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Praise for Nina Harrington
‘I look forward to reading this author’s next release …
and her next … and her next. It truly is a stunning debut,
with characters that will remain in your thoughts
long after you have closed the book.’
—pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com on
Always the Bridesmaid
‘Rich with emotion,
and pairing two truly special characters,
this beautiful story is simply unforgettable. A keeper.’
—RT Book Reviews on
Hired: Sassy Assistant
‘A well-constructed plot and a scrumptious,
larger-than-life hero combined with generous amounts
of humour and pathos make for an excellent read.’
—RT Book Reviews on
Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds
About the Author
About Nina Harrington
NINA HARRINGTON grew up in rural Northumberland, England, and decided at the age of eleven that she was going to be a librarian—because then she could read all of the books in the public library whenever she wanted! Since then she has been a shop assistant, community pharmacist, technical writer, university lecturer, volcano walker and industrial scientist, before taking a career break to realise her dream of being a fiction writer. When she is not creating stories which make her readers smile, her hobbies are cooking, eating, enjoying good wine—and talking, for which she has had specialist training.
Also by Nina Harrington
Her Moment in the Spotlight
The Last Summer of Being Single
Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds
Hired: Sassy Assistant
Always the Bridesmaid
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Blind Date Rivals
Nina Harrington
MILLS & BOON
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CHAPTER ONE
‘WELL, good afternoon. Have I reached the offices of one Sara Jane Fenchurch? The same Sara Jane Fenchurch who is shortlisted to be the next local Businesswoman of the Year? I have Orchid Growers Monthly waiting on line two for an exclusive interview. Could that be you, Miss Fenchurch? Hiding behind the smuggest grin in the potting shed?’
Sara sat back in the chair she had rescued from a skip two weeks earlier and twirled her pen between two fingers like a cheerleader. Her best friend, Helen, waltzed into the cramped office on crazily high heels, whisked dirt from an old dining room chair with a perfectly manicured hand and perched elegantly on the edge of the hard seat.
‘Oh?’ Sara replied, wide-eyed in pretend amazement, and pressed the fingertips of her left hand to her chest. ‘Could that be little old me?’ And then she fluttered her eyelashes dramatically towards a framed newspaper cutting which dominated the plain wall of the log cabin which had been a potting shed but was now her garden office. A photographer from the local free newspaper had caught her grinning like a loon and looking as stunned as a rabbit caught in car headlights as the organiser congratulated her for being on the shortlist. ‘Why, yes, I believe it is. Fancy that. Maybe this year I will win it? That would be nice. Not to say useful. Cottage Orchids needs as much publicity as it can get, thank you.’
Helen snorted derisively and brushed away a trail of cobweb from the skirt of her otherwise immaculate burgundy bouclé suit. ‘Of course you’ll win and your orchids will be positively flying out of the door. Although …’ and Helen raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side as she looked at Sara from head to toe before tutting loudly ‘… you are going to need a serious makeover, young lady, if you want to impress those judges. We can start by getting rid of that hideous pen.’
Helen tried to snatch Sara’s favourite pen from between her friend’s fingers, but Sara was too quick for her and lifted it out of reach behind her head.
‘There is nothing wrong with my pen,’ Sara replied indignantly. ‘Leave it alone.’
‘It’s green and sparkly with a bendy plastic flower stuck on the top. Not very professional, is it?’
‘It came free with a bag of orchid compost and I like it and it writes,’ Sara replied. ‘Professional pens are for girls who have money to spend on luxuries. Not girls who need to save every penny to invest in their orchid houses.’
Helen sighed out loud and shook her head. ‘A green flowery pen. What would the Dragon have said?’ Then she grinned across at Sara, pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and went on in a thin, high, whiny voice of horror, ‘How inelegant, my dears. The shame.’
Sara laughed out loud, pushed the pointy end of her green pen behind her ear so that the yellow flower bobbed up and down at Helen, and leant her elbows on top of the pile of papers stacked several inches thick on the pine kitchen table which served as her office desk. The headmistress at the private boarding school where Sara had first met Helen had been a former actress and was famous for seizing on every opportunity for an over the top dramatic performance. Helen had always been able to mimic her perfectly.
‘Maybe you are right, but at least one of us didn’t let her down on the elegance front.’ Then Sara brightened and looked at Helen through narrowed eyes. ‘You look far too
