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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015
Copyright © Nikki Moore 2015
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Nikki Moore asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
Ebook Edition © February 2015 ISBN: 9780008114770
Version: 2017-10-10
This is for all the fabulous, lovely and enthusiastic bloggers, reviewers, readers and fellow authors who have supported and generally raved about the #LoveLondon series so far. Every review, rating, Tweet, Facebook mention, blog post, purchase or email is truly appreciated. You’re all stars; thank you.
Spring is a time for new beginnings so this story is also for anyone starting out on a journey, whether it’s a professional or a personal one. Be fearless, and enjoy it.
Contents
Skating at Somerset House
New Year at the Ritz
Valentine’s on Primrose Hill
Cocktails in Chelsea
Strawberries at Wimbledon
Picnics in Hyde Park
Thursday
Sofia Gold sighed as she stepped into the trendy bar on the King’s Road. If she cared less about being polite, she’d be wearing her own clothes. Instead, she was tugging down the hem of the clinging, vibrant yellow designer dress Tori and Christie had wrestled her into and fighting the urge to pull the plunging neckline up a few inches closer to her chin.
While showing off tons of leg and cleavage wasn’t her at all, she had to admit the yellow outfit didn’t look too bad with her long golden hair, which Christie had made her straighten. It was just a shame she was being slowly crippled by towering four inch high heels. They might make her short legs look amazing, but the balls of her feet were already aching and they’d only left the girls’ exclusive white-pillared, black-gated residence twenty minutes before.
Of course she liked partying, enjoyed going out and having a laugh. After all skating ramps and riding the waves on her beloved surfboard couldn’t take up all of her spare time. She was also lucky enough to live in Bournemouth, and the coastal town had a great night life humming with stag and hen parties despite its reputation as the retirement capital of the south. The difference was, she usually went into town in tight jeans, mid-range heels at most and a cropped vest-top, not in outfits that felt designed to torture. Plus she drank at lively bars with the best, pulsing music and happiest, loudest crowd, not airy warehouse spaces with tons of lighting, exposed vintage-looking iron pipes and dark wooden floors packed with privileged and wealthy trust-funders.
But Tori and Christie were Mum’s best friend’s daughters and she’d promised to make an effort during this visit. If she offended them it’d be a giant dinosaur bone of contention with her mother for years. The idea of being on the wrong side of her mum was scarier than the thought of wearing the outfit for the evening.
‘You look lovely, Sof,’ Tori leaned close to whisper into her ear, ‘but you would look better if you stopped pulling at the dress constantly. Just try and own it.’
‘Thanks,’ Sofia murmured.
It was good advice.
Except.
Except she felt awkward and out of place. It wasn’t her scene. Everyone was on show, all the little circles of people air-kissing and studiously not watching each other while totally watching each other, there to be seen and talked about. What did she know about dressing in luxury brands and living it up with the glitterati in the capital? Nothing.
‘Come on darling, don’t stand there