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Crazy, Undercover, Love
Nikki Moore
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
Contents
I've adored writing and reading since forever and have always been a sucker for love stories so I'm delighted to join the fabulous HarperImpulse team!
I write short stories and fun, touching, sexy contemporary romance and really enjoy creating intriguing characters and telling their stories. A finalist in writing competitions since 2010, including Novelicious Undiscovered 2012, I'm a member of the fantastic Romantic Novelists’ Association.
I blog about three of my favourite things – Writing, Work and Wine – at www.nikkimooreauthor.wordpress.com and am passionate about supporting other writers as part of a friendly, talented and diverse community, so you'll often see other authors pop in!
You can find me at https://www.facebook.com/NikkiMooreAuthor (Author Page) or https://www.facebook.com/NikkiMooreWrites or on Twitter @NikkiMoore_Auth to chat about love, life, reading or writing … I'd love to hear from you.
This story is dedicated to;
My wonderful children for putting up with me disappearing into my writing room at odd times!
My friends and family for their unwavering support and belief that one day I would get a publishing deal.
The wonderful members of the Romantic Novelists' Association, the most friendly and professional organisation I've ever been a part of.
The fantastic HarperImpulse team – we've got the love!
And a special mention to my aunt, author Sue Moorcroft, who has been a constant source of support and inspiration to me. Without her clear constructive criticism, valuable advice and emotional cheerleading I'm sure it would have taken me much longer to achieve my dream.
DAY ONE
– Friday –
I should have said no; it would have been the smart – aka sane – thing to do.
But there was a time limit on the offer and Amy caught me in a moment of desperation after I’d woke to yet another thick batch of overdue bills and polite job rejections. The feeling tripped a yes straight off my tongue, and now I’ve realised that maybe this isn’t such a good idea, it’s too late. I’m dashing across the city, yanking my purple case along behind me on squeaky wheels. So I can’t back out now; I’m committed. More importantly the reason for agreeing to this crazy Plan B, on the basis that sensible Plan A isn’t working, stands. It’s probably my last chance to hang onto life as I know it. Sounds a bit dramatic, but there it is.
The bitter wind increases its howling across the West India Quays footbridge, tearing through my belted winter coat. ‘Bugger it!’ I shudder. As well as being freezing, the force of the gale is making staying upright a challenge. My favourite (yes, okay, impractical) stiletto ankle boots are battling for grip in the snowy slush.
I’m so bloody cold it’ll be a miracle if my ears are still attached to my head, in fact they’ve gone completely numb, and there’s also a familiar ache starting deep in my throat. Great. I don’t need to get ill on top of everything else. To finish off my bad mood, the Arctic draught is trying to pick my hair out of the stylish