The Perfect Location
As you prepare to hit the sunshine with your e-book device, make sure you have the ultimate book in your catalogue. The Perfect Location is the definitive guilty pleasure and all you’ll need to wile away the hours.Join three Hollywood actresses as they set upon The Perfect Location to create a film that will change each of their lives forever. The question is, can you guess which real life star each of these characters is based upon?Calypso arrived to the party first. She glowed in the courtyard like a firefly, stunning in a One Vintage gold lamé dress from the 1920s that had been reworked for her. The beaded appliqué around the low neckline shimmered and a tulle detail around the skirt edged up over one side to reveal just the right amount of thigh. Worn with a pair of patent leather Christian Louboutin black slingbacks and her new evening bag from the Perugia flea market, Calypso shone in the dark.Next came Rose: tall and slender in a peach georgette chiffon, halter-neck Chloé gown, she was beautiful. Her shoulders and arms were lily white, and she wore a gold Etruscan cuff on one arm and matching gold hoop earrings, which showed off her long neck. Her brunette hair was swept up into a ponytail and she had applied her makeup in such a way that it looked as if she had barely any on but her features were perfect. Rose was an icon and had the power and had real respect within the industry.And finally Sapphira arrived and the whole table fell silent. She stood in the doorway of the courtyard, wearing a white leather Pucci mini dress, with a huge silver and black eagle on the front looking as if it were about to land on its prey. She wore no jewellery and long black hair hung loosely down her back. Her legs seemed to stretch forever, ending in a pair of Balmain suede calf-high boots, with five silver buckles up each side. Her entrance stunned the room; it was dramatic and powerful, not unlike Sapphira herself.An intricate web of passionate pasts, addictions, lovers and secrets, perfect for fans of Jennifer Weiner and Adriana Trigiani.
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KATE FORSTER
The Perfect Location
Copyright
AVON
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
Copyright © Kate Forster 2012
Kate Forster asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © May 2012 ISBN: 9780007452491
Version: 2014-07-23
Dedication
For Nicole whose ‘deliberately vague’ directions steered me here.
Table of Contents
Read on for an exclusive interview with Kate Forster and a guide to the Perfect Locations in Italy.
There is not a writer who is published who doesn’t owe somebody something at some point in their career. Writing books is collaborative, even though a few writers’ egos might argue otherwise.
Without the following people in my life, who knows where I would be and what I would be doing. I want to say thank you to them, it’s not nearly enough but it’s a start. Yes, I could drop them a bottle of wine and a thank you card but I would prefer to see their names in print for posterity and all that jazz. They put up with me; they deserve something more concrete than a Pinot Grigio and a scrawled note. Trust me, I can be hard work.
*Warning: gushing ahead. Look away if it offends.
To my mother Joan who never censored the books in our house and who has champagne taste and a song for everything.
To Emma and Fiona for being the first readers of everything I write. Thank you for telling me to keep writing. I am here now, because of you both. You are my ideal readers and ideal best girlfriends.
To my agent Tara Wynne at Curtis Brown for taking the call, seeing something in the first draft and taking me on, typos and all. Tara, you are a tigress, a patient teacher and always, extremely fabulous. I am blessed to have you in my corner.
To Domonique for her cheerleading across the pond and never-ending belief in me.
To Claire Bord and Sammia Rafique, thank you for your support, collaboration and sound advice. It has been a dream to work with you both and I am very thankful you took me on.
To Tansy for keeping me up to date with everything and telling me when something is really ‘lame’.
To Spike for having such faith in everything I do and not complaining (much) when dinner doesn’t always arrive on time.
And to David for understanding I didn’t have a choice and wanting me to be happy more than anything else.
CHAPTER ONE
Rose Nightingale walked into LAX, hiding behind large Dior sunglasses and ignoring the photographers that lurked at the international terminal, waiting for celebrities to come and go. They took their chance to harangue them, usually when they were holding travel-weary children and pushing a trolley full of luggage. It didn’t matter how fabulous you were, travel was travel and it was a bore.
As Rose approached the United Lounge, she was greeted by a flight attendant who ushered her inside a door to the sanctity of the private space.
‘Hello, Ms Nightingale. May I have your passport, please?’
Rose handed it over with a smile.
‘Can I offer you champagne and a light snack?’
‘No, thanks,’ said Rose as the attendant led her towards a private seating area.
Rose’s phone rang and she answered it as she sat down in a corner of the lounge, ignoring the flickers of recognition from other travellers.
‘Slapper,’ said Rose, seeing Kelly’s name appear on her phone.
‘Tosser, you all ready for Italia?’ Kelly’s thick Northern accent came down the line and Rose smiled at the sound of her oldest friend’s voice.
