Highland Heart - an uplifting chick lit book (SAMPLE ONLY)

It's not you, it's me

Madeline's WhatsApp message had been brief. "Can you get to London on Monday? I've fixed up an interview for you with a literary agency who want to discuss ghost-writing?"

Too right she could. Madeline owned a huge online recruitment agency and she mentored people on the side. A few weeks ago, Dexter mentioned her to Katya and suggested she get in touch. Madeline needed someone to mentor, he said—a young woman, preferably.

"How do you know her?" Katya asked. Then, "Does mentoring work?"

Dexter whacked up those enthusiasm levels. "Oh yeah. I was mentored at the start of my career. It's super-useful, especially if you need a neutral outsider to talk to. Madeline mentored one of my marketing assistants and I've promoted her a coupla times since. Awesome, huh?"

He forwarded Madeline's email address before Katya said yes, but when the reply came back Madeline said she was specifically looking for a freelancer to mentor.

"Freelancing creates its own particular challenges—not least the isolation. I started my recruitment business from scratch so I know how difficult it is to push yourself."

Too right.

So far, Madeline had made lots of useful suggestions. She wasn't able to speak on the phone or meet face to face—"too busy, so sorry"—but she was always at the end of an email. And she told Katya she wanted her to succeed. She had plenty of contacts too.

Such as the talent and literary agency she suggested, a satellite office to a much bigger operation in the US. "Go see them! Edmund Morris & Co are awesome and well connected."

Two days later, Katya found herself at the agency—a glossy, glitzy place in the centre of London. Earlier that year, she'd ghost-written a celebrity self-help book. The first few chapters of it, anyway. The job fell through, mostly because the celebrity had no idea what she was talking about. CeCe had heard about it and loved the few chapters Katya had written.

Could Katya do it for another client of theirs, so far unspecified? An American client this time.

"Don't you want a more experienced writer?" Katya asked. The world of celebrity ghost-writing was new to her. She wasn't familiar with the ins and outs but practicalities suggested someone in the same country would be better placed to do the job.

The woman—CeCe—shook her head. "Our client specified it had to be you."

Katya almost fell off her seat. "Me?" Did she have some parallel secret life where she befriended A-listers and if so, why did she still live in Great Yarmouth in a grotty flat-share, existing on packet noodles and beans on toast? In her secret life, was she part of Taylor Swift's squad and the woman Justin Bieber called upon when he wanted to discuss the finer points of his lyrics and poetry?

(He should. She'd improve them no end.)

CeCe refused to tell her any more. Client confidentiality and all that. When she mentioned the fees for the project, Katya decided she didn't care. She'd started copywriting and PR freelancing two years ago when she was made redundant from the firm she worked for. Since then, she'd never needed to bother the tax authorities with revenue as she'd yet to reach the heady threshold of earning £11,500 a year. If this project worked out, Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs would want words with her next year. She'd be able to buy her own flat—heck, maybe even move to Glasgow so that she and Dexter didn't have to do the long-distance relationship thing.

CeCe got to her feet and extended her hand. "Thank you so much. We'll be in touch once we've drawn up your contract and then we can go into more detail about how the process will work."