by Brigid Coady
It didn’t matter if she didn’t catch it, she thought. For once, her competitive nature was quiescent. This was about taking part.
“One, two…” the wedding party chanted.
“Three!"
Mel had her back to the crowd, she leant forward bending her knees and swung the bouquet like a kettle bell, then up over her head in a two handed swoop. At the apex of the swing she let go and the flowers spun out end over end.
A forest of hands went up, the bouquet flying through the air, tumbling and Edie realised it was coming straight at her. And following the flowers was a shower of pink glitter like a comet trail.
Ah, she thought, someone or something was intervening.
She cupped her hands ready to catch it but coming straight towards her, hair flying and face fierce was Sophie.
Edie knew she didn't have time to get out of the way.
With Sophie and the bouquet bearing down on her, Edie braced herself to catch the flowers and be ready for the impact of the inevitable tackle.
This wasn’t going to be pretty.
But from nowhere, came a large jolly bridesmaid in the most beautiful forest green dress. She stuck out her foot.
Sophie tripped over it and fell full length in front of Edie, her fingertips just brushing Edie's toes.
The bouquet landed with a soft thump in Edie’s hands.
She stared at the flowers, at the white rosebuds just opening to show a blushing centre. And here and there were a flutter of butterfly wings and a spark of a firefly on the greenery.
It seemed the bouquet had been transformed during its flight.
Edie looked up into the glowing face and the shining eyes of the Ghost of Weddings Present.
“Thanks,” she said.
“My pleasure. Oh and congratulations.”
The Spirit winked and moved into the centre of the gyrating women dancing to Beyoncé.
“Nice catch. Have you thought of playing rugby? Or is it a case of needing the right incentive?” Jack said from behind her. She buried her face in the bouquet, hiding her blushes.
“Got any man in mind for that bouquet?” he asked as he came round so he was in front of her.
She looked up and shook her head. She couldn’t speak, in case she ruined the moment. They stood there, staring at each other.
“Let’s dance.” he said with a wink and held out his arms.
She melted into them.
As she span round the dance floor she saw the Ghost swigging from a champagne bottle while dancing wildly and waving her other hand. Edie couldn’t help but smile.
“You look beautiful when you smile.” Jack said.
Her heart stuttered. She looked up into his eyes.
“Not an ice queen?” she asked. She needed to know, even if it hurt her.
“I think the ice has melted,” he whispered in her ear as he pulled her closer. She rested her cheek on his chest.
As he twirled her round the room, she saw a familiar small blonde flower girl spinning in circles and giggling. She waved to Edie.
Held in Jack’s arms, she felt lighter than she had in years. It was as if shackles were unwinding themselves. Like she was shedding a chain.
“Hey, Slow”
She looked up into Jack’s face. He was smiling down at her and in his dark hair was a sprinkle of pink glitter. She lifted a hand to brush it away but he caught her fingers and brought them to his lips, warm breath tickled them and then he kissed them.
Her stomach fluttered.
His head dipped and she reached her head upwards. Her eyes flickered closed, his mouth captured hers and there was a ringing in her ears, the clanking of chains fading away completely.
“Definitely not an ice queen,” he said against her lips.
She giggled.
She hadn’t giggled in years.
He lifted her up and span her around. She threw back her head and laughed. When she looked out again, over Jack’s head, she saw yellow lace and grey hair sneaking out of the door. Edie nodded at the Spirit. Miss Havisham smiled.
Acknowledgements
If it takes a village to raise a child it took a small country to get this book to publication. First and foremost I'd like to thank my family; my mum, dad and sister, Annalise for their support. My parents taught me to read which opened up the world of words to me. I know sometimes they wished they hadn't, especially as they are currently storing a large part of my book collection. Annalise has been the best big sister a girl could ask for giving me love and support and kicks up the arse when needed. She is currently keeping me fed and watered and bullying me into getting some exercise.
I'd like to thank my writing family; the ties that bind us are as real and strong as blood. Julie Cohen for so much insight on writing craft, if only I’d listened better, and for all the years of crazy chats, late nights and obsessive fandoms. Anna Louise Lucia for the stone circles, warmth and love and laughter. Kate Walker for being the Virgin Mother and taking me in all those years ago.
My writing sister and critique partner, Liz Fenwick, without her wise words and judicious application of wine this book would not be where it is today. I also would be a poorer person. And to Liz's family for letting me 'borrow' her and I apologise for leading her astray.
For The Heroine Addicts, my blogging home, where Anna Louise, Julie, Liz plus Christina Courtney and Susanna Kearsley who let me burble on even when publication was just a dot on the horizon. Thanks for the faith and fun.
When you decided to become a writer you need to have a touch of the obsessive and a whole lot of faith. You also need like-minded people to drag you along. I found my tribe at The Romantic Novelists’ Association. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire the… Hold on that’s the A-Team. The list of RNA members who have supported me could fill a book, but I appreciate every one of you. Special mention to Louise Allen (Melanie Hilton) for putting up with the last minute delivery of my NWS manuscripts every year with such good humour.
One extra special RNA person must be thanked, our glorious leader, Katie Fforde. Thank you. First for being so warm and friendly when I was first starting out and was star struck. Secondly, and most importantly, thank you for choosing me as the Katie Fforde Bursary winner in 2010. I don't know how you did it, it must be magic, but you chose me just when I was about to give it all up. Your bursary made me feel as if I really could do it. Even now when it all feels too much I remember you put your money where my words are. Oh and I apologise for calling the trophy, Le Dick Noir…
Thanks to Kimberly Young, the amazing HarperCollins publisher, who never minded me drunkenly chatting to her at RNA parties and never held it against me when it came to submitting. She took a chance on my short stories and led me to HarperImpulse. She also introduced me to Charlotte Ledger, my editor, my saviour, my tormentor and my friend. Charlotte bought this book when it was half the size and saw its potential. She also allows me to run riot on the HarperImpulse Twitter feed and happily takes photos of me as my alter ego in her office. Truly a woman with fantastic taste.
Thank you to those friends who don't look at me too funnily when I zone out and daydream. I'm looking at you, Matt Turner, for the coffee runs, white van man moments and DIY. And you, Caroline Turner, thanks for all the silly texts and our nights watching Harry Potter. And I will never tell you what I said to Sam West. And you, Molly Mikita, for the runs and letting me hang out at the store when I should've been writing this book. And Rachael Maryon for having my back for so many years, love you.
People say that social media distracts you from writing; all I know is that I've met the most amazing friends on there. They've kept me going through it all and made me laugh through the tears. Thank you Twitter buddies and Facebook friends. I salute you.
Chris McVeigh, the legend, thanks for all the support and Wham! Rap sing-alongs. Sam Missingham for being a superstar and Queen of Twitter. And Elizabeth Jenner for all round loveliness.
&nb
sp; And thank you to #flame. You gave me the gift of time, without it I would never have finished this book. I can never thank you enough. Whatever road we end up on, you helped grow the first shoots for ‘Brigid World’. I loved being your girl on fire.
Brigid Coady
I was born in the UK but raised round the world and spent most of my childhood with my nose in a book. When I was seven I wrote my first proper story about a magic puddle that flipped up to reveal a secret world underground.
I’m now a non-practicing engineer who works in project management. I write romance and young adult stories. I’ve been a voice-over and radio continuity artist. I love country music and used to have my own radio show. My boyfriend says I have an unhealthy obsession with Kenny Chesney. I live in London.
http://biddycoady.blogspot.co.uk/
@beecee
About HarperImpulse
HarperImpulse is an exciting new range of romance fiction brought to you from the women’s fiction team at HarperCollins. Our aim is to break new talent from debut authors and import the hottest trends from the US, bringing you the very best in romance. Whether that is through short reads for your mobile phone or epic sagas that span the generations we want to proudly publish romance fiction that gets everybody talking.
Romance readers, come and meet the team at our website www.harperimpulseromance.com, our Facebook page www.facebook.com/HarperImpulse or follow us @HarperImpulse!
Writers, we are simply looking for good stories! So, what are you waiting for? To submit, e-mail us at [email protected].
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