Teresa Morgan - Plus One is a Lucky Number

Teresa F. Morgan

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Teresa F. Morgan Teresa F. Morgan I live in sunny Weston-super-Mare, trying to hold onto my Surrey accent where I was born and bred. For years I persevered with boring jobs, until my two boys joined my nest. In an attempt to find something to work around them, and to ensure I never endured full time boredom again, I found writing. I am at my happiest baking cakes, putting proper home cooked dinners on the table (whether the kids eat them or not), reading a good romance, or creating a touch of escapism with heroes readers will fall in love with.

Dedication This book is dedicated to Elizabeth Charles (aka Junkfoodmonkey who writes professionally as Becky Black) and Star Ostgard (aka Shadowwalker). Without their encouragement I would never have started my writing journey. They’ve been tough on me at times, to the point of tears, but they have taught me so much and thickened my skin for the real writing world. Without them I would not have created this book. And rather than miss out names and upset anyone, I would also like to thank all my good friends and family who have put up with me … I mean supported me in fulfilling my dream of becoming an author – you know who you are! Thank you x

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

Bonus Material

About HarperImpulse

Copyright

About the Publisher

I live in sunny Weston-super-Mare, trying to hold onto my Surrey accent where I was born and bred.

For years I persevered with boring jobs, until my two boys joined my nest. In an attempt to find something to work around them, and to ensure I never endured full time boredom again, I found writing.

I am at my happiest baking cakes, putting proper home cooked dinners on the table (whether the kids eat them or not), reading a good romance, or creating a touch of escapism with heroes readers will fall in love with.

This book is dedicated to Elizabeth Charles (aka Junkfoodmonkey who writes professionally as Becky Black) and Star Ostgard (aka Shadowwalker). Without their encouragement I would never have started my writing journey. They’ve been tough on me at times, to the point of tears, but they have taught me so much and thickened my skin for the real writing world. Without them I would not have created this book.

And rather than miss out names and upset anyone, I would also like to thank all my good friends and family who have put up with me … I mean supported me in fulfilling my dream of becoming an author – you know who you are!

Thank you x

Sophie Trewyn needed an excuse. A good one. A week to go and she was still no closer to a decision. She hated being a coward, but she couldn’t face this alone.

“Sophie, what’s up? You’re quiet tonight.” James frowned at her as he drank his pint.

Roused momentarily from her reverie, Sophie picked up her wine glass. “It’s nothing. I’m tired.” She plastered on a smile.

They were sitting in the garden at The White Lion, where everyone – from Accounts to the techies on the factory floor – went on Fridays for a drink after work. Luckily, it was a warm, July evening, so they could sit comfortably outside. Otherwise the small pub, with its low ceilings and wooden beams, would be swelling under the strain of its increased patrons.

“Who’s keeping you up at night? Someone I know?” James nudged her playfully.

“You know I’m not seeing anyone.” She sipped her Chardonnay and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, I mean, who’d want to go out with you? Pretty, intelligent –”

“Oh, please.” Sophie blushed.

“Okay – forget the intelligent bit.”

Used to his teasing, she laughed. James and Sophie were design engineers, specialising in robotics. When she’d started at the company ten months ago, he’d taken her under his wing, becoming the older brother she never had and even introduced her to his girlfriend, Kate.

“Does Kate know you think I’m pretty?”

“Kate thinks you’re pretty! She wants to set you up with one of her boring accountant types.” Then, grinning, showing off boyish dimples, he added, “I keep telling her they’ll be too outgoing, even for you.”

She jokingly slapped him on the arm, finished her drink and excused herself, heading for the ladies. When Sophie pushed open the door she found a stunning young woman, cursing into the mirror whilst delicately dabbing the corner of her eyes with tissues. Sophie meekly smiled and hurried into a cubicle. Having enough worries of her own, Sophie didn’t need someone else’s problems, too. The woman continued her tearful rant to herself in front of the mirror. “Commitment-phobic bastard. You can do better than that arsehole, Bella. Adam arsehole Reid’s loss, not yours!”

Sophie knew that name. Relief washed over her as she heard the door swish and Bella leave, and hoped she wouldn’t be upset for too long. Men these days were not worth it.

With the amenities to herself, Sophie tidied her ponytail and reapplied some lip-gloss. Working in a male-dominated office, she preferred to keep a low profile, hair worn back, minimalist make-up. Sophie wanted to be noticed for her work, not the skirt she wore.

She stared into the mirror as Bella had just done, her head clouded with excuses to make to her best friend Cassie, and how she’d deal with Cassie’s anger – albeit over the phone.

Coward .

If only it had been Kate who had set Sophie up with one of her friends …

Or maybe she could feign a terrible illness?

God, why’d she let it go this far?

Because I thought I wouldn’t be going home alone. She’d had months to find someone, and she hadn’t thought it would come around so quickly.

She sighed heavily. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t stand in a pub loo worrying all evening, James would wonder where she was.

Walking towards the picnic bench, Sophie noticed fresh drinks on the table and someone sitting in her seat. The man – with mouth-watering good looks – had removed his jacket and loosened his tie, laughing with James.

Adam Reid – Bella obviously long forgotten.

His name often came up when James discussed his weekend jaunts with his mates. How could such good friends be the opposite ends of the spectrum? Unlike his friend, James wasn’t a naturally smart dresser. Adam looked sophisticated with his crisp, white shirt, a contrast to James’ faded dark blue polo shirt that hadn’t ever seen an iron.

Adam glanced at her as she approached. He had short, sandy blond hair, expensively cut. She’d heard some of the women in the office talk about him being a real head turner. They weren’t wrong. Poor Bella .

Poor Bella? More like poor Sophie.

Oh, please don’t have a trail of loo paper stuck to my shoe like some Andrex puppy trailing tissue behind it.

She subtly tried checking her blouse was tucked into her trousers, and quickly brushed a hand over her hair. Why hadn’t she untied it? She could understand why Bella had been upset. This man was a catch.