Awakening His Shy Cinderella

by Sophie Pembroke

  Cinderellas in the Spotlight

  Could their Prince Charmings be waiting under the mistletoe?

  It all started so innocently at a TV studio...but what happens next will become the start of a Christmas neither Celeste nor her best friend, Rachel, will ever forget!

  Because when Rachel is asked to make up the numbers for the filming of a New Year’s Eve party, a pretend midnight kiss with Celeste’s delectable brother, Damon, feels anything but fake!

  While next door, when Celeste clashes with TV quiz host Theo, she can’t help but wonder if the sparks flying between them could mean something more than television banter...

  What’s clear is now is the time for these two heroines to stand in the spotlight while they discover they are worthy of meeting their perfect princes!

  Awakening His Shy Cinderella available in December

  This Christmas, a shy, awkward Cinderella finally learns to ask for what she really wants: love...with her best friend’s younger brother!

  A Midnight Kiss to Seal the Deal available in January

  Can a pretend Christmas romance between two complete opposites lead to true love by the time Big Ben strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve?

  Dear Reader,

  I wrote and edited Awakening His Shy Cinderella in lockdown, during the 2020 global pandemic. I was writing about a city that no longer existed—not in that moment, and not even now. A bustling, busy city full of activity and people and hugs and crowds. I don’t know yet what the world will look like when you read this, but I hope we’re on our way back to something more familiar.

  Whatever the circumstances under which you’re reading Rachel and Damon’s story, I hope it gives you hope. Hope for our world, and hope for yourself. Because I think Christmas is a time for hope—and love, and joy, and kindness. So those are the feelings I poured into this book as I wrote, as my Christmas present to you.

  With love, and hope, this Christmastime,

  Sophie x

  Awakening His Shy Cinderella

  Sophie Pembroke

  Sophie Pembroke has been dreaming, reading and writing romance ever since she read her first Harlequin as part of her English literature degree at Lancaster University, so getting to write romance fiction for a living really is a dream come true! Born in Abu Dhabi, Sophie grew up in Wales and now lives in a little Hertfordshire market town with her scientist husband, her incredibly imaginative and creative daughter, and her adventurous, adorable little boy. In Sophie’s world, happy is forever after, everything stops for tea and there’s always time for one more page...

  Books by Sophie Pembroke

  Harlequin Romance

  A Fairytale Summer!

  Italian Escape with Her Fake Fiancé

  The Cattaneos’ Christmas Miracles

  CEO’s Marriage Miracle

  Wedding Island

  Island Fling to Forever

  Road Trip with the Best Man

  Carrying Her Millionaire’s Baby

  Pregnant on the Earl’s Doorstep

  Snowbound with the Heir

  Second Chance for the Single Mom

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  For London, my favourite city in the world—especially at Christmastime.

  Praise for

  Sophie Pembroke

  “Wow, what an amazing story! Sophie Pembroke made me fall in love with her characters in Pregnant on the Earl’s Doorstep from the get go.

  This book was such a fun, sweet, romantic rendezvous! I got lost in the sway of emotions, the tantalizing grip of romance and got swept away by the visual detailing that is so well written.”

  —Goodreads

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Excerpt from Mediterranean Fling to Wedding Ring by Jessica Gilmore

  CHAPTER ONE

  RACHEL CHARLES HELD the skimpy piece of sequinned fabric against her body, sighing at her reflection in the changing-room mirror. If it even stretched across her curves, she imagined she’d look alarmingly like a disco ball, in both shape and blinding capability. Not exactly the look she wanted to project at the Hartbury & Sons department store Christmas party—especially not as the stepdaughter of the last remaining Hartbury in the business.

  There were no ‘& Sons’ any more—just Rachel’s stepmother, Hannah, and her two stepsisters, Gretchen and Maisie. And Rachel’s father, of course, since he’d married Hannah and become an enthusiastic part of the Hartbury family.

  Unlike her.

  She tossed the disco-ball dress in the direction of the pile building up on the chair in the corner of the large changing area. The store was closing, so she didn’t need to worry about any customers coming in.

  That didn’t mean she was without an audience, though.

  ‘What was wrong with that one?’ Maisie asked, from her relaxed position draped across the chaise longue beside the full-length mirror. ‘I thought it was perfectly festive.’

  This was the problem with sisters—something Rachel hadn’t experienced until she was in her early teens and her father remarried. For some reason, they seemed invested in Rachel’s wardrobe—although in this case she suspected it was so Maisie could borrow the dress once Rachel inevitably chickened out of wearing it to the party after she’d bought it.

  ‘I think that one’s maybe more your style, Maisie,’ she said dryly, reaching for the next contender in the pile. ‘You’d look fantastic in it.’

  How had her stepsisters even got involved in this shopping expedition anyway? Rachel had casually mentioned, when asked by her stepmother if she’d decided what she was wearing to the party, that she’d probably just wear the same black dress as last year. And then, the minute she finished her shift on the till that evening, Gretchen and Maisie had been there waiting, their arms full of half the stock from the womenswear floor, their smiles beaming enthusiasm at her.

  She wanted to believe that it was a sweet, sisterly gesture. Maybe before last summer she’d have even been able to convince herself of that. But not now.

  Now, she knew as fact, rather than just suspicion, what her stepsisters really thought of her—thanks to Tobias. At least she had something to thank her sort-of ex for, she supposed.

  Just a few more weeks, Rachel reminded herself, as she drew the curtain on the changing room. As soon as her father’s next set of test results came in, and he had his meeting with the consultant, she’d be ready to act. To move on and move out, at last, from the Hartbury family home.

  It had made sense after university to move back home for a while. After all, Hartbury House was a four-storey town house in central London. It had plenty of room for the five of them and was far better positioned than anything she could have afforded on her own—even when she finally managed to get a job.

  That had been the next issue, of course—finding employment. Her Oxford degree went a long way on application forms, but her lack of confidence made interviews a nightmare. Many Oxford grads she knew had come out of university with a determination to embrace opportunity, believing they could do anything.

  Somehow, she’d emerged with the op
posite world view. And apparently it showed in job interviews.

  So when Hannah had suggested she work at the family business for a while, just until she found her feet, it had seemed like a logical next step. She’d found her own niche there, beyond just working on the shop floor, and had started to feel as if she might even be making a difference. Seven years later, it was hard to imagine working anywhere else.

  She shook her head to stop her wool-gathering, and wriggled into the next dress on the pile. One thing at a time, that was how she had to do this.

  First, she needed to know that her father was really okay after that terrifying rush into hospital earlier in the year, him clutching at his chest, and her trying to remember all the details of his blood-pressure medication to tell the doctors. She wouldn’t get that assurance until nearer Christmas, maybe even the new year. That was the time to think about using her hoarded savings to find her own place to live. Then, once she was settled, she could think about maybe changing jobs.

  One step at a time. Starting with finding a dress for the Christmas party.

  The next dress was plain, a green velvet thing that stretched from her chin to her ankles, stopping at her wrists on the way. She supposed it was a little bit better than the disco ball—until Gretchen handed her a pom-pom-laden wrap to wear over it. ‘To, you know, hide your lumpy bits.’

  Rachel winced at her reflection. I look like a Christmas tree. But she’d promised to try to keep the peace with her stepsisters, for her father’s sake. He’d been so upset by their row last summer, after everything went down with Tobias, and Hannah believed that stress must have added to his heart problems. Maybe even caused the heart attack that followed not so long after.

  Rachel was less convinced, but she wasn’t going to risk it. However much Gretchen and Maisie provoked her.

  Two months at the most, and I’ll be out of here. I hope.

  ‘It’s very...festive,’ she said.

  Gretchen beamed. ‘Exactly! And I knew you wouldn’t want to feel uncomfortable and on display,’ she added, shooting a look at the disco-ball dress, which had somehow made its way into Maisie’s grasp.

  She’s trying to be kind. She knows I’m self-conscious about my curves. Maybe if she repeated the words enough inside her head it would be easier to believe them.

  This was the other problem with sisters—well, with having two gorgeous, willowy stepsisters with legs that went on for ever and which often featured in the celebrity gossip pages, demurely climbing out of cars arriving at the latest hot spot or party. Gretchen and Maisie were heiresses in their own right, courtesy of their late, great father, the famed tycoon Howard Jacobs. Their money, combined with their looks, made them It Girls, the ones to be seen with around London.

  Rachel was none of those things. Not tall or willowy, not rich or beautiful. She was short, curvy, and while she liked to think her face wasn’t actively offensive, it was really quite normal, under her cloud of curly brown hair.

  Gretchen and Maisie obviously found her a sartorial puzzle to solve. Maisie tried to put her in the sort of things she would wear, and Gretchen tried to disguise all her disagreeable parts.

  Rachel sighed and thought wistfully of her old black dress at home.

  Out of the entire pile of dresses her stepsisters had shown up with, there had only been one she’d liked—and that, Gretchen admitted, she’d only picked up by mistake. It was cranberry red with navy stags, owls and a woodland print across it, knee length, with a wrap front top and, best of all, pockets. Gretchen had whipped it away as soon as she’d selected it, though, declaring that it would draw far too much attention to her curves. Even Maisie had nodded, adding that it didn’t even have any sparkle to distract the eye.

  Because apparently she was so disgusting to look at that people’s eyes needed to be distracted.

  She studied the Christmas tree outfit again. Maybe if she took off the pom-pom wrap...

  ‘Well, that’s a look.’

  Rachel froze. She knew that voice. That low, warm voice with humour lurking behind it. There was no cruelty in it, but that didn’t stop her insides curling up and dying from embarrassment.

  Damon Hunter. Her best friend’s younger brother, the most attractive man she’d ever met in real life and, incidentally, the last person on the planet she wanted to see her dressed up like a Christmas tree.

  Well, this was just ideal.

  Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she looked up from studying the pom-poms on the wrap, and met his gaze in the mirror. ‘Hello, Damon. What are you doing here?’

  Her voice was even, friendly, and she was proud of herself for managing that much. She might look like a Christmas tree, but that didn’t mean she had to throw all dignity to the winds.

  She’d been hiding her crush on Celeste’s little brother for the best part of a decade. It was second nature at this point.

  ‘Celeste sent me to pick you up. For some reason she seemed to think you’d try and wriggle out of attending this thing tonight.’

  That was because Celeste knew her too well. From the moment they’d been put together in the halls of residence at university, along with three boys whose only interests were rugby, beer and pulling unsuspecting girls in freshers’ week, Rachel and Celeste had been best mates. Rachel had always suspected that, if it hadn’t been for those circumstances, the two of them would probably never even have met, let alone become friends. Neither of them was exactly the outgoing, friend-making type. In fact, she suspected she might be Celeste’s only friend, the only person she’d ever looked up from her studies long enough to get to know.

  It might have been sheer convenience, but Rachel still felt a little special, knowing that.

  ‘You’re going out tonight?’ Gretchen asked, sounding faintly astonished. Rachel didn’t take it personally; she was pretty surprised too.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Maisie had straightened a little on the chaise longue, her endless legs folded in the way that showed them off best, angled towards Damon, of course. ‘Can we come? Unless it’s a hot date, of course...’ She and Gretchen couldn’t help but giggle at that idea, apparently. Again, Rachel couldn’t bring herself to blame them for it. The idea of gorgeous, outgoing, charming and successful Damon Hunter going on a date with a shy and dumpy shop girl was pretty hilarious.

  Sighing, Rachel turned at last and faced Damon’s amused gaze in reality, rather than just reflection. ‘Damon, these are my stepsisters, Gretchen and Maisie. And this is Damon, Celeste’s brother.’ The girls looked blank at the mention of Celeste. ‘My best friend, Celeste,’ Rachel clarified.

  ‘Oh, right!’ Gretchen clapped her hands together as she placed the name, then turned to Damon with a conspiratorial smile. ‘To be honest, we kind of thought Rachel had invented Celeste for the longest time. It’s not like we ever see her.’

  ‘Although if we’d known she had a brother that looked like you—’ Maisie muttered, until Gretchen shot her a warning look.

  ‘My sister isn’t the most sociable of people,’ Damon said, with an easy smile.

  ‘Understatement,’ Rachel mumbled. Damon obviously heard it though, as he shot her an amused look. Turning her head to hide her blush, she ducked into the changing cubicle again, drawing the curtain tight closed as she changed back into normal, non-Christmas-tree clothes. The curtain, and the rustle of velvet, did nothing to cover the sound of her stepsisters flirting with Damon, though.

  She forced herself to think positively about it. Gretchen and Maisie were exactly the sort of women Damon dated—usually for about a fortnight, before moving on. Maybe if one or both of them were distracted by Damon for a while, they’d stop their latest humiliation tactic of dressing her up in Christmas ornaments. That was a bonus, right?

  And really, she’d spent nearly ten years watching Damon date other women—starting with the fresher girl he pulled in that nightclub when he cam
e to stay with her and Celeste in their second year of university. It wasn’t as if he was ever going to date her, so what difference did it make who he dated?

  It did, of course. But she swallowed the thought and pulled her black and grey jumper dress over her head instead.

  ‘My sister is taking part in some weirdly academic quiz show about Christmas tonight,’ Damon was saying when she emerged from the thick woollen cocoon. ‘She wants Rachel and me in the audience to cheer her on.’

  Gretchen and Maisie’s enthusiasm about joining them for the evening obviously waned when they heard their plans. But as Rachel emerged from the changing room, Maisie was listing places in London Damon should try for the nightlife—and maybe he would see her there.

  ‘Ready?’ Damon asked, the minute Rachel emerged.

  Rachel nodded, but before she could grab her bag her stepmother, Hannah, appeared looking flustered.

  ‘There you are!’ She reached out to grab Rachel’s arm. ‘There’s been an absolute disaster with one of the window displays. Some brat climbed in to try and get one of those silly mice you’ve put in every one of them and knocked half of it over. I need it fixed before you go home.’

  Rachel nodded along as her stepmother dragged her towards the stairs. ‘Of course. Five minutes?’ she said, twisting her neck to look over her shoulder at Damon.

  ‘Take your time.’ That easy smile was back. Of course he didn’t mind, Rachel realised, as she made her way down the stairs to the ground floor. He got more flirting time with Gretchen and Maisie.

  She wondered which one of them would win him over by the time she’d fixed the display.

  * * *

  Damon watched Rachel go, her knitted dress pulled tight across the curve of her backside, and wondered what on earth had possessed her to swap it for the hideous green velvet thing she’d been wearing when he arrived. Then he looked back at the predatory smiles on her stepsisters’ faces and twigged.