It Happened on a Lie

By Susanna Shore

“Are you always this offensive?”
“My apologies. I was merely surprised that a representative of such an esteemed society would stoop to trespassing.”

Zoe Lawrence believes that the end justifies the means when it comes to preserving historically valuable buildings, so a little trespassing doesn’t much weigh on her. Until she gets caught by the owner. If only he wasn’t such an attractive man, and if only she could make him to listen to her.

The lifelong dream of Aiden Rowe has been to build a luxury estate on a prime location. Now that he has found what he wants, he isn’t about to change his plans just because the historical preservation society says so. Not even if their representative happens to be a beautiful woman who captures his interest from the start.

But Aiden isn’t above asking Zoe for a favour: if she pretends to be his girlfriend for just one night, he will give her a fair chance to convince him to preserve the shipyard. One lie leads to another, and things soon get out of their hands. Soon they hardly know what’s real themselves.

But they know the truth in their hearts. If only they could make their heads listen.

Author’s note: I published this book previously in 2014 as Hannah Kane. It has been edited lightly for typos, but is essentially the same book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susanna Shore
• Release date: Feb 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9789527061282

Susanna Shore

Susanna Shore is a historian turned author. She writes Two-Natured London paranormal romance series, P.I. Tracy Hayes mysteries, The Reed Files crime capers, and House of Magic paranormal cozies, as well as stand-alone thrillers and contemporary romances.

Book preview

IT HAPPENED ON A LIE

Susanna Shore

It Happened on a Lie

Copyright © 2018 A. K. S. Keinänen

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

No part of this book may be reproduced, translated, or distributed without permission, except for brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogues and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organisations or persons, living or dead, except those in public domain, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design © 2024 A. K. S. Keinänen

Editing: Lee Burton, Ocean’s Edge Editing

www.susannashore.com

Subscribe to Susanna’s newsletter

Table of 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

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

About the Author

Excerpt from Hexing the Ex

Excerpt from At Her Boss’s Command

Also by Susanna Shore

Chapter One

Zoe Lawrence stared in dismay at the sturdy security gate that was blocking her way into an Edwardian shipyard she had meant to visit that afternoon. She had not expected it. The place had been out of use for almost fifty years and had been the playground for the local kids ever since. Who would have erected a new gate after all these years?

Puzzled, but determined to get in, she studied the old brown-brick wall that bordered the shipyard on three sides right up to the Thames. It was too tall for her to scale, which wasn’t much of a surprise. She was only 5 foot 3. Everything was too tall for her.

A veritable jungle grew by the wall, as no one had trimmed the growth after the place was abandoned. She eyed the trees with a speculative gleam, assessing them as potential aids for getting over the fence. It was imperative that she get in.

The right side of the gate didn’t have anything promising, on top of which the vegetation grew so thick there that she could barely fit between the trees when she tried to get through. When her backpack got stuck on a branch, she gave up and retreated to the drive.

To the left of the gate, hidden behind a shrub, she found a path that followed the wall. It was barely wide and tall enough for her, but she pushed through and ended up at a spot where the wall had broken at the top—by age or by design, she couldn’t tell—so it was lower. A sturdy willow grew by the wall there, providing a natural access over it. Judging by the broken branches and the scratches on its bark, she wouldn’t be the first trespasser to use it.

She lifted her chin in the manner her brother called her stubborn expression, took a good hold of the lowest branch and began to climb. The soles of her summer sandals didn’t offer much purchase on the slippery bark of the willow, but there were enough branches to hold on to, and little by little she managed to climb atop the wall. She lay on her stomach there for a few moments, the broken bricks scraping her skin, before carefully dropping down on the other side.

The vegetation wasn’t as dense inside the wall, but grass grew knee high. A path had been trampled through it, and she followed it to an erstwhile courtyard, a small clearing between the buildings. Its concrete surface was cracked in many places, and grass and tree sprouts grew through the crevices.

The shipyard had once been such a beautiful place, built at a time when even industrial buildings could have aesthetic value. The building with the offices and workers’ canteen, a typical turn of the twentieth century brown-brick, stood by the river, parallel to it. Creepers covered its walls, hiding the windows, but she estimated it had three stories.

Some fifty meters downriver from it was the huge dry dock. It was a tall yellow-brick building at least three times longer than it was wide, with rows and rows of windows and a tall roof that curved like a hull of a ship. It had once stood right at the river, but land elevation had moved the shoreline, and the bay doors towards the river were now well on dry land.

A low, rectangular building stood cornerwise to the dry dock, a workshop for wood and metalwork necessary for building ships. It was in worse repair than the other two buildings, its roof sagging in the middle.

The sight made her heart sink. She had hoped the buildings would be in adequate condition. It was essential to her plan.

The last owner of the shipyard had recently passed away and his heirs had quickly sold the lot to the highest bidder, much against the old man’s wishes and to the dismay of the historical preservation community. The place had been bought by a development company that had instantly declared they would raze the buildings and build a high-end estate on the lot.

As an architect, Zoe understood the appeal of a prime location in Greenwich by the Thames. In different circumstances, she would be competing for the chance to design the housing estate. But her first love was conservation. This was the last Edwardian shipyard left in London, and it had to be preserved.

She was a member—and secretary—of the Greenwich Conservation Society, which had for decades tried to get the shipyard listed. They had failed, and the new owners were free to do whatever they wished with it. But it wasn’t too late yet. She simply had to make the owners see the potential the place had just the way it was.

Well, obviously not in this condition, but after careful renovations that would at least preserve the exterior of the compound. She would ask the new owner to convert the old factory into apartments, a task she was well suited for, as her firm specialised in just those kinds of projects.

It was a small firm she had started five years ago after becoming fed up with the menial tasks she had been given in the architecture firm she had been working for. She might have held on a little longer had she been sure she would be given more challenging projects. But when men straight out of university were promoted before her, she’d stopped fooling herself and quit.

Good riddance to those sexist bastards of Anderson & Stone Architecture. She was her own boss now and doing well. Her firm wasn’t well-known yet, but if she could pull off this project, that would change.

It was a fine August Saturday to conduct a preliminary survey. Perfect for taking beautiful photos of the buildings that would show them in the best light. She dug out her camera and tripod from the backpack and started to work.

As always when she was photographing, the task immersed her completely. She spent ages finding perfect angles and waiting for the correct light to land on details she needed to capture. The workshop might be ramshackle, but it looked charming in photographs.

She tried to get inside the dry dock and the workshop, too, but like with the new gate, all the doors and windows had been recently covered with plywood. It had to be the work of the new owner, but she couldn’t fathom why they were so determined to keep people out. If they intended to demolish the place, what did it matter if local kids did some damage to the place.

Only because she relied on perfect light did she notice that the sky was