Nikki Moore - Crazy, Undercover, Love

Nikki Moore

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Nikki Moore Nikki Moore I've adored writing and reading since forever and have always been a sucker for love stories so I'm delighted to join the fabulous HarperImpulse team! I write short stories and fun, touching, sexy contemporary romance and really enjoy creating intriguing characters and telling their stories. A finalist in writing competitions since 2010, including Novelicious Undiscovered 2012, I'm a member of the fantastic Romantic Novelists’ Association. I blog about three of my favourite things – Writing, Work and Wine – at www.nikkimooreauthor.wordpress.com and am passionate about supporting other writers as part of a friendly, talented and diverse community, so you'll often see other authors pop in! You can find me at https://www.facebook.com/NikkiMooreAuthor (Author Page) or https://www.facebook.com/NikkiMooreWrites or on Twitter @NikkiMoore_Auth to chat about love, life, reading or writing … I'd love to hear from you.

Dedication This story is dedicated to; My wonderful children for putting up with me disappearing into my writing room at odd times! My friends and family for their unwavering support and belief that one day I would get a publishing deal. The wonderful members of the Romantic Novelists' Association, the most friendly and professional organisation I've ever been a part of. The fantastic HarperImpulse team – we've got the love! And a special mention to my aunt, author Sue Moorcroft, who has been a constant source of support and inspiration to me. Without her clear constructive criticism, valuable advice and emotional cheerleading I'm sure it would have taken me much longer to achieve my dream.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

About HarperImpulse

Copyright

About the Publisher

I've adored writing and reading since forever and have always been a sucker for love stories so I'm delighted to join the fabulous HarperImpulse team!

I write short stories and fun, touching, sexy contemporary romance and really enjoy creating intriguing characters and telling their stories. A finalist in writing competitions since 2010, including Novelicious Undiscovered 2012, I'm a member of the fantastic Romantic Novelists’ Association.

I blog about three of my favourite things – Writing, Work and Wine – at www.nikkimooreauthor.wordpress.com and am passionate about supporting other writers as part of a friendly, talented and diverse community, so you'll often see other authors pop in!

You can find me at https://www.facebook.com/NikkiMooreAuthor (Author Page) or https://www.facebook.com/NikkiMooreWrites or on Twitter @NikkiMoore_Auth to chat about love, life, reading or writing … I'd love to hear from you.

This story is dedicated to;

My wonderful children for putting up with me disappearing into my writing room at odd times!

My friends and family for their unwavering support and belief that one day I would get a publishing deal.

The wonderful members of the Romantic Novelists' Association, the most friendly and professional organisation I've ever been a part of.

The fantastic HarperImpulse team – we've got the love!

And a special mention to my aunt, author Sue Moorcroft, who has been a constant source of support and inspiration to me. Without her clear constructive criticism, valuable advice and emotional cheerleading I'm sure it would have taken me much longer to achieve my dream.

DAY ONE

– Friday –

I should have said no; it would have been the smart – aka sane – thing to do.

But there was a time limit on the offer and Amy caught me in a moment of desperation after I’d woke to yet another thick batch of overdue bills and polite job rejections. The feeling tripped a yes straight off my tongue, and now I’ve realised that maybe this isn’t such a good idea, it’s too late. I’m dashing across the city, yanking my purple case along behind me on squeaky wheels. So I can’t back out now; I’m committed. More importantly the reason for agreeing to this crazy Plan B, on the basis that sensible Plan A isn’t working, stands. It’s probably my last chance to hang onto life as I know it. Sounds a bit dramatic, but there it is.

The bitter wind increases its howling across the West India Quays footbridge, tearing through my belted winter coat. ‘Bugger it!’ I shudder. As well as being freezing, the force of the gale is making staying upright a challenge. My favourite (yes, okay, impractical) stiletto ankle boots are battling for grip in the snowy slush.

I’m so bloody cold it’ll be a miracle if my ears are still attached to my head, in fact they’ve gone completely numb, and there’s also a familiar ache starting deep in my throat. Great. I don’t need to get ill on top of everything else. To finish off my bad mood, the Arctic draught is trying to pick my hair out of the stylish knot I spent ages on. It’s hardly going to look professional if I arrive looking like the loser in a pro-wrestling match or as if I’m stuck in the jungle on I’m a Celebrity …

Glancing at my watch, I speed up, heels rapping out a clank-clank-clank on the metal bridge. Being late will hardly impress, either. Unfortunately, fate is conspiring against me, because as I break into a jog the jolting combined with the wind finally frees my hair. A rain of kirby grips slide into my collar and down my back. Seriously? Come on! Stopping with a skid, I yank my thick red waves into a ponytail, using the emergency hair band from around my wrist.

Setting off again, I pray the anticipated snow will hold back for another few minutes. It’s not looking hopeful; the air has that weird ozone smell to it and the temperature’s dropped loads already, grey-white cauliflower-like clouds crowding in uncomfortably low like a suffocating blanket. Yep, I’m probably going to get snowed on and I can’t help feeling it’ll be fair enough; bad karma for being so sneaky. What I’m about to do makes me want to dig a giant hole in the ground and leap into it head first. But working as a temporary Personal Assistant for the CEO of my ex-employer is an opportunity too good to miss.

Of course, it may all blow up in my face. Jess certainly believes it will, saying I’m making a massive mistake. She might be right, but I think it’s a risk worth taking. I’ve got to at least try: I owe myself that. So now I have one weekend in Barcelona to change things, whatever my best friend thinks, and if I don’t, at least the lump sum I’ll get will keep the rabid debtors at bay a while longer. In honesty, though, I really need the plan to work. It has to work.

Coming to the end of the bridge, I let out a panicked yelp as I step onto the concrete and slip on a patch of ice, regretting grabbing the handrail when my bare hand freezes to the slick metal. Peeling it off, I pick my way across a courtyard, cutting through a narrow concrete alleyway between a Japanese-themed bar and a towering hotel. The multicoloured lanterns and white fairy lights are still hanging in all the windows, even though Christmas was over a week ago. Of course leisure and retail are going to maximise the festive season and people’s celebrations; there’s more money in it for them. God, I’ve turned cynical. Sad, really, because I’ve always adored this time of year. But at the moment merriment and holidays are way down my list of priorities and for the first time I really didn’t enjoy Christmas, even though I was home with my family and friends. I think I understand Scrooge’s pre-ghosts-of-Christmas perspective now. Bah humbug.