âLetâs make a deal,â Amy whispered in Jaredâs ear. âI will allow you to help with the wedding, but only on one condition. You do the work yourself. Not your PA, not your events planner, not your brilliant admin team. You. Or is the great Jared Shaw scared of getting his hands dirty?â
And she looked up at him with the sweetest, most adoring, open-mouthed smile, complete with fluttering eyelashes for the benefit of the onlookers.
âDo we have a deal? Squeeze once for yes and twice for no.â
Jared tightened his grip on Amyâs waist.
There was no backing out.
He squeezed. Once.
Dear Reader
Thank you for choosing ALWAYS THE BRIDESMAID.
The romance you are holding in your hands is a very special one for me, since it is my very first published book!
I am thrilled and excited to be joining the talented family of Mills & Boon authors.
I do hope that you enjoy Amy and Jaredâs story, which is set in a bakery in London.
Food is one of lifeâs great pleasures, and I come from a long line of home bakers. I can clearly remember arriving home from school to a table laden with delicious cakes and savouries. A real English tea! It is little wonder that food features so prominently in my writing.
I would love to hear from my readers, and you can get in touch and find out my latest news by visiting www.ninaharrington.com
Nina Harrington
NINA HARRINGTON grew up in rural Northumberland, England, and decided at the age of eleven that she was going to be a librarianâbecause then she could read all of the books in the public library whenever she wanted! Since then she has been a shop assistant, community pharmacist, technical writer, university lecturer, volcano walker and industrial scientist, before taking a career break to realise her dream of being a fiction writer. When she is not creating stories which make her readers smile, her hobbies are cooking, eating, enjoying good wineâand talking, for which she has had specialist training.
AMY EDLER had three problems. All female. And all of them were demanding her attention at that very minuteâor there would be tears. Added to that, she had a telephone crammed between her shoulderblade and her ear, a bakery full of customers, and the air-conditioning had chosen the hottest day in June to start playing the maracas.
It had been Trixiâs idea to offer two of Amyâs problems a chance to ice the chocolate cupcakesâa treat for the other girls at the childrenâs home.
Only this was real chocolate icing. And these two problems were eleven-years old.
Big mistake.
Huge.
Amy tried to catch Trixiâs eye, but her catering student was too busy chatting to the last of the customers for the day to help her judge the best-iced cupcake contest.
She looked down at the trembling lip of the taller girl, glanced swiftly at the still liquid icing, which had flooded the paper cases and pooled out over the plate, and decided that her phone call could wait.
âI think these cakes were too warm from the oven. But look at that shine! They look delicious.â
The little girl gave her a warm, closed-mouthed grin and shrugged her shoulders in delight. But then her friend started sniffing. She had decided to freeze the icing to help it set, and now two thick slabs of brown fudge lay on top of each cake.
Amy quickly scooped up the plate, popped it into the microwave for twenty seconds, then spread the now soft luscious frosting into smooth layers.
Their ownerâs mouth formed a perfect âWowâ, and then broke into a toothy grin.
Amy bent down to whisper. âI wonât tell if you donât. Theyâre perfect! And well done for thinking ahead.â She stood up, head high. âI donât think I can judge this icing competition properly today, because of the heatâbut how about next time? Was that a yes? Brilliant. Now, I would be in serious trouble if I let you go home like that, so itâs time to wash your fingers. Go onâIâll guard your cakes!â
She couldnât help but grin as the delighted little girls joined their pals in a gaggle of excited chatter, filling the room instantly with laughter.
This was just how she had imagined it would be.
Her bakery and her kitchen filled with happy children.
A sigh escaped from somewhere deep inside before she swallowed it down.
One day soon.
She knew she could offer a child a loving home. But first she had to pass the assessment process and prove that she could be a responsible single parent before she could even hope to adopt.
Amy dropped her shoulders and gave herself a mental shake. No time to dwell on that dream. Not at six oâclock on a Friday afternoon, when she still had to deal with problem female number three.
Which, in theory, should not have been a problem at all, since her friend Lucy Shaw had gone out of her way to find the most experienced wedding planner in London to organise her big day.
Pity that this planner was not answering any of her telephones.