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Other People’s Business
Pamela Yaye
MILLS & BOON
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Acknowledgments
I have been blessed with a God-given talent and I am truly thankful for my gift. Without God as the head of my life, I don’t know where I would be.
This novel would have never come to fruition had it not been for the love and unconditional support of my family.
To my husband, Jean-Claude, I adore you and I am honored to be your wife. Thanks for believing in me and calling me an author long before I ever achieved success.
Mom and Dad, you are incredible people of God and wonderful parents. Thanks for teaching me the ways of the Lord and for modeling love, faith and respect in our home.
Bettey, you’re my best friend and my life is sweet because you’re in it. Love you, Miss B!
Kenny, you’re the coolest big brother a girl could have! Thanks for reading the first draft of the book and giving it a thumbs-up.
To my Super-Agent, Sha-Shana Crichton, you are a godsend! You’re the first person, outside of my family and friends, who believed in me. Any success I achieve is a direct result of your dedication, professionalism and enthusiasm. You rock, Sha-Shana!
To my editor, Mavis Allen, thank you for making Other People’s Business the best novel it can be.
I have grown tremendously as a writer and I appreciate your insight and invaluable contributions.
Special thanks to the following people who encouraged me, supported me, lifted me up in prayer and gave me godly counsel: Pastor and Sister Farquharson, Pastor and Sister Dawkins, Tommy and Donna Thompson, Misan and Joyce Odidison, Dorothy and Trevor Johnson, Verona and Fitzroy Allen, Mary Odidison, Sam and Shermain Babalola, Natasha and John Otitoju, Marla Johnson, Crystal Wiens and all the wonderful writers in CARWA.
Contents
Chapter 1
“This file needs to be delivered to Rawlins and McGill right away. Mr. Whithers has to have this package before he leaves for the day, and I don’t have the time or the patience to wait for that bungling courier. Since you did the bulk of the work on the report, I’d like you to take it over, Ms. Nicholson.”
Autumn Nicholson glanced up from her computer screen and inconspicuously closed her message box. Ms. Barstow would skin her alive if she caught her surfing the Internet during working hours. It was Friday afternoon and near quitting time but her gray-haired boss wouldn’t care, she would ream her out all the same.
Ms. Barstow remained firmly planted in the doorway, cueing Autumn she was expected to leave, immediately. Thank God I didn’t duck out early, she thought, hastily packing her briefcase.
