I Heart Paris
Angela is in the city of love – but romance is taking a nose-dive…When Angela Clark’s boyfriend Alex suggests a trip to Paris at the same time as hip fashion mag Belle asks her to write a piece, she jumps at the chance.But even as she’s falling for the joie de vivre of Paris, someone’s conspiring to sabotage her big break. And when she spots Alex having a tête-à-tête with his ex in a local bar, Angela’s dreams of Parisian passion all start crashing down around her.With London and her old life only a train journey away, Angela can’t decide if should stay and face the music or run away home…
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I Heart Paris
Lindsey Kelk
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
A Paperback Original 2010
FIRST EDITION
Copyright © Lindsey Kelk 2010
Lindsey Kelk 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
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EBook Edition © JUNE 2010 ISBN: 9780007368679
Version: 2017-08-10
For Mabel, Kara, Joel and Chloe â hope youâre
not too ashamed of me when youâre old enough to read this
Contents
Dedication
New York hadnât even attempted to cool down in the three days that Iâd been away. When my friend Erin had suggested we get away to her beach house for a long weekend, I almost threw myself out of her eighteenth-storey office window to get there quicker. But three days beside the seaside only made it harder to be back in the sticky city. Iâd only walked two blocks to the subway and my heel had slipped into the melting, sludgy tarmac between the paving slabs three times already. Ick. It almost made me long for a wet summer Saturday in Wimbledon. Almost.
In this cloying heat, the only way I could cope was to wear as little clothing as possible whenever I had to be outside, and spend as much time worshipping at the altar of the air-conditioning unit as humanly possible. Todayâs survival ensemble was pretty much nothing more than a really long pale pink vest from American Apparel and a bangle. The bangle was to show I had actually put some thought into getting dressed and hadnât just wandered out in my underwear. Back in London, I would never, ever have left the house in something so skimpy, but it was just too hot to worry about bingo wings. When I left the house, I didnât feel as if Iâd forgotten to get dressed. Right now, I was one towelling headband away from the crazy lady that liked to sit outside the twenty-fourhour deli opposite my apartment in her dressing gown and bra.
Once I was safely on the air-conditioned train, I flailed around elegant as ever, hanging from the pole in the centre of the carriage and swapped my shoes for the ever-present flip-flops in my Marc Jacobs satchel. I thought back to the precious moment when the bag had come into my life. I had treasured it more than anything else Iâd ever owned, I never put it on the floor, always checked that pens had their lids on, lip glosses werenât leaking and there was no way on Godâs green earth, Iâd have ever put a pair of dirty street shoes in it. Rummaging around for my left flip-flop, I wanted to shed a little tear for the unravelled stitching and the used subway cards, crumpled napkins and dozens of half empty packs of chewing gum that now littered the lining. Classy.
Changing from the Six train onto the L at Union Square, I felt myself begin to smile. The same nervous flutter started to pick up in the pit of my stomach that always attacked me when I stepped onto the train towards Brooklyn. So, maybe there was an upside to being back in the city. Alex. Of course, I wouldnât have the L train flutters nearly as often if I would just move in with him, like he kept asking. According to my friends, it was ridiculous that I was keeping our relationship âbi-coastalâ. Iâd spent an awful lot of the weekend trying to explain to uber-Manhattanite Erin, who didnât even venture below 14th street unless she positively had to, that Murray Hill to Williamsburg wasnât exactly bi-coastal. And besides, I just wasnât sure I was ready to take that step just yet. Yes, I loved Alex, yes, I wanted to spend time with him but did that mean I should shack up with him right away? No.
