The British Bachelors Perfect & Available
Mr (Not Quite) Perfect
Jessica Hart
The Plus-One Agreement
Charlotte Phillips
The Return of Mrs Jones
Jessica Gilmore
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page The British Bachelors Perfect & Available Mr (Not Quite) Perfect Jessica Hart The Plus-One Agreement Charlotte Phillips The Return of Mrs Jones Jessica Gilmore www.millsandboon.co.uk
Mr (Not Quite) Perfect Mr (Not Quite) Perfect Jessica Hart
About the Author JESSICA HART was born in west Africa, and has suffered from itchy feet ever since, travelling and working around the world in a wide variety of interesting but very lowly jobs—all of which have provided inspiration on which to draw when it comes to the settings and plots of her stories. Now she lives a rather more settled existence in York, where she has been able to pursue her interest in history—although she still yearns sometimes for wider horizons. If you’d like to know more about Jessica visit her website: www.jessicahart.co.uk
Dedication For John, perfect for me, with love.
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
The Plus-One Agreement
About the Author
Dedication
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
The Return of Mrs Jones
About the Author
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Copyright
Mr (Not Quite) Perfect
Jessica Hart
JESSICA HARTwas born in west Africa, and has suffered from itchy feet ever since, travelling and working around the world in a wide variety of interesting but very lowly jobs—all of which have provided inspiration on which to draw when it comes to the settings and plots of her stories. Now she lives a rather more settled existence in York, where she has been able to pursue her interest in history—although she still yearns sometimes for wider horizons.
If you’d like to know more about Jessica visit her website: www.jessicahart.co.uk
For John, perfect for me, with love.
ONE
Making Mr Perfect by Allegra Fielding
You’ve met a new guy. You’re hot, hot, hot for each other. He’s everything you ever wanted. But have you noticed that the infatuation phase never lasts? ’Fess up, ladies. How long before you’re out with the girls and you find yourself saying, ‘He’d be perfect if only he talked about his feelings/cooked occasionally/arranged a surprise mini-break/unfriended his ex on Facebook/insert peeve of your choice? He’s still hot, you still love him to bits, but he’s not quite as perfect as he seemed at first.
Are we asking too much of men nowadays? In a fairy tale, Prince Charming’s task is clear. He has to hack his way through a thicket, slay a dragon and rescue the princess. Easy. In real life, we want our men to do a whole lot more to deserve us. Here at Glitz we’ve been conducting our own super-scientific survey over a few cocktails (pomegranate martinis, anyone?) and it seems that we want it all. The perfect boyfriend, it turns out, can fix our cars and dance without looking like a total dork. He looks good and he’ll get rid of that spider in the shower. He’ll sit through a romcom without complaining and be strong enough to literally sweep us off our feet when required.
But does such a man exist? And if he doesn’t, is it possible to create him? Glitz gives one lucky guy the chance of the ultimate makeover. Read on and see how one unreconstructed male rose to the challenge of becoming the perfect man. Meet—
Allegra lifted her fingers from the keyboard and flexed them. Meet who?
Good question. Funny how the world was full of unreconstructed males until you actually needed one. But as soon as she had started asking around, it turned out that nobody wanted to admit that their boyfriends were anywhere near imperfect enough to take part in her experiment.
With a sigh, Allegra closed the document and shut down her computer. Had she been too ambitious? But Stella had liked the idea. The editor in chief had inclined her head by an infinitesimal degree, which signified enthusiasm. Now Allegra had a big break at last—and it would all fall apart if she couldn’t find a man in need of a major makeover. One measly man, that was all she needed. He had to be out there somewhere...but where?
* * *
‘Ouf!’ Allegra threw herself extravagantly into the armchair and toed off her mock-croc stilettos with a grimace of pain. The needle-thin metal heels were to die for, but she had been on them for over twelve hours and while they might be long on style, they were extremely short on comfort.
Max didn’t even look away from the television. He was stretched out on the sofa, flicking through channels, looking oddly at home in her sitting room. He had been tidying again, Allegra registered with a roll of her eyes. You would never catch the magazines being neatly lined up on the coffee table when it was just her and Libby. The radiators would be festooned with bras and thongs and the surfaces comfortingly cluttered with useful stuff like nail polish remover, empty shoe boxes, expired vouchers, cosmetic samples and screwed up receipts. She and Libby knew to check down the back of the sofa for chargers. They knew where they were with the mess.
There was no point in trying to tell Max that, though. Libby’s brother was an engineer. They said cosy sitting room, he said tip.
She massaged her sore toes. ‘My feet are killing me!’
‘Why do you wear those ridiculous shoes?’ Max demanded. ‘It’s like you put yourself through torture every day. Why don’t you wear trainers or something more comfortable?’
‘Because, Max, I work for Glitz,’ said Allegra with exaggerated patience. ‘That’s a fashion magazine and, while I realise that as Mr Hasn’t-got-a-clue you don’t know what fashion is, I can assure you that my editor would send me home if I turned up in trainers!’
‘They can’t sack you for what you wear,’ said Max, unimpressed.
‘Stella can do whatever she likes.’ Such was her editor’s power and personality that Allegra found herself glancing over her shoulder and speaking in hushed tones whenever her name was mentioned.
‘That woman’s a monster. You should tell her where to get off.’
‘And lose my job? Do you have any idea how hard it was to get a job at Glitz?’ Cautiously Allegra wiggled the blood back into her poor toes. ‘People kill for the chance to work with Stella. She’s like the high priestess of fashion. She’s totally awesome.’
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