Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Marrying Mr Valentine
Laura Barnard
Copyright © 2018 Laura Barnard.
First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified
as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
This book is dedicated to my gorgeous cousin Megan.
Always my faithful companion at signings, the book world wouldn't be the same without you and your shenanigans by my side.
Love you lots x
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Free Book!
Acknowledgments
Also by Laura Barnard
Chapter One
Tuesday 2nd January
‘It’s off. The wedding; it’s cancelled,’ she sniffs down the phone.
Crap. I’ve barely gotten to my desk after the Christmas break and already I’ve got Miss Samson calling with a cancellation. I’ve never had this happen before. Especially with only a little over a month before the wedding. I suppose that’s shocking considering I’ve been doing this for over a year.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ I say as delicately as I can, ‘and you’re one hundred percent sure you want to cancel? You don’t want to have a think about it? You realise you’ll lose your deposit…’
I have heard the Christmas period is the most stressful time for couples. Thank God, I don’t have a stupid man to argue with.
‘Fuck the deposit!’ she snaps, so loudly I have to hold the phone away from my ear. ‘He’s been shagging his secretary. He gave me herpes! It’s as black and white as that.’
What a happy new year she’s having.
‘Oh dear. Well, okay. I’m so sorry. If I can find someone to take your place, I’ll speak to my boss about possibly refunding your deposit.’ It should be simple enough. We have a two-year waiting list.
‘Oh, Nadine,’ she sighs with another sniff. ‘I’m going to miss you. You’ve been so helpful. I feel as if we’ve become friends.’
‘Me too.’
I hope she doesn’t ask me out for a drink or anything. That would be weird. Of course, I come across as the perfect friend when she’s paying me, but I don’t have time in my life for another friend. I have enough trouble keeping up with the ones I have.
‘Well, thanks for everything, Nadine. Goodbye.’
Right. Some bride-to-be is going to have her day made and have her wedding on the 3rd February. I scan my hand down the list. A Miss Blumenkrantz and Mr Valentine. I punch in the numbers.
‘Hello,’ a female voice answers hastily, already sounding like I’m a PPI caller she’s eager to dismiss. Little does she know I’m about to make her year.
‘Hello Miss Blumenkrantz, I have some potential good news for you.’
Thursday 4th January
The couple are coming in today for our first meeting. It’s where I would usually learn more about them and get a general gist of how they want their wedding. But that’s when we're usually about two years in advance of the wedding. With just over a month to plan this, I’m going to have to go a bit more in depth and get this show on the road.
I look up at the sound of the door banging to see a tall blonde—only slightly shorter than me—waltz in with all the confidence in the world. She flicks her perfectly tousled hair behind her shoulder. She looks like a Hollywood movie star.
‘Hi, I’m Miss Blumenkrantz. I assume you’re Nadine?’ She starts undoing her double-breasted cobalt-blue coat. It looks expensive.
‘Yes.’ I stand and shake her hand, trying not to look intimidated. Wow, she nearly pulls my arm out of the socket. That’s one strong handshake. ‘Glad to meet you.’
‘The pleasure’s mine,’ she nods with a wide smile. ‘Call me Clara. I can’t tell you how happy I am that a date came up. Everyone is talking about this place.’
‘Yes,’ I nod. ‘We were named best wedding venue of 2017 by Confetti Bride,’ I add proudly.
‘I heard. My cousin actually owns the venue.’
I frown. ‘Your cousin? Do you mean Hugh?’
Hugh is my best friend, Florence’s, husband. They got married here themselves just a year ago on Christmas day and he surprised her by buying the place.
‘Yes, that’s him. Daddy prefers to keep our money in the family, so he’s over the moon Hugh bought the venue of my dreams.’
Daddy? God, she’s a posh bird. Generally, anyone over the age of eleven that still calls their dad "Daddy" is either rich or has mental health issues. Jesus, what a small world with Hugh being her cousin. I’ll have to be careful as fuck with this one. If anything goes wrong, Hugh will kick my arse. Of all the people on the waiting list I had to call his cousin to get married in a month.
I can’t help but notice that Mr Valentine’s not here yet.
‘I’m sorry, I thought you were bringing your fiancé too? I normally find it good to meet both of you. It gives me a better idea of you guys as a couple.’
She waves her hand towards the door. ‘He’s just parking the car. He’ll be in soon.’
As if right on cue, the door opens and in walks an absolute god of a man. That’s the only way to describe him. He’s got longish blonde hair, long enough to tie back into a roughly put up top knot that I would normally despise. Only he easily carries it off. He has the broadest shoulders I’ve ever seen and a jaw so square he could be made of Lego. Fuck me, he’s fit. Where the hell did she find him? He’s like a sexy Viking.
I quickly look down at my paperwork to hide my blushes. Of course, I’m used to meeting good looking men in this line of work, but this guy is like nothing else I’ve ever seen. He could be a model, but I doubt he is. He looks too manly to want to prance around in his underwear. What a shame for the UK population of women.
He doesn’t look her type. She’s posh and business-like, whereas he looks casual and strong. God, he could be a lumberj
ack with a body like that. I’d watch him take down a tree any day. Or take a look at his wood if you know what I mean. Jesus, how did my thoughts get so filthy so quickly?
‘Hey,’ he says to her, his voice low and husky.
Fuck, if it was possible to come from just hearing a voice I’d be screaming like a crazy person right now. I must really need to get some.
She pats the seat beside her. ‘Come on, darling. Nadine here was just talking to us about things.’
He juggles his keys and eventually puts them in his trouser back pocket before making himself comfortable on the chair. It’s only then that he looks at me. His eyes widen for a split second, as if shocked by something, but he quickly recovers. Do I have something in my teeth?
‘So, what kind of things?’ he asks, looking me dead in the eye. God, he’s got the most amazing forest-green eyes, with just a hint of hazel around the edges. I feel my body heat as they search my face.
Clearing my throat in a desperate attempt to pull myself together, I place my hands on the desk to try to stop them shaking.
‘I’d just like an idea of what you have in mind for your special day.’
He snorts and rolls his eyes. ‘Best ask my fiancée. She’s the one steaming ahead with it all.’
Steaming ahead with it all? They’ve been on the waiting list for over eight months. I’d hardly say that’s rushing things. Shame he sounds like a non-committal prick. I wonder if that's why she's not accepted a cancellation before now?
She protrudes her eyes at him, as if warning him to shut up, before quickly looking back to me with a smile.
‘What he’s trying to say, is that I’m handling all of the minor details. I’m thinking a black and white theme. Very glamourous, sophisticated. Almost art deco.’
I nod along, deliberately trying not to look at the sexy eyes on his glorious face. ‘Okay. That sounds like something we can do. I’ll just write down some particulars.’
‘Actually, I have a better idea,’ she interrupts.
What is it about this woman that tells me she’s going to be hard work? She’s high maintenance from the tip of her Louboutin’s to the top of her perfectly highlighted hair.
‘Really?’ I ask with a pleasant smile I long since learned to master.
She claps her hands together. ‘You simply have to come to our engagement party. That way you can see my sense of style for yourself.’
‘Oh... okay.’
I’m not used to clients inviting me out to things. Most of them have already celebrated their engagement by the time they come to me. It doesn’t really make sense that they’d only be having an engagement party now.
‘So, you’re just having an engagement party now, even though you’ve been engaged for...?’ I look around in my notes, but I don’t have that specific information.
‘We’ve only been engaged for a month,’ Mr Valentine says.
‘Oh.’ I frown. ‘It’s just that I’ve had you on the waiting list for eight months.’
He frowns back at me before turning to her. ‘What is she going on about?’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Well, naturally, darling, I suspected for a while now that you were going to propose. So, I just... made sure we were giving ourselves a fighting chance securing the place.’
‘Before I’ve even seen the venue?’ he asks, clearly horrified. ‘What if hated it?’
She rolls her eyes, a dismissing smile on her lips. ‘Sweets, it won best venue in 2017. What more is there to know?’
He drags his hand through his hair, clearly counting to ten. I get a feeling he does that a lot.
She smiles, pleased he’s been put to rest. ‘So, I’ll email you the details of the engagement party.’
I smile. What is it about this couple that tells me this isn’t going to be your normal wedding?
Chapter Two
Friday 5th January
‘I can’t believe I got talked into attending this engagement party,’ I whine to my best mate Florence down the phone as the taxi pulls up outside their venue.
I’m beyond tired after overseeing today’s wedding at the pub. The couple had a Harry Potter theme, so I’ve left Dumbledore in charge for the rest of the evening. Hugh promised he’d lock up later.
‘Just don’t go. It’s going above and beyond your job role.’
I laugh. ‘You know me. I’ll either do it one-hundred-and-ten-percent or not bother at all.’
I do wish I was able to say no sometimes though. It would get me out of these stupid scenarios.
‘Well in this case, I think you should not bother at all. Would it have been so bad for you to have that weekend off?’ she sighs. ‘We could have booked a spa trip!’ She shrieks down the phone comically.
I sigh, as I thank the Uber driver. ‘You know I can never relax at those things, so what’s the point?’
I really don’t see the point in just sitting around in robes with absolutely nothing to do. I’d go stir crazy. It sounds more stressful to me.
‘All I’m saying, is that you should give yourself a break. Remember, we don’t need the extra business. We’re completely booked up for the next two years.’
I nod, a smug smile she can’t see gracing my face. ‘Yes, and that’s because I put everything I have into every wedding.’
‘Okay,’ she says on a sigh, clearly not believing me. ‘Whatever you say.’
‘Anyway, I was half expecting to find out you were coming too, with it being Hugh’s cousin.’
‘Afraid not, love muffin. I’ve been working all day at a shoot and I’m knackered. Hugh’s going though. He’s just getting ready now, so I’ll tell him to look out for you. I still think you work too hard.’
I look up at the swanky wine bar that’s been hired for the event. It’s completely the opposite to our rustic barn venue, but she clearly knows what she wants. I can’t see anyone arguing with her. Ever. I wonder what she does for a living?
‘Trust me. It’s still easier than teaching.’
I taught reception class for ten years, but I was more than ready for the career move. Whoever said teaching is so rewarding has clearly not had to deal with five-year-olds shitting themselves.
‘Well, at least try to have fun tonight.’ She starts giggling. ‘Hugh, stop it, I’m on the phone.'
God, those two are gross. It’s been a year. You’d think they’d have gotten over the honeymoon period by now. But then I suppose they did only meet a month before getting married. Not exactly your normal scenario. I end the call without saying goodbye.
I pull my shoulders back and brace myself. Show time.
I walk in with a forced confident smile. It drops off my face as soon as I realise how opulent it is here.
The walls are painted a glossy black. Huge golden mirrors adorn the walls with liquor stacked on shelves against them. The bar is gold; the bar stools a grey velvet. Okay, this place is bloody swanky.
The worst thing is that everyone seems to be in cocktail dresses. Yet, here I am in just my smart jeans, and heels—from New Look. There isn’t a single heel here that isn’t painted red. A cheapy in a sea of Louboutin’s. One woman turns, dressed in a silver frock that clings to her tiny body, and gives me a look of disdain. Hmm, nice friends.
‘There you are, Nadine!’ I look up to see Clara walking towards me, her arms out as if to embrace me.
You’d think I’d be used to all this kissy-kissy stuff being in the wedding business, but I’m not. Rich people make me itch. She pulls me in, squishing her cheek against mine and making a kissing noise, rather than connecting her lips.
‘You have to come and meet my father.’
I smile, even though she didn’t seem to pause to consider if I wanted to. I haven’t even got a drink yet. Not that I can probably afford the prices here. I might have to put it on my credit card.
Her father is the brother to Hugh’s horrendous mother, whose company I had to endure during their wedding. How I didn’t bitch slap that old cow I’ll never know. I’m
such a good friend.
She pulls me towards a man of only about five-feet-eight, with greying hair. So far, he looks nothing like Hugh’s mother. Let’s hope he’s not as evil.
‘Daddy, this is our wedding planner, Nadine.’
He takes my hand and shakes it violently. Ah, so that’s where she gets her handshake from.
‘Good to meet you, Nadine. I hope you’re looking after my Princess here.’ He smiles fondly at her as if she were still a six-year-old girl.
I force a smile, hoping it isn’t a grimace. ‘Of course.’
‘That’s good to hear. I’m told by my nephew, Hugh, that you’re an excellent planner.’
I’m actually the manager, but whatever. If he wants to refer to me as a wedding planner so be it. Most people do.
He turns to Clara. ‘Where has Hartley got to?’
Hartley. What an unusual name. It suits him.
She rolls her eyes. ‘Oh, he’s around here somewhere sulking.’
‘Sulking?’ her father asks, a line having appeared between his eyebrows. ‘Why on earth is he sulking? I’ve given him permission to take your hand. He should be the happiest man on the planet.’
Err... maybe he’s met her? It’d take a complete saint not to have second thoughts.
Hartley’s suddenly walking past, looking delicious in a navy wool suit with a crisp, white, open-necked shirt. Clara leans out and wraps her hand firmly around his wrist. ‘Here he is.’ She leans in and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.
‘Hartley, my daughter here says you’re sulking. I hope that’s not the case?’ There’s warning in his voice. He’s definitely related to Hugh’s mother.
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