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Chasing the Sun: The laugh-out-loud summer romance you need on your holiday!

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Год написания книги
2018
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CHAPTER 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 1 (#ulink_b54f7ee2-6982-5b86-b46a-9b0691a9b0a4)

Transitory (adj.) – Lasting only a short time; brief; temporary

‘Honey, I’m home!’ I sang, pulling my key out of the sticky lock of our front door. It came loose with a tug. I flicked on the lights, illuminating the dark hallway, which was filled with cardboard boxes waiting to be packed for the big move.

‘In here, babe,’ Ben called from the kitchen of our flat. The soothing smells of spaghetti Bolognese currently simmering away in there flooded my nostrils. ‘You’re back late.’

I tried not to trip over the death-trap boxes lining my path and went to wrap my arms around his broad frame, leaning my head against his back. ‘Time ran away with me, again.’ I sighed. ‘Fancy a glass?’ I nodded at the bottle of wine I’d picked up from the off-licence on the way home.

‘Yeah, go on then. Only a small one as I need to be up early and clear-headed tomorrow.’

‘Ah yeah, or should that be ja?’ I put on a pretty crap Finnish accent, making him laugh.

He turned to face me, and kissed my forehead. ‘I think that’s Dutch not Finnish.’

‘Hmm, languages never were my forte. I know you’ve told me before, but what time’s your flight?’

‘Some godforsaken hour, waaaaay before you wake up. But at least it means I’ll be back here tomorrow night to help with more packing. Speaking of tomorrow, you all set?’

‘I’ll need to do a little work after dinner to make sure it’s pitch perfect, but I think we’re nearly ready.’ I smiled and poured out two glasses of wine.

The bank had an entrepreneurial scheme that we had been trying to get involved in for almost six months now. When I’d received a call saying they wanted to meet us to pitch to them, along with two other companies, the pressure had been on to impress them. If we nailed this, it could mean a major investment into Lonely Hearts Travels, allowing us to expand our services, and hire more dedicated staff. There were still markets we hadn’t branched out to where I was desperate to set up one of our tour groups. We were doing well, but our profits were always ploughed back into our business, so trying to free up extra cash to develop what we offered was tricky; this scheme could really help us out.

‘Dinner and relax first, and then you can run through it with me if you need an honest opinion.’

‘Deal. To be fair, Kelli has been awesome. You should see the video montage she’s pulled together. If they don’t get goosebumps when watching it, then they must be made of stone.’

‘You’re forgetting they’re a group of bankers.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘They were probably born with a chequebook instead of a heart.’

‘I’m telling you, after watching this and hearing what we have to say, even they can’t fail to be moved to put their hands in their pockets.’

‘I’m sure; it will be perfect. I know it will, just like everything else,’ he winked.

I smiled; he was right. We were going from strength to strength with our joint business, Lonely Hearts Travels. Our second office in London had been making enough of a profit for us not to worry about the bold move to open it, and many customers were returning from their group travel adventures with praise, five-star reviews and great word-of-mouth recommendations. Until now, we’d been juggling the workload of our flagship store in Manchester with a fairly normal home-life routine, but the time had come for us to take the plunge and buy a place in London, as commuting was taking it out of both of us. I was excited about being a homeowner with the person I loved most in the world, and as much as I adored Manchester, I couldn’t wait to embark on a new life in the capital. Plus, I was sick of the sight of these bloody boxes, crates and bubble wrap in every room of our flat.

Ben turned and spooned some Bolognese into my mouth. ‘Well, life will be perfect, once you’ve tasted this.’

I licked my lips and swallowed the tangy tomato sauce. ‘Hmm, maybe a little more black pepper,’ I teased, as he tickled me in my side.

‘Oi. This is seasoned exactly right, you horror!’ He laughed and began plating up dinner as I topped up our wine glasses. ‘Perfection in a bowl, I’d say.’

We negotiated our way around the boxes and wandered through to the lounge. I flicked on the television. ‘Netflix or Sky?’ I asked, as he gently put the steaming bowls down on the coffee table. It had been ages since we’d snuggled up on the sofa together. Sadly, I would have to limit myself to one hour of relaxing, then I needed to have another read-through of things for tomorrow.

‘Babe?’ I repeated.

Ben was staring intently at his mobile phone. ‘Sorry?’ He glanced up.

‘What do you want to watch?’

He hurriedly flicked off his phone and put it in his pocket. ‘Oh, err, Netflix? We’ve not finished watching this season of Narcos, remember?’

I faffed around with the TV and settled back into the sofa, trying not to feel put off by how distracted he’d been recently. It wasn’t just work; there was something else on his mind, but whenever I asked him he said everything was fine.
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