I took a sip of my coffee, then smiled back at her. ‘There’s something wrong with the male population of London today.’ĭespite my best attempts to pout, the corner of my mouth curled up. I prised the plastic lid off my mochaccino and blew on it. She looked as if, python-like, she’d swallowed my classic VW Beetle for breakfast. She was seven months pregnant, and being such a slip of a thing there was only one way that baby bump could go-outwards. My business partner was one of those ethereal-looking types-flame-red hair, pale skin, willowy figure. ‘What’s got you in a snit?’ Alice said as I plonked her decaff latte on the counter. I didn’t want to give my recent doubts credit, but this didn’t bode well. Not a single honk or whistle as I’d made my journey! Another first. I was in an even worse mood by the time I pushed the shop door open and flipped the sign to ‘Closed’. Then there was a Thai restaurant, a newsagent’s, and a shop called Petal that sold just about anything as long as it was pink.įinally, next door to that, two doors down from the end of the eclectic row, was my shop-Coreen’s Closet-a vintage clothing emporium to rival the best in London.
The window was full of frosted and glittering towers of different flavoured cakes, delicious-looking enough to cause even the most dedicated dieter to stop and lick her lips. After that was Susie’s-a bakery that specialised entirely in cupcakes. Next was the second-hand bookshop that did a roaring trade in textbooks for the students at the nearby university campus.
On the corner was the all-organic coffee shop-closed now, but mid-morning packed with Yummy Mummies who cluttered the floor space with their high-tech pushchairs and the air with discussions on the merits of the local private nurseries. Normally when I passed each shop or boutique I’d smile and wave at the owner as I counted down the door numbers with growing excitement. However, not even the sight its neat row of cream Georgian buildings lifted my mood this evening. I nipped round the corner into Church Street and then across the busy junction into Nelson Street. I placed one red patent stiletto in front of the other and began to walk. There was plenty of traffic passing by to serve as an audience. Well, I was going to make the journey back to the shop count-rude man or no rude man. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin.
I’d watched that movie at least fifty times before I’d got the walk down pat, and the least I deserved was a little appreciation for my efforts. No one would be admiring my rear view as I walked away, my head high and my hips swaying like Marilyn’s in Some Like It Hot. No one would be standing with his hand on the open door, transfixed, as a steady stream of customers flowed past him. Rude Man had something else to answer for too. Thankfully, I only had a two-minute walk ahead of me, and would be safe and dry inside before the heavens opened. What should have been a balmy summer evening was as heavy and gloomy as a December afternoon. The sky wasn’t just promising rain but threatening with menaces.
I glanced upwards as I stepped outside onto Greenwich High Street. I sighed, turned one-eighty degrees, and shoved it open with my rear end. Left with no alternative, I balanced the two steaming paper cups of coffee I was holding and tried to open the door with my elbow. He probably just hadn’t seen me in his rush to escape from the unseasonable weather. Not that I was about to admit I was losing my mojo. Not only had he almost spilled my caramel mochaccino down my best polka-dot dress as he’d barged past, but he hadn’t even bothered to hold the door open for me. I GLARED at the man who’d rushed through the coffee shop door. 1-In my opinion, a pinkie finger isn’t properly dressed unless it’s got a man comfortably wrapped around it-and I always make sure I’m impeccably dressed. Her first small step: answering big-shot music executive Mark Wilder's Housekeeper Wanted ad! Outwardly Mark is powerful and can make or break careers, but is there another side of him that could that's reawakening Ellie's zest for life?Two sparkling rom-com stories from the author of Make My Wish Come True & Kiss Me Under The Mistletoe Now her head is telling her it's time to get her life back on track. And one moonlit kiss later, Coreen’s wondering if Adam’s the only man who really knows the girl beneath the skyscraper heels and scarlet lipstick…Ellie Bond's heart has ached ever since she lost her beloved husband and little girl.
But sourcing costumes for a 1930s murder-mystery weekend stops being fun when she discovers she has to wear a tweed suit and sensible shoes! But her best friend, Adam, has his own plans for the weekend. Sometimes you can find love in the last place you’d think to look…Clothing connoisseur Coreen Fraser’s film-star style never leaves her wanting for male attention. Sweep Me Off My Feet: Swept Off Her Stilettos / Housekeeper's Happy-Ever-After