Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Amelia Lazenby deserves a breather—from work and from the stress of a recent breakup. Courtesy of her best friends, she gets a day of pampering at a posh country spa called Arlington Hall. Instead of finding calm, she finds her pulse racing when she sees flawlessly rugged Jude Harrison. Hand on heart, she’s never laid eyes on such a stunner. And an unexpected steam room meet takes their instant attraction to a whole new level.
Amelia wasn’t looking for an intense new affair. But the passion Jude ignites is off the charts. Even if he is a little possessive. Even if his temper can be as formidable as the influence he has on her body. He becomes all the more intriguing when Amelia discovers that Jude not only owns Arlington Hall but that their meeting was no accident. It was planned. But to what end?
That’s a mystery as irresistible as Jude himself. Is he worth the risk? Or is this the man who could break her?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
I’m at my desk, five floors up and five rooms back, and I can still hear the blare of the car horn from the road outside. I take a deep breath and ignore the beeps of my phone, all messages from her. “Absolutely, Mr. Jarvis,” I say, checking the time. I’m late. “Let me look into that and get back to you.” I cringe, hearing the horn blaring again.
Gary appears at the door and tilts his head, making his grey quiff wobble, his lips pressed into a straight line. I hold up my hand, my expression full of apology, and get back to my call. “It’s a small shift, Mr. Jarvis. I honestly don’t think it’s cause for panic stations just yet.”
“When you’re playing with your own money, Amelia, you can be the judge of that.” Mr. Jarvis hangs up, and I exhale, slumping back in my chair.
“Aren’t you supposed to be off today?” Gary says with scorn, looking at the mini suitcase by my desk.
“You tell that to the FTSE 100,” I mumble, gathering up Mr. Jarvis’s file and popping it into my handbag. “He’s having a complete meltdown.” And I can’t really blame him, considering Mr. Jarvis is a heartbeat away from retirement and all his investments are due to mature in a matter of months.
I grab my bag and case, leaving the office before Abbie brings the buildings of Kensington down with her persistent honking horn. “I’m off.” I have no idea when I’m going to get back to Mr. Jarvis. Maybe while the girls are distracted during one of their treatments, I can whip out my laptop and snatch a few moments to reassure him his retirement pot is safe. No need for any drastic action just yet.
“Have a wonderful day,” Gary calls as I head to the elevator. “And, Amelia?”
I press the call button and turn.
He smiles, slipping off his glasses. “Happy birthday.”
Oh yes. Thirty today. “Thanks,” I say on an exhale, stepping into the cart. I escape the sound of Abbie’s horn in the time it takes me to ride down to the foyer, but the racket starts again the moment the doors slide apart.
Rushing outside, I fling open the passenger door, shoving my head inside her car. “Really?” I say as she grins at me. “The whole of Kensington knows you’re here.” I throw my case on the back seat and slide in, and Abbie pulls off fast, her Audi TT quite nippy.
“We’re late picking up Charley,” she says, her attention split between the traffic and my lap. “Nice dress.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sure a cream pencil dress will fit right in at a spa.”
“I had to be prepared in case a Zoom call was needed.”
“And was it?”
“No.”
“So now you look like you’re going for a meeting instead of a cheeky spa day.”
I point to my case on the back seat. “I’ll change when I get there.”
Abbie looks at the dashboard when her mobile starts ringing. It’s Charley. “She’s called eight times since I’ve been waiting for you.” She rejects the call.
“Sorry.” I check my mobile, wincing at the icon telling me how many emails are in my inbox.
“Oh, please turn it off, just for today,” Abbie pleads, turning her beseeching blue eyes my way. Her chestnut hair is plaited messily over her shoulder, as opposed to my perfect, businesslike bun.
“I will,” I assure her, feeling a loose wisp of my ashy blond hair tickling my neck. I reach back and tuck it in.
“Do it now.”
“What?”
“Now. Turn it off now.”
“Silent?” I try.
“No, turn it off. We’re going off-grid. I have your mother helping Corey run the shop for me today, and Lloyd’s taken the day off work to look after the kids so Charley can come. The least you can do is turn off your phone.” She raises her brows. “Since it’s your birthday we’re celebrating. Just the three of us. Not the three of us and all your clients.”
“Okay,” I relent, taking the plunge and turning it off. I take a deep breath as I do.
“Happy birthday.” Abbie smiles across at me, taking my hand and squeezing. She doesn’t say any more. I’m thirty, recently single, and homeless. Life could be better. Could also be worse.
“Thanks.”
Her mobile rings again—Charley again. Abbie answers this time. “Ten minutes.”
“See you in twenty.” Charley sighs, then hangs up. It’s one of many things Charley and I have learned about Abbie over the years. If she says she’s going to be half an hour, she’ll be an hour. If she says she’s five minutes away, she means ten.
Abbie glances across to me as she turns at the lights. “We should go out this weekend.”
I snort. “I’m still not over last weekend.” A bit of vomit rises, reminding me of the hangover that lingered for days. “I only started feeling normal yesterday.”