What a Girl Wants
A new bestseller from the immensely popular Lindsey KelkBeing arrested in your own bedroom is never a good start to the day. Tess Brookes really needs to sort out her back-stabbing flatmate – and her life.Should she gamble all on the new photography job she’s landed, or snap up the offer from long-time crush and best friend Charlie to start up on their own – in more ways than one? There’s just one small thing she hasn’t mentioned. Or rather, one tall thing. He’s handsome, infuriating and called Nick…For the first time, Tess has to choose between the life she always dreamed of and a future she never imagined possible. From London to Milan, with high fashion and low behaviour thrown in, she’s going to have to make up her mind what a girl really wants…
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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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Copyright © Lindsey Kelk 2014
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublisher 2014
Cover illustration © Bree Leman 2014
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.
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.
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Source ISBN: 9780007501533
Ebook Edition © 2014 ISBN: 9780007501557
Version: 2018-09-24
âFans of the I Heart series will instantly fall for this gorgeously funny and romantic readâ
Closer
âPerfect for your summer holiday!â
Bella
âKelk has a hilarious turn of phrase and a sparkling writing style â¦â
Daily Express
For Audrey Hardware.We never did come running to you when weâd broken both our legs but we did turn up with just about every other ailment on earth and you were always there. If I can find half the love, strength and resilience you had, Iâll be OK.
On the one hand, you might have said my day wasnât going terribly well.
But on the other, I had told Amy that I wanted to make big changes in my life and there werenât many lifestyle changes more significant than swapping a luxury Italian palazzo for a prison cell.
And my second prison cell in two weeks, at that. Clearly I was going for some sort of record. It was one thing to say you wanted to start over, it was another thing to start over as someone on the âno flyâ list because you were considered an international flight risk. I was almost certain the generally accepted way of society was to go the other way.
I took a deep breath, blew it out hard and examined my bitten-down fingernails while trying to remain calm and wait for someone to appear and make this entire mess go away. Ideally someone I knew, accompanied by someone with a working knowledge of the Italian legal system, but at this point, as long as they didnât have a gun, a pair of handcuffs or a pointy stick, Iâd be happy. And if they did have a gun, a pair of handcuffs or a pointy stick, but also came bearing biscuits, Iâd probably be just as happy. Did everyone get this hungry in prison? Had I missed dinnertime?
âThis is what happens when youâre too busy working to watch telly, like normal people,â I admonished myself. âIf Iâd watched Bad Girls or Cell Block H like Amy, instead of doing my homework, I would know these things.â
I traced a shallow line in the cement floor with the bare big toe on my good foot and wondered how it got there in the first place. Iâd been thoroughly searched on my way in and anything that might have hacked a seven-inch gash in a concrete floor had been removed from my person. Hairgrips, the belt from my dress, even my bra. I had nothing left on me but my knickers and my beautiful bright pink dress. At least, most of it was still bright pink â there was quite a lot of muck and a few well-placed splotches of blood around the hem. But still, I had told Kekipi not to give me a dress with a train, so this was entirely his fault. Well, apart from all the bits that were my fault. Which was most of them.
Making a noise that sounded a little bit like a frustrated walrus, I rolled myself onto my side, the rough concrete of the bench scratching against my skin. At least they had been consistent in their decorating, I thought. Very clear message: minimalist, spare, modern. And it really only smelled very faintly of piss. However, my hair had not fared well in the eveningâs adventures and since no one in the police station had considered serum a basic human right, it was an unmanageable, knotted mess. I attempted to run my fingers through the dark copper curls, working them out slowly. If nothing else, it would pass the time until my fairy godlawyer appeared and made everything OK. I lasted about seventy-four seconds before I got bored and gave up. Plus, I really was hungry.
