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and Leah walked away.

      Tina watched her go. Saying she’d had a latte on the way was a downright lie but there was something about the way Leah had almost smirked about her missing breakfast that had got her back up. She’d kill for a coffee right now but no way was she going to admit that to Leah.

      Leah had been in the office for three months and everyone agreed she was a real asset. Tina, though, was still wary. Oh, Leah was good at assessing the slush pile of manuscripts, always helpful and a whizz at marketing, but there was something about her that irritated Tina and made her decide to keep her distance.

      It wasn’t just because Leah had made no secret of the fact that she was extremely ambitious and didn’t plan to stay a glorified office junior for long. It was also the feeling that Leah didn’t care who she trod on as she made her way to the top of her chosen career. Recently Tina had begun to suspect she was the first person in line for that honour.

      Tina pushed all thoughts of Leah out of her mind and clicked open the pending file on her computer. In among the usual unsolicited, indifferent manuscripts she received every day there had been one, two days ago, that had caught her attention. She’d immediately replied asking to see the full manuscript. She’d been hoping it would arrive today but there was no sign of it in her email box. A time-slip story, it had a modern-day heroine learning about her grandmother’s life during the bleak days of the First World War. The covering letter from the author, Lucinda Penwood, explained it was a debut novel and she wondered whether the agency would be interested in representing her. A debut novel it might be, but Tina knew, if the full manuscript showed as much promise as the few pages she’d read, that she definitely wanted to snap up the writer as a client. Lucinda would be an ideal addition to her growing list of women’s fiction writers. Besides, she had this gut feeling the novel would turn out to be the ‘high-concept’ something demanded by publishers these days and would make it big time.

      Tina’s day flew by in a succession of emails, computer work, telephone calls, and a quick ‘keeping in contact’ lunch with a publisher who was looking for the ‘next big thing’ until it was four o’clock and time for the last editorial meeting of the week in Kirsty’s office.

      To Tina’s surprise, Leah was also at the meeting.

      ‘Thought it was about time we gave Leah more responsibility,’ Kirsty said. ‘Starting with sitting in on these meetings. Now, Tina, anything good to report this week?’

      Tina nodded. ‘A couple of things but mainly a time-slip novel. I’ve asked for the full manuscript.’ No point in showing too much enthusiasm at this point.

      ‘Ooh, I love time-slip books,’ Leah said. ‘Can I read it when it comes?’

      ‘Sure,’ Tina said. The words ‘after me’ stayed unspoken in her head. ‘How about you?’ she asked, looking at Kirsty. ‘Anything interesting to report?’

      ‘A children’s cookery book aimed at playschools, with an interactive DVD.’ Kirsty glanced across at Leah. ‘This book is a bit of a departure for one of our clients. Thought you might like to sit in on my meeting with the author next week?’

      ‘Thanks.’

      Tina, detecting a distinct lack of enthusiasm in Leah’s voice, knew a child’s cookery book was not on the list of things she thought would advance her career. Leah wanted nothing less than to be involved with the blockbusters.

      ‘Tina, next week we’ll need to spend some time working on our schedule for the Book Fair. Can you keep Tuesday morning free for that please?’ Kirsty said.

      A quarter of an hour later, the meeting came to a close with Kirsty wishing everyone a good weekend before rushing off to spend the next couple of days in her country cottage with her husband. Leah was going away for the weekend too, muttering something about catching an evening flight over to Paris with her latest boyfriend.

      ‘Have fun, both of you,’ Tina said and quickly made for her own desk before she was forced to admit to anyone left in the office that she was sadly lacking in plans for the next two days. With her parents now retired and living in Portugal, where they played endless rounds of golf it seemed to her, she didn’t even have the option of seeing them this weekend. She could phone them, though, and hope to catch them between a round of golf and evening aperitifs with their neighbours. She hadn’t chatted to her mum for ages and it would be something cheerful to do this weekend.

      Weekends had always been busy when Jodie was around. The two of them were spoilt for choice when it came to the numerous invitations for parties, receptions, opening nights of plays and the occasional nightclub. But when Jodie married and moved to France, and no longer involved her in the mad world of PR, Tina’s social life had virtually vanished.

      These days, with no imminent book launches in the diary, an invite to the local charity shop’s annual coffee morning was the only thing pencilled in on the kitchen calendar and that was weeks away.

      Of course, when she had been with Jake life had been different again. A lawyer with a Porsche, Jake had been a bit of a cliché as a boyfriend but they’d had some good times together, until he’d been headhunted and disappeared off to Dubai nine months ago. The promises to fly her out and keep in touch had failed to materialise so far. But, hey, she wasn’t holding her breath. She was over him now. He definitely hadn’t been ‘the one’ her mother kept on telling her she would meet some day.

      Five minutes later, after closing down her computer and picking up a couple of manuscripts to read over the weekend, she was on her way home. As the bus made its way through the busy streets Tina wished Jodie was still living in London. Fleetingly, feeling a tad jealous of Jodie, she even found herself wishing she’d never introduced her to Ben. That she’d be back in the flat waiting for her and the two of them would get ready for a night out at the latest hotspot – making the most of being single in the vibrant city on their doorstep.

      Tina sighed ruefully to herself. Those days were over. The last few months had seen her life shrink into a boring routine of all work and no play. And she was getting older all the time. If she wasn’t careful she’d be buried in the deep rut that was currently her life when she reached her thirtieth birthday in… God, was it that soon? She’d be on her own in deepest Wales with those alpacas before she knew it.

      The Cosmos had answered Jodie’s plea to change her life in a spectacular way – while ignoring Tina’s completely. Looking around at her fellow commuters, Tina resolved it was time to shake up her life. She was clearly on her own and needed to ‘Do Something’. The only question being – what? And how was she going to change things?

      Seven hundred miles away from London, in a small village in a fold of the mountains behind Nice, France, Jodie Delahaye woke at stupid o’clock that same Friday morning. Turning her head, she stole a look at Ben, flat on his back and still in a deep sleep. Ben Delahaye, writer of bestselling crime novels and her husband. If she were honest, she still pinched herself occasionally, not quite believing the fairy-tale-like twist her life had taken recently. The stressed-out PR executive of four months ago had become a married woman living the dream in the South of France with the man she loved.

      It had been a real coup de foudre moment when Tina introduced her to Ben. She’d known instantly that her life was about to change.

      For once, she and Tina had been working at the same event, the Frankfurt Book Fair. Tina was manning a stand with the literary agency she worked for and Jodie had been assigned to represent her company, who were handling the PR for one of the big six publishers at the Fair. It was the very last evening and they were at the closing party when Tina said, ‘Oh, Ben’s here. Come on, I’ll introduce you.’

      ‘Who’s Ben?’ Jodie hissed, dodging around a large man blocking the way as Tina led her across the crowded room.

      ‘Benjamin Delahaye, crime novelist. Used to be one of my clients but sadly got poached by a big agent with lots of connections. Couldn’t blame him for leaving

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