Wedding Bubbles: A romantic comedy (Wellywood Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

her head, smiling. “What are you going to do, babe?”
    “I don’t know,” I’d replied morosely. “I’ve got no money so I guess I’ll have to move back in with Mum and find a project manager job.”
    Her face had suddenly lit up. “How about you join me? We could be personal stylists together! Wellington’s answer to Trinny and Susannah.”
    “Yes!” Without a second though I’d literally leaped at the opportunity, right off my barstool and into the path of an unsuspecting waitress carrying a tray of drinks. Unfortunately I ended up wearing them, but I was too ecstatic to care.
    You see I’ve loved fashion since I was ten years old and had teamed my Mum’s glittery platforms from the Seventies with a Union Jack crop top and a pair of cargos in loving homage to the Spice Girls.
    A career change from IT project management - which isn’t exactly the height of glamour - into the world of fashion felt absolutely right.
    I’ve got a million style ideas from my time in London Wellington is just screaming out for, so I did an evening course in personal styling.
    Morgan came up with the name Estil , which she tells me is Catalan for style. Who knows why she chose Catalan, but as with all things Morgan does, it’s really chic and I love it.
    Mum ’s voice brings me back to the present. “Such a shame things didn’t work out with that lovely fellow you were seeing. What was his name? Luke?”
    Mum had met my ex-boyfriend, Luke just the once when she’d visited me in London last summer. We were an item for about a year, so I guess she was hoping marriage and grandchildren were imminent.
    “Yes... Luke,” I reply quietly, feeling the fury his name evokes building in me like the steam in a kettle about to boil over.
    “Luke, that’s right. Such a nice young man, and very successful too, wasn’t he? A banker, isn’t that right? Well, I suppose you had your reasons, dear.”
    “Mmmm,” I reply, forcing myself not to react. “Thanks for the flowers, Mum, they’re beautiful.”
    I’ve found the best approach with my mother is to ignore her comments, otherwise you can get yourself into conversations you just don’t want to have.
    And anyway, I doubt she wants to hear Luke traded me in for another model seven months ago. Oh and there was serious overlap between me and the next girl.
    One of my friends literally stumbled over the two of them in the stairwell of the Warrington pub in Maida Vale, snogging like their lives depended on it. When I confronted him about it he didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.
    He just put his hands up in surrender and said, “No contest. You got me.” It took all my strength not to slap the smarmy look off his face there and then.
    Needless to say we were history from that day on. I’m guessing the facts probably wouldn’t fit w ith Mum’s notion of Luke being, “such a nice young man”, however.
    “ Now, before I forget, your father asked me to get you to call him. He and his wife have just come back from some retreat or something. You know your father.” She rolls her eyes.
    “Will do, Mum.” I smile quietly to myself as I hang my winter coat in the closet. That certainly sounds like Dad. He's always off meditating or attempting some injury-provoking yoga pose on top of a mountain somewhere.
    She glances at her watch and jumps a clear five centimetres off the ground.
    “Heavens! I need to get back to the surgery. I’ve already taken nearly two hours for my lunch break today, thanks to the traffic to the airport and your late flight. What will Dr Whitelock say?”
    Mum works as a receptionist for a group of GPs about five minutes from home. She takes it very seriously and working for doctors makes her feel like she’s doing something important for humankind. It doesn’t pay much, but clearly enough to keep her in overdone décor.
    “Sure. Thanks for coming to get me. I’ll just have a shower and unpack.”
    “Nice to have you home, dear. See you