Pernille Hughes - Probably the Best Kiss in the World

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Harper Impulse

an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019

Copyright © Pernille Hughes 2019

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019

Pernille Hughes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of 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.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008307721

Ebook Edition © April 2019 ISBN: 9780008307714

Version: 2019-04-03

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page Probably the Best Kiss in the World PERNILLE HUGHES A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright Harper Impulse an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019 Copyright © Pernille Hughes 2019 Cover images © Shutterstock.com Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019 Pernille Hughes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of 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. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008307721 Ebook Edition © April 2019 ISBN: 9780008307714 Version: 2019-04-03

Dedication To the naysayers. In Your Face!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About Harper Impulse

About the Publisher

To the naysayers.

In

Your

Face!

This was decidedly crap.

Regardless of what the photographer insisted, Jen’s nose was very precise and if it smelt like cow crap, she’d gamble plenty on it being cow crap. He’d said the photo-shoot location wouldn’t be too muddy, hence her now crap-covered and immobile trainers. She evil-eyed his wellies. Git . So much for client-care. Any uncontrolled movement and she’d risk face-planting into the boggy mire he’d insisted was the only position from which to get the angle he needed. Pretentious inflexible git . Ankle-deep in the stink, she was fairly stuck and now Ava, one of her bosses, had turned up, wanting a word. Jen took a quick look at the List IT app on her beloved iPhone: there were so many shots left to get and the light wouldn’t last much longer. Not that Ava would think or care about that.

Eight white-haired walking-booted men and women stood on the drier ground with their walking poles, looking thoughtfully into the middle-distance as if they were intrepid explorers, not in fact the Westhampton Rambling Society who were being paid with M&S vouchers for a marketing shoot. Ava coughed loudly in an unsubtle chivvy and Jen resigned herself to risking the journey.

It was hard work; a trial of strength, balance and swear words, as more than once she nearly toppled in her expedition to the shiny white Porsche Cayenne. Door open but sitting safely in the car, Ava was keen not to get her white jeans or pristine Hunters besmirched, her huge sunglasses pushed back to harness her long blonde-to-scarlet ombré locks. Ava and her sister-slash-business partner Zara rather fancied themselves as the Olsen twins of the organic sanitary-supplies world.

“Darling, far be it from us to question your choices,” Here we go thought Jen; questioning choices was their modus operandi, “but shouldn’t we be using more … aspirational models.”

“Aspirational? They’re ramblers, Ava, and we’re using them to promote incontinence pads.”

“Yes darling, of course, but they could still be a little more, well, let’s be blunt about it, attractive. Our customers won’t aspire to be them.” Oh Lord. Jen did not have time for this.

“Ava, nobody aspires to wear inco pads, organic or otherwise. The point here is to show ordinary people, so our customers can see incontinence affects normal people, and equally, normal people – not just the posh ones – can wear organic pads. That was the brief you approved, remember? I don’t think people believe celebrities experience incontinence, and we want people to believe our ads. We’re all about the honesty, aren’t we?” Jen ignored the grimace on Ava’s face. She’d seen it so many times she considered it a tic and best not acknowledged. Being marketing manager at Well, Honestly! for seven years had taught her plenty about tact and restraint.

A splat of something hit the inside of the rear passenger window and slid down the glass. A small chubby hand tried to wipe it away, spreading possibly yogurt, further across the pane. Ava’s head ducked towards the interior of the car.

“Are you behaving, Ferdinand? Remember what Mummy said; bad behaviour equals no iPad, no iPhone and no laptop.”

Turning back to Jen, Ava pursed her lips. “We’d best be off. These three are getting excited and Keane needs picking up from his Junior Krav Maga. Then it’s two hours to Glasto. Thank goodness Rupes has gone ahead to sort the yurt.” Jen knew Ava’s husband Rupert always went a day early under the guise of “prep” time, involving several of his mates and various herbal substances. Jen’s sister Lydia had seen it first-hand. Or else he was simply hiding from his four demon spawn. “So, if you’re really sure about the models?”