Midnight At Tiffany's

by Sarah Morgan

  Praise for Sarah Morgan

  ‘A gorgeously sparkly romance’

  –Julia Williams

  ‘The perfect book to curl up with’

  –Heat

  ‘Full of romance and sparkle.’

  –Lovereading

  ‘I’ve found an author I adore – must hunt down everything she’s published.’

  –Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

  ‘Morgan is a magician with words.’

  –RT Book Reviews

  ‘Dear Ms Morgan, I’m always on the lookout for a new book by you …’

  –Dear Author blog

  SARAH MORGAN is the bestselling author of Sleigh Bells in the Snow. As a child Sarah dreamed of being a writer, and although she took a few interesting detours on the way she is now living that dream. With her writing career she has successfully combined business with pleasure, and she firmly believes that reading romance is one of the most satisfying and fat-free escapist pleasures available. Her stories are unashamedly optimistic, and she is always pleased when she receives letters from readers saying that her books have helped them through hard times.

  Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children, who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. When she isn’t writing or reading Sarah enjoys music, movies, and any activity that takes her outdoors.

  Readers can find out more about Sarah and her books from her website: www.sarahmorgan.com She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.

  Midnight at Tiffany’s

  Sarah Morgan

  www.mirabooks.co.uk

  Dear Reader

  New York is one of my favorite cities. I’ve been lucky enough to visit several times and each time I arrive in Manhattan and stare up at the skyscrapers I feel as if I’ve stepped onto a film set. It’s the setting for many of my favorite movies – When Harry Met Sally, One Fine Day, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, even the beginning of Sweet Home Alabama (remember that scene at Tiffany’s?).

  It’s a magical place, and last year when I visited with family and explored the wonders of Central Park and admired the incredible view from Top of the Rock, I decided it would make the perfect setting for my new series.

  Midnight at Tiffany’s opens the series, and I had so much fun writing this novella. It’s fun, sexy and unashamedly romantic and offers a peep at the characters you’ll meet in the other books. The heroine, Matilda, is working for an event company as a way of earning money while she pursues her dream of being a writer. She’s clumsy, awkward and a little bit shy and deep down she aspires to be as tough and sexy as the women in her books. She doesn’t believe love will happen for her in real life, but she’s about to discover that under the sparkling lights of New York at night, anything can happen.

  I hope you love reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love chatting with readers and am active on most forms of social media so I hope you’ll join me on Facebook or Twitter, and if you’d like to see some of the pictures that provided inspiration while I was writing, follow me on Pinterest and Instagram.

  Welcome to From Manhattan with Love. I hope all your dreams come true.

  Love Sarah

  xxx

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Praise for Sarah Morgan

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Dear Reader

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Extract

  Endpage

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  “CHAMPAGNE?”

  Matilda circulated carefully among the glamorous crowd, trying to keep her eyes off the glittering view of the Manhattan skyline and concentrate on keeping the tray steady. The last thing she needed was another catastrophic spill. She’d already had one warning from her boss and even though, technically, her last disaster hadn’t been her fault she knew another accident would get her fired. Her brief was to be invisible, and she considered herself perfectly qualified for the job.

  In a world where extroverts were celebrated, she was an introvert. She’d spent most of her life blending into the background. First in the playground, where she’d hidden away in books written by other people, and then at college, when she’d hidden in the books she’d written herself. Lost in her own fictional world, she became each and every one of her heroines and endowed them with qualities she herself coveted, namely courage, communication skills and coordination.

  Her current creation was Lara Striker, small-town girl finally returning home and trying to live down her badgirl reputation.

  Matilda stared through the crowd, her mind absorbed.

  What would it be like to have a reputation as a bad girl? How would it feel to live a life of daring and adventure, full of wild affairs, and travel to far-off places? To walk into a room and know that people were nudging each other and whispering in awed tones “that’s her.”

  “Matilda?! Matilda!”

  Matilda blinked and returned to the real world.

  There was only one person who used that caustic tone when addressing her. Her boss. Her nemesis.

  Cynthia, Director of Events.

  She gripped the tray a little tighter.

  Over Cynthia’s shoulder she saw her colleague Eva pull a face and make the shape of a shark’s fin with her hands. It cheered Matilda up.

  As always, Cynthia was wearing her corporate smile; the one she wore for every event along with her Star Events uniform. It sat there like an accessory, never reaching her eyes.

  This, Matilda thought, was her reality. The closest she came to being a bad girl was thinking very, very bad thoughts about her boss.

  “You’re staring into space,” Cynthia hissed between her teeth. “You’re here to work, not to gaze.”

  Lara Striker would have punched Cynthia right in the middle of that fake smile and added another crime to her already impressive list.

  Matilda simply nodded.

  In fiction, characters could punch their bosses and get away with it.

  In real life, you lost your job, and then you were dining on Cup-a-Soup seven nights a week instead of four. That was a fact of life, and at least this job allowed her to write.

  Her colleague Eva was mouthing something behind Cynthia’s back. Matilda couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it made her feel better to know she wasn’t alone.

  Apart from Cynthia, she worked with a great team of people, which was another reason she didn’t want to punch her boss. Working with Frankie, Eva and their team leader, Paige, was the most fun she’d had in her working life. She didn’t want to spoil that. When Cynthia was out of the office, they had fun. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she fitted. Not with the company, but with the group of women who were her colleagues. And friends, she reminded herself. As someone who was cautious with strangers and didn’t make friends easily, those friends were more precious than any of the jewelry on display tonight.

  “I realize there are celebrities here,” Cynthia managed to speak without disturbing the smile, “but you need to look through them. I don’t employ you to stand there gaping like a goldfish.”

  Lara Striker would know exactly where to put a goldfish.

  Matilda bobbed her head again. Experience had taught her to agree to everything. The best way to stay employed was to fly under Cynthia’s radar. She liked to think of herself as a stealth plane, traveling through life undetected. Of course, she was the passenger, whereas Lara Striker would have been in the pilot’s seat, her focus absolute.

  “I’
m trying to keep the tray straight, Cynthia.” Someone with her coordination challenges might have been better choosing a profession other than waitressing, but this job gave her the perfect opportunity to people-watch. She was able to observe the world through the rising bubbles in the champagne glasses without being expected to speak or socialize.

  Who were these people? What secrets were they hiding beneath silk, velvet and jewels? Who did they become when they returned home and stripped off the disguise they presented to the world?

  Pondering those questions was the reason she loved the job.

  That and the fact that she had access to some of the most exclusive venues in New York City.

  Like this one.

  The rooftop terrace offering panoramic views of Manhattan, far above the busy streets filled with discordant noise and the blur of yellow cabs. In another month or so, the pumping summer heat would be brutal, but for now a light breeze cooled the terrace. Everywhere you looked there were lights. They sparkled like the display in the windows of Tiffany’s, twisted through the elaborate greenery that adorned the edges of the terrace, adding more lights to a city that already had more than enough. High above there were stars in the sky, but it was as if they’d given up competing. At night, New York City felt like one big party. City of dreams.

  They were other people’s dreams, of course, but Matilda didn’t mind that. She didn’t think about the hard grind that was her life, because there was nothing she could do to change that reality, and most of the time she lived in a fictional world of her own creation.

  She could have stood and stared for hours, but even five minutes would have gotten her fired.

  Before she’d taken the job, she’d been warned that Star Events was known for their ruthless attitude toward their staff. The economic downturn combined with a glut of staff meant that if you didn’t perform perfectly, you were out.

  She couldn’t afford to lose her job.

  Remembering that, she held the tray a little tighter.

  “I’m concentrating, Cynthia.”

  “Tonight is a huge opportunity for Star Events. This is our second event for the Adams Construction Group and it’s catapulted us into a different league. We need to impress. Business creates more business. That account is worth more to us in a year than all the others put together, and tonight I intend to meet the man himself. Chase Adams. Did you read that article in Forbes? ‘The Man Who Has Everything.’ He is richer than Midas.” Cynthia lowered her voice in reverence. “He is here somewhere.”

  Probably hiding behind a curtain, counting his millions, Matilda thought, wondering if Cynthia actually knew what had happened to Midas. It hadn’t turned out so well for him. She hoped Chase was having better luck.

  She didn’t mention to Cynthia that she was hoping to meet him, too, but for different reasons.

  Chase Adams was a collector of rare books. He even had a library in one of his homes. She’d seen photos online and admired the oak cabinets and the books lined up in uniform rows, the lettering on the rainbow of spines offering tantalizing hints as to the worlds concealed inside.

  Matilda couldn’t imagine a house big enough to include a library. If she brought more than two paperbacks into her apartment, she had to throw something out to make room.

  Her main interest in meeting the legendary Chase wasn’t his library or his interest in books, though; it was his brother. Brett Adams ran a publishing company, and she was desperately hoping to find a way of getting her book to him. It made her shake even thinking about it, but she was just about desperate enough to push through her natural preference to hide from people and find the courage to speak to Chase.

  To do that, she thought about her mother.

  Never let fear stop you going after your dream.

  Matilda lifted her chin.

  She had a USB stick in her pocket, and a printed copy of the manuscript in her bag, stowed safely in the cloakroom.

  “I hope you manage to find him, Cynthia. And I hope he continues to give us lots of business.” It crossed her mind that relying on one company for the lion’s share of business probably wasn’t great practice, but it wasn’t her place to say so.

  Lara Striker would have said it, but it would have taken more than a man with money in the bank and a library in his house to impress Lara the lioness.

  Matilda’s mind wandered as she played with a few ideas for tweaking her character. Should she add in a few idiosyncrasies? Give Lara a few endearingly normal traits to make her more human? Perhaps she could be clumsy. No, she wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  She realized Cynthia was frowning at her. “Is something wrong?”

  “Your skirt! What’s happened to your skirt?”

  Matilda looked down in alarm, but her skirt looked the same as it had when she’d dressed hours earlier in the cramped single room that was home. One of the things she liked about the Star Events “uniform” was that in her black skirt and shirt she looked the same as every other waitress working tonight. Just taller. And a little more clumsy and awkward.

  “There’s something wrong with my skirt?”

  “It’s shorter than the regulation length. You’re not supposed to turn it up.”

  This same scenario had been repeated several times in her life and it never got any easier.

  Handcuffed by the drinks tray, Matilda couldn’t even tug at her hem. “It is the regulation length, but I have long legs, so it sits in a different place. I usually wear a slightly lower heel to compensate.”

  At school they’d called her Giraffe. She’d taken to sitting down whenever she could so that people didn’t tease her for being tall. She’d lost herself in books, because things happened in books that never happened in real life to tall, bespectacled, introverted teenagers.

  “It’s barely decent. You need to do something about it.”

  “My legs?” Matilda was bemused. “They’re—er—attached to me.”

  Lara Striker would have smacked one of her long legs right into Cynthia’s head with an impressive martial arts turning kick that would have left the other woman dazed with a concussion. Then she would have pinned Cynthia to the wall and lectured her on the importance of fostering positive body image.

  Matilda chose a different option. She tried to make herself smaller. She hated doing it, because it made her butt stick out.

  All her characters were normal sized and delicate boned. They didn’t have any of these problems.

  Cynthia’s smile vanished briefly. “Next time, wear a longer skirt. And if you see Chase Adams, don’t talk to him, and for pity’s sake don’t spill anything on him. Come and find me.” She stalked off before Matilda could point out that the likelihood of her identifying Chase Adams was slim, given that she had no idea what he looked like. His library, she would have recognized in her sleep, but as for the man himself, she had no idea. She was relying on someone else to point him out.

  Glancing around the room, she tried to spot someone who might fit his profile. She assumed he was old and fusty.

  The Man Who Had Everything.

  She’d read the piece, but there had been no photo of the man himself. Just images of glass and steel—properties that he’d built. And the library in his house.

  According to the article, he’d taken over his father’s company and grown it to ten times its original size. He was ruthless and focused. Matilda had shamelessly stolen aspects of his character for her heroine.

  Why should drive and ambition be the sole province of men? In her opinion, it shouldn’t be. That was another thing her mother had taught her.

  The only thing a man has that a woman doesn’t is a penis.

  Paige appeared by her side. “You’re doing a great job, Matilda. I really appreciate the extra hours you’ve put in on this one. We’re so lucky to have you on the team.”

  Matilda relaxed slightly.

  Paige was the opposite of Cynthia. In fact, Paige was the reason that half the staff of Star Events hadn’t resigned. She soo
thed and smoothed, was energetic and organized. Nothing rattled her, and no matter how much pressure was piled on her head from her superiors, she never let it leak through. Cynthia showered people with so much stress their skin shriveled like grass under attack from acid rain.

  “She hates me.”

  “She hates everyone.” Eva appeared and flashed her a smile. “You should put her in a book and kill her off.”

  “I don’t write that sort of book.”

  “You should. It would be cathartic. I’ll provide the weapon. We can make it look natural. Frankie knows all the poisonous plants. I could bake her a really tasty muffin. It’s super easy to disguise the taste of arsenic in baked goods.” Eva studied Matilda from the side. “Are you constipated? Because I have the perfect recipe for that.”

  Matilda squirmed awkwardly. “What makes you think I’m constipated?”

  “You’re standing weirdly. As if you’re about to sit on the toilet.”

  “I’m trying to be shorter.”

  “Why would you want to be shorter?”

  “Because Cynthia thinks I’m too tall. Or maybe my skirt is too short. I’m not totally clear about the nature of the offense, if I’m honest.”

  “I didn’t realize height was stipulated in the contract.” Frankie joined them, her gaze roaming over the floral displays as if daring a single bloom to wilt on her watch. A floral designer, Frankie was wildly creative, a trait Matilda admired as much as her vivid red hair and fiery personality.

  “You’re a perfect height,” Paige said. “You could be a model.”

  “Except that most models are elegant, and I can’t put one foot in front of the other without falling over.” If she could change one thing about herself it would be that. She hated being clumsy. She longed to be delicate and feminine. Paige moved like a dancer, Eva bounced and Frankie stalked. None of them stumbled.

  “Look at it this way—” Eva carefully straightened the tray Matilda was clutching “—you can look over the heads of all the over-made-up women, straight into the eyes of the taller men. There’s an advantage in every disadvantage.”