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

Short notice delays and cancellations

A week later and by some miracle, or rather bribery and the odd threat, Katya's flatmates had cleared out for the night, which meant she and Dexter would have the place to themselves to celebrate his return from LA.

Dexter's first visit to Great Yarmouth. So far all their meet-ups had taken place either in London or Glasgow, or midway points in between. It had taken her three hours to get the flat half-way decent looking.

The thought of showing him around made her nervous. The guy was returning from LA. Wouldn't Great Yarmouth's shabby 1950s seaside charm be lost on him? But on a clear sunny day Caister-on-Sea beach was heavenly, and she had a sneaky fondness for the Merrivale Model Village. As a child, her mother had taken her and her sisters there all the time. The four girls found the perfectly formed tiny houses, castle and cricket pitch fascinating and they speculated endlessly on the imaginary inhabitants of the place.

Nerves and excitement fizzed together. I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait... She moved to the fridge. Dexter was due in another couple of hours, which gave her time to rustle up something to eat. They could go out, but so far they had spent their time together in hotels. Katya had never made a man a meal in her flat before. Besides, if you ate something in your home you didn't have too far to go if lust hit you half-way through the main course. And she had Gaby's news to share too. What would Dexter make of it?

Katya took the food out of the plastic bag she'd dumped next to the sink. She'd bought the stuff the day before, but storing choice items in a communal kitchen was a mistake. Thanks to the cold weather, she'd been able to keep the food, well-wrapped in linen bags, outside. She peeled butternut squash and chopped onions, ginger and garlic for a Thai-style curry. Dexter shared her food views—responsible adults who cared about the planet should eat a plant-based diet most of the time. Even if both of them cheated occasionally, sliding down the slippery slope of cheese, chocolate and cream.

Half-way through cooking—the kitchen filled with the warm, toasty smells of dry‑roasted cumin, coriander, and garlic and ginger—her phone buzzed.

Dexter. Fab. He'd arrived early and wanted the directions to the house.

"Katya."

Funny how much information you got from a single word. This one told her instantly she was not about to hear good news. And that the guy who delivered it was about to utter an all-too‑familiar excuse. She beat him to it.

"You can't make it."

"I'm stuck in LA. A meeting dragged on and on and on, and now there's another one planned for the next day. I haven't had a moment to myself to pee, let alone phone my girlfriend."

Multiple sorrys followed. And a harking back to the warning he'd given her when they met up in London the week before. The launch of a beauty brand in a new country was A Big Thing. All employees were now in lock-down, working every hour of the day and night. You needed strategies and plans for everything—from social media, to digital ads, YouTube videos, celebrity ambassadors and more.

The flurry is short term, he added, but short-notice delays and cancellations were to be expected.

Great. Her American boyfriend had integrated himself so well into British culture, he sounded like an all-too‑regular announcement at a railway station.

I will not cry.

The burnt-bitter smell in the air reminded her she'd taken her eye off the curry. She took it off the gas ring and hoped that she could rescue the top. Good job only one of them would be eating it, as the bottom half appeared to be inedible. She'd given flatmate number four £20 to clear off for the evening. Was it too late to phone him and say, "Hey, you can come back if you want. There's some burnt, leftover curry if you like. And... um... can I have my twenty quid back?"