And The Bride Wore Prada

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher

KATIE OLIVER

loves romantic comedies, characters who ‘meet cute’, Richard Curtis films, and Prosecco (not necessarily in that order). She currently resides in northern Virginia with her husband and three parakeets, in a rambling old house with uneven floors and a dining room that leaks when it rains.

Katie has been writing since she was eight, and has a box crammed with (mostly unfinished) novels to prove it. With her sons grown and gone, she decided to get serious and write more (and hopefully, better) stories. She even finishes most of them.

So if you like a bit of comedy with your romance, please visit Katie’s website, www.katieoliver.com (http://www.katieoliver.com), and have a look.

Here’s to love and all its complications...

To my wonderful readers, who've supported me, encouraged me, and told me how much they enjoy my stories, this one's for you. With thanks to Clio Cornish, my fabulous editor, and to the writers at HQ Digital UK for their unstinting support and friendship.

Chapter 1 (#u44e47848-f6df-5205-a73d-ce4f46fc636d)

‘Flight 6072 to Inverness – Two-Hour Delay.’

Natalie clutched her Vuitton cosmetics case and stared at the electronic arrivals and departures board in dismay. She glanced over at her husband Rhys. ‘That’s us, then.’

Rhys took her arm and led her over to a row of seats – horrible, crowded, uncomfortable seats – in Heathrow’s British Airways departures lounge.

‘Nothing for it but to wait,’ he told her. ‘Have a seat and I’ll go and fetch us a coffee.’

With a sigh, she sank into a chair. The skies outside the airport were a gloomy, lowering grey, and despite her warm coat and boots and the promise of Christmas in the air, Natalie felt the chill in her very bones.

‘You know, Rhys,’ she grumbled, ‘we could be in the Galleries lounge right now, drinking martinis, if we’d only flown first class.’ She looked at him hopefully. ‘You could still upgrade our tickets.’