Rosa Temple - Playing Her Cards Right

New year. New love. Fresh start.

Newly minted career girl Magenta Bright reluctantly finds herself growing up – she’s now a live-in girlfriend, a successful business owner, and an obsessive desirer of classic leather handbags.

But, fuelled by her creative talent, Magenta doesn’t seem to know when to stop. Between designing and launching a new range of bags, planning her parents’ second wedding, and whisky binges with scary international model and best friend Anya, something’s got to give, and it’s not long before her relationship with shy artist Anthony is in the firing line.

Will handbags lead to heartbreak for the unstoppable Magenta Bright?

Also by Rosa Temple:

Magenta Bright Series

Playing by the Rules

Playing Her Cards Right

Rosa Temple

ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

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

Endpages

Copyright

ROSA TEMPLE

is the pseudonym of writer Fran Clark. A ghostwriter of romance novels, Fran was awarded a Distinction in her Creative Writing MA from Brunel University in 2014. To date, Fran has penned five publications as Rosa Temple: Sleeping With Your Best Friend , Natalie’s Getting Married , Single by Christmas , Playing by the Rules , and Playing Her Cards Right . A mother of two, Fran is married to a musician and lives in London. She spends her days creating characters and story lines while drinking herbal tea and eating chocolate biscuits.

Acknowledgements

A few years ago, when I was dreaming up the character of Magenta Bright, I must have bored quite a few of my friends and family senseless about her. I rambled and sounded off several ideas before I was able to launch into her story. Thank you for your patience and for not glazing over.

I’d especially like to thank my family for the time and space they gave me as I delved into Magenta’s second adventure. My husband has always been my number one fan, and not in a Misery kind of way. Thank you for your continued support and faith in this nervous wreck of a writer.

In particular, I’d like to thank Hannah Smith and the wonderful team at HQ for taking a chance on me and the wonderful support and advice you gave.

Dedication

I’d love to dedicate this book to my sister, Josie Bannis. An inspirationally phenomenal woman who juggles several balls in the air with one hand while spinning plates with the other, but always manages to play her cards right.

Chapter 1

The Mantra

You can do this.

You can.

All you have to do is keep smiling and you’ll be fine.

So, there I was, lying in my king-size bed in the hotel room, the view of a cloudless sky from the window, the sound of waves drifting in and out on the white sandy beach below, and all I wanted to do was roll over and cry.

But it was Friday morning, the third day of a short stay on the glorious Caribbean island of Guadeloupe, and it was my parents’ wedding day – not the time to be a crumbling mess. I had to put on a brave face.

I’d spent months planning this wedding since my parents, five years divorced, had announced that they were getting back together. I practically forced the beach wedding on them, thinking that some sand and a platinum ring would keep them married this time (I wasn’t leaving anything to chance). They would have been happy just to live together but in the end I’d convinced everyone that this was going to be great. The wedding to end all weddings and a great excuse for a family getaway. We hadn’t been together for a celebration like that in absolute ages.

Yes, you can do this, Magenta.

Throw off the covers and just go for it!

The scent of bougainvillea was beckoning from the open window but the only thing more noticeable than the sound of the ocean waves was how lonely a king-size bed could be. I looked over at the vacant spot beside me and blinked rapidly to chase those prickly tears away. I made up my mind. I wasn’t going to cry. I had a wedding to organize for goodness’ sake.

At the foot of the bed little Tallulah lay fast asleep in her cot bed. Her black hair plastered to her head in the heat, cheeks warm and chubby. Anthony always said her eyes were just like mine and we shared a similar disposition. If you picked up a baby picture of me, you could easily mistake it for Tallulah. It was the sand-coloured skin and the black curls that did it.

She’d become very clingy since we’d arrived on the island but I didn’t mind one bit. I loved to cuddle Tallulah. And with my emotions flying here, there, and everywhere she was the constant that kept me sane.

To the rest of the family I’d made a billion and one excuses for Anthony not having made the flight out – none of them true. No one knew that it was all over between us, that I’d asked him to be out of the house on my return. I’d told him, in no uncertain terms, that I never wanted to see him again. And before you go assuming that this was just one in a list of Magenta Bright dramas (well okay the break-up was pretty dramatic) a break-up was inevitable and unavoidable.

The relationship I’d craved to have with the man I’d fallen in love with almost on sight was over. When Anthony and I first met, he was my boss and I was his PA but we couldn’t be together for a whole year because we’d each been involved with other people. We finally got together and the magic almost lasted. It hurt to admit that Anthony was not going to be at my parents’ wedding, by my side, holding my hand and … well, just being Anthony.

We’d moved in together almost immediately after our first date. Some might say that it was a bit too soon. Some being my best friend: Anya. She had secretly been rooting for me to choose Hugo over Anthony during that traumatic year. But the kiss Anthony and I shared after his first art exhibition in London had sealed it for me. I chose Anthony, the whimsical artist in geeky glasses, the reluctant CEO of a failing leather goods company with dark tousled hair and chocolate-brown eyes.

I sighed and rolled away from the still-plump pillow beside mine and turned back to look at the beautiful sky. I heard Tallulah stir and I knew I should get up and start getting on top of my parents’ big day. But there was a second silent heartache I had to endure. As if breaking up with Anthony wasn’t enough, I’d fallen out, big time, with Anya.

Unlike Anthony, Anya would be at the wedding. She was like a fifth daughter to Mother who had practically adopted her as one of her own several years ago. Anya, an international supermodel who had recently acted in her second film role, had her business manager clear her diary for the wedding: no photo shoots, fashion shows, television appearances or interviews.

She and I had been faking smiles at each other since she landed.

No one knew that I’d royally ruined our friendship and no one knew that the break-up with Anthony, the biggest tragedy of my life, had happened just before the wedding. And Anya, the one person I could have confided in, hated my guts.