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By Jacqueline Pouliot

A lesbian romance by Jacqueline Pouliot, author of The Wedding, Dancing Barefoot and Dominque.
Frankie is a rising fashion photographer who has fled home to London after an unhappy and very public lesbian love affair with a well-known model.
Forced to attend an early Christmas party, she meets Christy. They click but Frankie discovers Christy is not gay.
Resigned to friendship only, Frankie finds she just can’t get Christy out of her mind!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781291793130

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Jacqueline Pouliot

Copyright © 2012 Lulu Press

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-291-77771-0

Synopsis

A lesbian romance by Jacqueline Pouliot, author of The Wedding, Dancing Barefoot and Dominque.

Frankie is a rising fashion photographer who has fled home to London after an unhappy and very public lesbian love affair with a well-known model.

Forced to attend an early Christmas party, she meets Christy. They click but Frankie discovers Christy is not gay.

Resigned to friendship only, Frankie finds she just can’t get Christy out of her mind!

1.

I could hear the sounds of laughter, conversation and music as I walked up the steps. It was cold, very cold and, in a common moment of simpatico with the bleak weather, I also had cold feet.

London can do that to you.

A vivid searing question blazed through me!

What the hell am I doing here?

As I turned to flee back down the steps, the front door opened, a shaft of golden light falling on the steps.

‘Francesca!’

Sighing, I turned to find Naomi silhouetted in the door, waggling a finger at me.

‘I just knew you would chicken out!

‘I was just scraping the muck off my boots...’

‘Crap!’ Naomi said succinctly in her New York twang. ‘You were going to run away! Jesus, Francesca, it’s just a Christmas Party!’

‘You do know Christmas is weeks away?'

'Don't be bitchy! You know I like to be first. '

'I know.  Here, I brought you some flowers.’

‘Flowers? God, don’t tell me you’ve gone all sugar and spice?’

‘Harry suggested it.’

‘She is a doll! I like her. She keeps you in line. Thank you for the flowers. Now, come in. I’m freezing my ass off!’

As Naomi closed the door behind me she said, ‘And you can stop the dramatic sighs, Francesca. You can be social, can’t you?’

‘I know, Naomi. Thanks awfully for inviting me.’

‘I can recognise sarcasm you Brits do so well, Francesca,’ she said with a grin.

Suddenly, Naomi hugged me and murmured into my hair, ‘Thanks for coming. It’s been ages since we’ve seen each other.’

‘I know.’

‘Hang your coat and come in. I’ll introduce you.’

I slipped my overcoat off, hung it in the hall and followed Naomi into the living room.

The house was a renovated Georgian mansion and the living room was quite large. I could see Naomi’s touches everywhere and the room was elegantly warm. For one brief moment, I had a pang for loss of happier times.

Of course, the cheerful fire in the grate helped make the room look welcoming and a group of about nine or ten people looked at us expectantly as we entered.

‘Everyone,’ Naomi called regally and the conversation immediately died. ‘This is my step-daughter, Francesca.’

‘Step-daughter?’

The question was asked incredulously by an overweight woman, who was also American.

‘You have children?’

She looked expectantly at Clive who was leaning against the fireplace.

‘Not mine, I’m afraid,’ Clive said calmly, packing his pipe.

‘Jesus, of course not!’ Naomi said crossly. ‘Francesca is the daughter of my second husband.’

Everyone looked at Clive who was, by all accounts, husband number five, and, knowing what everyone was thinking, he smiled cheerfully.

I knew it looked strange as Naomi was only ten years older than I was and, unfortunately she managed to look much younger than her years.

It had been a curse when my father had first married her. What young woman wants to be cursed with a stepmother that looked like my slightly older sister?

‘Hello everyone,’ I forced myself to say and even added a limp wave.

‘Let’s get you a drink, Francesca. Are you still drinking beer?’

I could see a few eyebrows were raised by that but I saw a young woman in the corner stifle a smile.

She was about my height,