Styling Wellywood: A fashionable romantic comedy (Wellywood Series Book 2) Read Free

around, but she’s really, really sexy. She exudes it the way kids with colds exude snot. Not a nice image but you get the picture.
    I’m a straight woman, totally into men, and even I can see how sexy she is. It helps that s he’s tall and slim with long, thick, sandy blonde hair, big brown eyes, and cleavage many a woman would pay thousands for.
    O f course being a bona fide Wellingtonian, she’s dressed head to toe in unimaginative black, the locals’ favoured hue, but she manages to pull it off effortlessly without even a whiff of bag lady about her. If I met her today I think I’d hate her, but as it stands I’ve known her since we were thirteen years old when she was a shy, pimply girl with limbs too long for her body, and blackheads dotting her nose. Plus we’ve been through a lot together and she totally rocks.
    “ Morgs!” I shriek in excitement from my table, slightly muffled by the chocolate pastry yumminess I’m in the process of devouring. “Hello! I’ve ordered you a flat white. Come and sit down!”
    As she walks over, predictably half the patrons’ heads turn, and I leap up and give her a massive hug, breathing in her Stella perfume.
    “ It’s so fantastic to see you! Wow, you look so great,” I say.
    Releasing her from my embrace , she kisses me on the cheek.
    “ Thanks, babe. Local Wellington designer Mardle, you know,” she replies, proudly modelling her gorgeous ensemble.
    “ O.M.G. It’s just so great to have you back!” She sits down at our table in a flurry of bouncy hair and smiles. “Tell me, how was the flight?”
    “ Oh you know, twenty-four hours of hell, squashed up against a super-sized American called Hank or Chad or something whose tummy rolls attractively spilled over onto my seat. I had to climb over his mountainous belly every time I needed to go to the loo. One time I think I made his day when I accidentally got him in the face with my breasts,” I laugh, shuddering at the memory.
    “ You boobed him?” she laughs. “Well with that level of intimacy you know you’re going to have to marry him now, babe,” she comments, grinning and raising an eyebrow at me.
    “ Sadly he was already married, but otherwise I’m sure we’d be waltzing up the aisle next week,” I reply, playing along with the joke.
    Being single when all your friends are happily ensconced in coupledom seems to result in them always trying to find you a new love interest. At least they care, I suppose.
    There really i sn’t anyone I’d even remotely consider having a relationship with right now, which is kind of depressing. As I’d broken up with Cheating Scumbag Luke - one of my affectionate names for him. I have several more, all equally complimentary - about six months ago it really is about time I got back on that proverbial horse.
    I just need to wait for the right horse to saunter by , I guess, but I have serious doubts Wellywood can provide such a stud.
    A nd yes I know, I took the metaphor a little too far for good taste.
    T he young waiter places a cup of coffee in front of Morgan, almost spilling it over the table as he fails to disguise his longing gaze, tongue virtually hanging out of his mouth.
    “ Thanks so much,” she says, darting him a brilliant smile.
    He turns to leave and walks smack bang into a chair, almost falling back onto the counter, but nevertheless with a huge grin plastered on his face. You see the thing is that Morgan is not only totally hot but also incredibly nice to boot.
    A rare combination in this world, sadly.
    “ It’s so weird living back at home,” I say as I take another bite of my pain au chocolat.
    “ Ahhh yes, how is the lovely Cynthia?”
    “ Mum? Same old, same old,” I reply, shaking my head. “She made it pretty clear that she’d prefer me to be visiting for a few days with my lovely husband and adorable children than being forced to move back in with her in my penniless state. But she’ll just have to get over that.”
    A s she’s fond