LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Chapter 1 - finders, losers

      Chapter 2 - the trouble with love

      Chapter 3 - lessons in love

      Chapter 4 - love in Many languages

      Chapter 5 - On the Case

      Chapter 6 - Picture Perfect

      Chapter 7 - Chasing the dream

      Chapter 8 - team talk

      Chapter 9 - On target

      Chapter 10 - reverse Psychology

      Chapter 11 - three’s Company

      Chapter 12 - the Prize

      Chapter 13 - lost and found

      Chapter 14 - Crazy in love

      Chapter 15 - desperate times

      Chapter 16 - Can-oe!

      Chapter 17 - Puppy love

      Chapter 18 - the best laid Plans

      Chapter 19 - Summer’s Winter

      Chapter 20 - SAM1

      Chapter 21 - Hearty Party

      Chapter 22 - Uh-Huh

      Chapter 23 - lights, love

      Chapter 24 - a Summer of love

      Also by Amber Aitken

      Copyright

      About the Publisher

      Chapter 1

       finders, losers

      The trees along the seashore were flattened at the front and looked like a line of tall, thin ladies with their hair blown back. It was a very windy day, which was quite unusual. Sunday Harbour was definitely more of a calm, balmy sort of seaside town, especially during the summer. But then it was nearing the end of August, so there really wasn’t very much of a summer left.

      “I’ll never manage to brush these knots out,” grumbled Coral, whose right hand had disappeared in the mass of reddish-brown curls on her windswept head. Finally she gave up trying to batten down her hair. She extracted her hand and rolled her eyes back so that she could watch her crazy curls break-dancing in the wind.

      “Mad, mad hair,” she grumbled some more.

      Sensible Nicks had plaited her long blonde hair so that it hung, neat and tidy, down her back. She was calmly flipping through some drawings in a box on a bare wooden table with a sign that spelled: ALLY’S ARTWORKS.

      Every six weeks – no matter what the weather – the colourful tables of the seaside market made an appearance on the stretch of grass near the foreshore. These would be carried from the boots of nearby parked cars and unfolded in tidy, even rows. From these tables the people of Sunday Harbour (as well as some visitors from the next seaside town along) sold things like second-hand books, potted plants, freshly baked breads and pastries, clothes, arts and crafts, homemade jams and pickles, pottery, sweets and bric-abrac. Everyone loved the seaside market; you would need a pretty good reason to stay away.

      Suddenly Coral spied a table with a sign saying GIFTS BY APHRODITE and quickly made her way over. She wasn’t in the market for a gift, but Aphrodite was the Greek goddess of love and there was not a lot that Coral loved more than love itself. It was the central theme in her life. Love was the reason for almost everything, including the Cupid Company. It had inspired Coral and Nicks to become matchmakers.

      She surveyed the table with her hands on her hips, searching for a heart-shaped this or a heart-decorated that, but the table was mostly filled with painted clay dragons bejewelled with colourful bits of glued-on glass.

      “Hello, I’m Aphrodite. Can I help you?” said the woman on the other side of the table.

      Coral stared at the woman, who in turn stared up at Coral. And then Coral shrugged at the woman called Aphrodite who was definitely not the Greek goddess of love and sold dragons instead of hearts. Coral was just about to move on when Nicks suddenly appeared and squeezed up close beside her.

      “I have a present for you, take a look,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, holding up a clenched fist to her friend.

      Coral loved surprises and did not need to be told twice. Prising Nicks’s fingers apart, she found her present – a hair band. But not just any hair band – one with a candy-pink, heart-shaped bobble attached. Coral grinned and in a matter of moments had her crazy curls tied up and bound with a heart. She laid an arm across Nicks’s shoulders.

      “You know, you really are the best friend a girl could have.”

      Nicks shrugged and nodded.

      “Ooooh, look over there.” Coral pointed to a table stacked with elaborate wigs on polystyrene heads. There were also trays of costume jewellery, old-fashioned leather shoes with big buckles and bows, colourful masks, pots of face paint, a few feather boas and a large silver shield. Beside the table stood a clothes rail that was heavy with hanging bits of bright, decorative material. A folded sign on the table explained it all: SUNDAY HARBOUR THEATRE COMPANY. The items were obviously from their prop cupboard and being sold to raise funds on their behalf.

      Coral grabbed Nicks’s cardigan and towed her over to the table. There was a red satin half-mask with feathers, nestled amongst the costume jewellery. She quickly scooped it up and pressed it to her eyes.

      “How do I look?”

      “Like you’ve got feathers growing out of your ears,” replied Nicks.

      Suddenly, a man with a curly moustache appeared from behind the clothes rail. “Oh, that is fabulous on you, girl!” He applauded Coral, who grinned and fluttered her eyelashes behind the mask.

      Nicks made a ‘mmm’ sound and wandered over to the rail. The hanging clothes were colourful and detailed with delicate embroid ery, rose ribbons, lace, fringing and sensational sequins – if you were into that sort of thing. And Coral clearly was. She quickly abandoned the mask and pounced on a vintage-style waistcoat in faded denim with silver piping. It had pockets and a neat row of pressed metal buttons featuring some sort of coat of arms. Coral eyed it up carefully. This waistcoat is military meets high fashion, she thought. She put it on and posed, hoping the man with the curly moustache might notice her fabulousness once again. But this time the man was very busy seeing to some other girl who had a white ringlet wig on her head.

      “Oh, that is fabulous on you, girl!” cried the man once again.

      Coral’s eyes narrowed, but she was not put off. “I think I’ll definitely take the waistcoat,” she said to Nicks, choosing to ignore her friend’s frown. “Waistcoats are fashion’s key item for layering,” she explained (just as she’d read in one of her mum’s magazines).

      Nicks smoothed her forehead and sighed. Experience had taught her that there was no point in arguing with her single-minded friend. “Well, give the man his money, Coral. The game of beach volleyball is starting up and I want to cheer on the Sunday Harbour Spikers. They just have to beat the Biscuit Bay Bombers!”

      Of course Nicks was right. Everyone in Sunday Harbour supported their local volleyball team, and today was the semi-finals. The team that won today’s game would go on to play the mighty Dune High Decoys in a few weeks’ time.

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