Michele Gorman - The Big Little Wedding in Carlton Square - A gorgeously heartwarming romance and one of the top summer holiday reads for women

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Harper Impulse an imprint of

HarperColl‌insPublishers

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017

Copyright © Lilly Bartlett 2017

Cover design by Micaela Alcaino © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Lilly Bartlett 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.

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,

downloaded, 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.

ISBN: 9780008226572

Ebook Edition © April 2017

Version 2018-04-25

To my friends Ben and Ting, proof that love blooms gloriously across cultures, and whose DIY wedding inspired this story.

This is a work of fiction, which means that any corruption of government officials or questionable market activities comes purely from the imagination of the author, who is sure these things don’t happen in real-life.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright Harper Impulse an imprint of HarperColl‌insPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017 Copyright © Lilly Bartlett 2017 Cover design by Micaela Alcaino © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017 Cover images © Shutterstock.com Lilly Bartlett 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. 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, downloaded, 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. ISBN: 9780008226572 Ebook Edition © April 2017 Version 2018-04-25

Dedication To my friends Ben and Ting, proof that love blooms gloriously across cultures, and whose DIY wedding inspired this story. This is a work of fiction, which means that any corruption of government officials or questionable market activities comes purely from the imagination of the author, who is sure these things don’t happen in real-life.

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

Extract

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Author Note

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Breathe, Emma. Pretend this is just a perfectly normal walk, like the time we went rambling all over Hampstead Heath and even though it started to drizzle and Auntie Rose had spent ages getting my hair straight, I acted like I’d been wishing for a clammy mist to come along and soak me through.

No, wait, that’s when Daniel told me he loved me. With water dribbling off my nose, frizzy hair and all. Oh god.

The important thing is to be cool and calm and not to act like some crazy person about to be proposed to. That’s how I’ll want Daniel to think of me whenever he remembers the day we got engaged. His cool, calm girlfriend who answered with something clever and nonchalant but still genuine and emotional .

Because I’m sure that’s what this is. In the entire history of the South Bank, the only people who’ve ever come here to walk along its wide Thames-side promenade are tourists and lovers.

It’s not only the location that’s alerted me. There’ve been clues, though I’m sure Daniel thinks he’s been subtle. A few months ago as we cuddled on his sofa with a bottle of wine and a film neither of us was very interested in, out of the blue he asked, ‘Do you ever wear rings? I just wondered because Mummy does.’

I should explain about the Mummy thing before we go any further, otherwise you’ll be picturing someone not very appealing. Daniel is very appealing. He’s not a mama’s boy (or a mummy’s boy). That’s just what posh people call their mums. It’s why he speaks like his jaw is wired open and loves red trousers, even though he’s only twenty-five. He might be a bit hard to understand sometimes because he slides over most of the syllables in words but lands on the letters at the ends. Isn’T thaT amaahzing? I’m getting pretty good at translating him into normal, though, so I’ll do my best.

Anyway, that one little question was the biggest clue that he might be thinking in the long term. There were other things too – mentions of future plans, including what sounded like a Christmas invitation to his family’s next year, even though we’ve just passed Valentine’s Day. But he asked about the ring months ago and, forewarned, I did shave my legs nearly every day after that (and definitely for Valentine’s Day, just in case), though lately I’ve reverted to my normal shaving-twice-a-week-if-I’m-lucky stubble.

All of which is to say that I’m not as prepared for today as I’d like. My hair’s got a weird kink and instead of a killer outfit I’m in my usual jeans and trainers and my winter wool coat that I should have replaced last year when it started to pill. It’s too warm for a wool coat anyway. I can feel my face sweating. Just to complete that marry-me look.

Daniel, I now notice, is dressed up. He’s wearing his tan brogues with his red trousers, and the stripy scarf I got him for Christmas is looped over his navy jumper.

I have to catch my breath when I sneak a glance at him. In the early spring sunshine his hair and complexion are golden, even though we haven’t been away all winter. He’s got the kind of skin you see on gorgeous Scandinavians in those adverts selling extra-healthy yogurt, with pinkish lips and just the right amount of stubble for a Saturday afternoon. He catches me with his bright blue eyes, edged with the longest, thickest brown lashes this side of a Rimmel advert.