New Year at the Ritz. Nikki Moore
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014
Copyright © Nikki Moore 2014
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Nikki Moore asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
Ebook Edition © December 2014 ISBN: 9780008127220
Version: 2017-10-10
To Mark, for taking me to The Ritz and The Savoyâ¦but making me feel like a princess no matter where we go or what we do.
To my editor, Charlotte, for sharing cocktails at The Ritz with me just after offering me my first contract and making my dreams come true.
To my readers; Happy New Year â here's to a brilliant 2015.
Nb. While the very glamorous setting for this book is real, the events are not, and some elements of the story contain necessary poetic licence
Contents
Skating at Somerset House
New Year at the Ritz
Valentineâs on Primrose Hill
Cocktails in Chelsea
Strawberries at Wimbledon
Picnics in Hyde Park
'Oh, balls!' Frankie Taylor stared at the mirror in dismay. She touched a hand to the back of her neck, where she used to have hair, and glared at her hairdresser in their shared reflection.
'You don't like it?' Davey asked, freezing with comb and scissors in mid-air against the backdrop of the heavy chrome and red leather salon. 'You said you wanted something different, a fresh start.'
'Yes, I wanted a change, because everyone keeps on at me to move on, and a new haircut is easier than bowing to pressure and getting a boyfriend.' She yanked on the ends of her glossy black hair, which were now only a few inches from her scalp, rather than shoulder length. 'By something different, I didn't mean half-bald!' The amount of hair on the floor was truly disturbing. 'So much for treating myself to a nice post-Christmas present,â she muttered.
'Oh, loveâ¦I really thought you wanted something radical and besides, I've always thought short hair would suit you.' Putting scissors and comb down, he gently extracted her fingers from the newly blunt-cut locks and shaped the side-fringe across her forehead. 'It shows off those gorgeous almond-shaped violet eyes to perfection. And look at those cheekbones! You look a bit like Frankie from The Saturdays.â
'So now I share my name and a haircut with her.â She stroked her exposed neck, feeling oddly naked with nothing covering her nape or tops of her ears. 'I'm going to be freezing â it's mid-winter!' Shaking her head, she watched the strands fall back into place. 'Okay, I guess it's not that bad,' she conceded. She wouldn't look so pale with make-up on. It'd hardly been worth applying any today, given she lived three doors down from the hairdressers above a kebab shop and was off work until 5 January.
'No?' Davey heaved a relieved sigh.
'No. And you're right, it really shows off that stone I've lost since the break-up,' she said self-mockingly. 'Plus, we can hardly stick it back on, can we?' Wrinkling her nose, 'So what's the point in being upset?' She'd learnt the hard way there were some things you had to let go, some things you couldn't control.
'You said it,' he drawled, picking up the scissors again.
'Hold it! You're not taking any more off are you?'
'Just neatening up, my love,' he assured, sticking his tongue out at her. 'Relax.'
'I'll be relaxed,' she grumbled, 'if (a) you donât scalp me (b) Dad doesn't