tonight was to avoid mulling.  She'd already done the pity party earlier that week, complete with crashing cymbals and tooting horns and a banner that read 'Fallen Starr', reminding her of the utter mess she now faced courtesy of one lousy decision.

   She'd fallen for the wrong guy.

   Never again.

   So what the hell was she doing standing here, encouraging some serious eye contact flirtation with absolutely no intention of following through?

   Sculling the rest of her drink, she headed for the glass-enclosed balcony fifty storeys above Sydney.  Maybe some fresh air might give her a little perspective.  Yeah, right, and a miracle might drop from the heavens too.

   Leaving the jam-packed room laden with expensive perfume and excessive testosterone, she stepped onto the balcony, grateful for its solitude, impressed by the view.

   No doubt about it, Kit's mum knew how to throw top shindigs.  Sydney came alive at night, shimmied and salsa-ed and samba-ed from dusk to dawn and she loved it, loved every vibrant inch and as she watched a Manly ferry leave Circular Quay on a journey it made many times a day, the lights of a bustling city twinkling far beneath, the impact of leaving slammed into her, hard, hurting, despite the week she'd had to adjust.

   Sydney was her past, Melbourne her future. 

   Just freaking great.

   "Running away?"

   The deep voice washed over her and she shivered despite the balmy summer evening as he stepped in front of her, so much more striking up close, so much more appealing, so much more everything.

   She couldn't see the colour of his eyes or read their expression out here in the shadows but there was no mistaking the amusement lacing his smoother-than-velvet voice.

   He'd followed her out here, was trying to get a rise out of her and while her first instinct was to tell him where to go, she swallowed it.

   She'd never been one to wallow and while her life as she knew it had just flushed down the toilet and discharged into Sydney Harbour, there was no time like the present to test her new male-immunity program.

   "Just needed some fresh air.  What's your excuse?"

   "Too many people back there-" he jerked his thumb towards the packed room "-and the only interesting ones are out here."

   "Smooth."

   "I like to think so."

   "Also terribly lame."

   Crooking his finger, she inadvertently leaned forward. 

   "Care to help me improve my technique?"

   "Nope.  Not in the mood for meaningless small talk and pitiable one liners."

   He laughed.  "How about a meaningful exchange?"

   "Not interested, Mister."

   She jabbed at his chest, realising her mistake a second too late as she connected with a hard wall of tempting male flesh.

   His mouth twitched as she removed her finger tout suite, the initial electricity zap from touching him fading into a residual tingle.

   "Point taken."

   He didn't budge, didn't move a muscle as she belatedly realised a big, strong, he-man like him would see her reluctance as a challenge.

   "Doesn't mean I'm going to back down, though."

Desperate for a job, dancer Starr Merriday is forced to hang up her ballet shoes and accept a position as a P.A. in a new city - even if the last time she saw her new boss…she was naked in his bed!  Her professional pumps and pencil skirt can’t hide her top-to-toe blush when she remembers their blisteringly hot night together!

But Starr won’t let that suppress her sassy spirit - after all, unbuttoning her blouse is next on her boss’s agenda.  So she will switch on her out-of-office and go to a meeting - in the boss’s bed!