By Liz Fielding
Urban lady IN education Philly Gresham by no means desired to be a "city girl". a lot to the annoyance of her mom and dad, the leisure of her shrewdpermanent brothers and sisters and the exasperation of her boss, she had no ambition in any respect. She simply desired to remain within the city the place she'd been born, marry the boy subsequent door, elevating their infants and residing fortunately ever after. And she'd do it, too, simply once Don lifted his head out of the engine of the 1922 Austin he used to be rebuilding for lengthy sufficient to suggest. Then time ran out. Philly's father took early retirement and her mom determined it used to be excessive time that they had a few experience, in order that they permit the relatives domestic and went to go to their extra adventurous offspring in international components. ahead of she might utter a protest, Philly have been organised right into a new activity within the urban and a flat-share with ladies she'd by no means met sooner than. correct round the corner to a guy who raised her pulse, her heart-rate and her mood in a manner that Don hadn't controlled as soon as in ten years. It used to be a complete new existence - and one for which she'd had no education… urban lady in education is a part of the "Fresh, flirty and feel-good…" TANGO sequence and the first actual booklet in Harlequin sequence romances to be written within the first individual. try out the extract to find precisely what sort of difficulty Philly will get into the minute she hits city!
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Trying to work out quite why my heart was sinking like a stone. Clearly it had nothing to do with the man who lived next door. It had to be because I was alone on a Friday night in a city where I had no friends. My parents were thirty thousand feet above terra firma in another time zone and the man in my life, if he wasn’t cosied up with his beloved car, was down the pub having a good time without me. So I did what I always did when I felt down. I opened the fridge. What I needed—and urgently—was food.
His skin so deeply tanned that he looked Italian, or possibly Greek. But he struck out on handsome. There was nothing smooth or playboy pretty about his features. His cheekbones were too prominent, his nose less than straight and there was a jagged scar just above his right eyebrow, giving the overall impression of a man who met life head-on and occasionally came off worst. That was okay. There was something about a cliché that was so off-putting. Two out of three was just about right. Tall, dark and dangerous was more like it, because his eyes more than made up for any lack of symmetry.
The one with number seventy-two on the door. So, he really was gay. Until I saw him open his front door, I hadn’t realised how much I wanted to be wrong about that. The little heart-sink moment of regret was pure selfishness, I knew. Sheer arrogance to think that he was the one missing out. I don’t suppose he thought that for one moment. Cal McBride had been, was being, kind and suddenly London looked a lot more welcoming. Okay, as I picked up the broken china I admit that I did have a momentary qualm about Don.