New Year at the Ritz. Nikki Moore

      

      

      A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

       Copyright

      HarperImpulse an imprint of

      HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

      1 London Bridge Street

      London SE1 9GF

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014

      Copyright © Nikki Moore 2014

      Cover images © Shutterstock.com

      Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2014

      

      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 author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

      Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

      Ebook Edition © December 2014 ISBN: 9780008127220

      Version: 2017-10-10

       Dedication

       To Mark, for taking me to The Ritz and The Savoy…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 – 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

       Cover

       Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

       #LoveLondon Series

       New Year at The Ritz

       Also by Nikki Moore

       Nikki Moore

       About HarperImpulse

       About the Publisher

       #LoveLondon Series

       Skating at Somerset House

       New Year at the Ritz

       Valentine’s on Primrose Hill

       Cocktails in Chelsea

       Strawberries at Wimbledon

       Picnics in Hyde Park

       New Year at The Ritz

      '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,’ she muttered.

      'Oh, love…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.’

      'So now I share my name and a haircut with her.’ She stroked her exposed neck, feeling oddly naked with nothing covering her nape or tops of her ears. 'I'm going to be freezing – 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 don’t scalp me (b) Dad doesn't