Love...Among The Stars: Book 4 in the Love...Series (Love Series) Read Free

hyperactive seven-year-old girl. 'Be good for Grandma,' I tell her. 'Dad and I will be back tomorrow afternoon.'
    Her eyes widen. 'Can we go for KFC!?'
    'That stuff isn't good for you, Pops.'
    Her little face crinkles up. 'But I love it.'
    I hesitate, then smile and nod. 'Yes, of course we can honey.'
    This is another prime example of parental guilt leading to an over-indulged child, but I just don't have the time right now to argue with her - damn me and my stupid highfalutin' job.
    I kiss Poppy again and stand up. 'Thank you for taking care of her, Jane.'
    'My pleasure, Laura. It's the least I can do as a good and caring Grandmother.'
    There's a veiled insult there, I just know it, but my watch says three o'clock, and I have to get going. I issue another goodbye to them both and walk back to the car. Kyle sees me coming, stops playing Angry Birds, and fires up the Audi's engine.
    As the car pulls away, I wave at my little daughter, who waves back at me from the doorway. Right now I would cheerfully trade a night dressed in an evening gown for an evening in pyjamas with my little girl in front of the TV. Even if it did mean that Jane was also there, pointing out how many blackheads I've got.
     
    I didn't tell Jane the name of the hotel we would be staying at this evening. It might have sent her into apoplexy.
    The Dorchester is the type of hotel I would never stay at if I had the choice, because I am not insane. This is not necessarily an opinion I hold due to how expensive it is, but simply because its levels of poshness are so beyond my sphere of experience that I can't possibly have a nice time staying in it, for the constant fear of looking completely out of place.
    'Nice hotel you're staying at, Mrs Newman,' Kyle the driver remarks as we pull up to the expansive front entrance.
    'Yes!' I say, rather too quickly. 'It was the publisher’s idea, not mine!' I add just as fast, making sure to let Kyle know that I am not a complete arsehole.
    The car door is opened by a middle-aged man, dressed like an extra from My Fair Lady. He offers me a million pound smile from under his large peaked green cap, as he beckons me out of the vehicle. 'Good afternoon, madam,' he says, trying his best to get into my good books, but failing miserably for the use of the word 'madam'.
    'Afternoon,' I reply and get out of the car in as demure a fashion as I am able to. Being demure is not entirely possible in a pair of faded jeans, hooded duffle coat and high heels, but I give it my best shot anyway.
    Kyle has got my suitcase out of the boot, and he places it next to my feet with a flourish. I go to take the handle at exactly the same time as the My Fair Lady reject. We're both so swift and determined to be the one to get purchase on the suitcase that his hand inadvertently covers mine, and for one fleeting and excruciatingly awkward moment, I'm holding hands with a tall grey haired doorman in a jacket with more buttons down the front than is strictly necessary. 'Sorry!' I tell him, and whisk my hand away. I just can't get used to this level of personal service. The last time someone took my suitcase on the way into a building I was about to give birth.
    'Not at all, madam,' Peaky says with that same ingratiating smile.
    'Goodbye Mrs Newman,' Kyle says. 'Have a good time at the party.'
    'Thanks Kyle!' I blurt, grateful for the distraction from the embarrassment of unintentional handholding. 'Bye!'
    Kyle gives me a smile and makes his way back to the driver's seat. Peaky takes a firmer grip on my suitcase and holds out a hand towards the hotel lobby.
    I try my best to return the million pound smile, acutely aware that mine is probably more like three items for a quid in Poundland , and make my way towards the entrance.
     
    The Dorchester's lobby couldn't be more opulent if you fired the Queen into it with a bazooka, and I spend a few minutes idly gazing round at the marble columns and chandeliers, as the concierge sorts out my reservation on his