Accidentally in Love: A hilarious, heart-warming Rom-Com

By Anna Premoli

A funny romantic comedy about how opposites definitely do attract... Perfect for fans of Sophie Kinsella and Meg Cabot.

Sara Di Giovanni is a successful lawyer in New York City: she is the star of her profession, an excellent role model to her very vivacious little sister, but has so far been unlucky in love...

Ethan Phelps is the rich playboy trouble-maker whose only talent in life is spending money and dating women...

That is until Ethan's father dies with no will to his name, leaving his two sons the legal heirs to his billion-dollar company.

Sara is forced to become the court-appointed guardian to handle Ethan's share of the fortune, as his family do not trust him to manage it himself. Sara thinks it should be easy, but it's not so simple when Ethan is determined to get rid of her by whatever means necessary...

What ensues is a dramatic and hilarious power-play between Sara and Ethan... but what will happen when feelings start to get in the way?

From the author of LOVE TO HATE YOU, YOU DRIVE ME CRAZY, UNTIL LOVE DO US PART and STUCK WITH YOU.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: Feb 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781788543903

Anna Premoli

Anna Premoli is a bestselling author in Italy. She began writing to relieve stress while working as a financial consultant for a private bank. Her novel, Love to Hate You won the Bancarella prize in 2013.

Book preview

Prologue

The room was as crowded as ever, and perhaps even more than usual.

It was, in fact, the first meeting to be held since the death of one of the company’s founding members and, needless to say, no one wanted to miss the show. Because if there was one thing they were all sure of, it was that the show was going to be a particularly entertaining one.

All the financial papers had listed it among their not-to-be-missed appointments of the financial week. One well-known analyst with a reputation for being cynical but realistic had even said in his blog that it was potentially going to be more fun than an action movie.

If nothing else, if you had even a single share to your name – or in your virtual wallet – the admittance was free, the water was too, and once the administrative business of the day was over and done with, you got to take home with you an elegant file-shaped freebie with a built in pen and notepad. At this type of meeting everyone always took copious notes, though nobody was actually writing anything down.

And that day, more than all the others, the crowd that packed out the large conference room was there to find out information that went far beyond the estimated EBITDA for the current year. There were much more important things afoot and so, for once, it could be asserted with some certainty that no one cared that much about the bottom line.

Well, almost no one.

The noise showed no sign of abating, partly because several of the less easy going shareholders were delighted to have the opportunity to complain about how far behind schedule everything was.

They might have had to wait years, but that day they would have their revenge.

In the past, the Phelps & Phelps meetings had been famous for one thing: their perfect, obsessive organization of the details. Punctuality had always been a priority in the company, and Markus Phelps had put a lot of faith in it, though always being careful not to let show how seriously he took it. He had learned quickly that a listed company had to maintain a certain ‘image’. The quarterly figures counted, of course, but his reputation for being a bit of a bruiser had also helped the company’s success over the years. It was no coincidence that he was continually repeating to his colleagues that in business, marketing was everything. Absolutely everything. For him it was a rule that held true in both life and in business.

Unfortunately, though, the man who had always been the public face of Phelps & Phelps had departed this mortal coil a few months earlier and at that moment in time, sitting in the front row, was his younger brother, Kirk, who held a thirty per cent share in the company, as had the deceased, and Markus’s first-born son, James, who had inherited half of Markus’s share.

Kirk had never been much of a public relations man – that side of the business was something his brother had always handled. He preferred to stay in his office going over the accounts. That was all he did, each and every day: a multinational company won’t survive for long unless it pays close attention to economies of scale and sales data. For him, the numbers had always been a consolation, a secret passion, almost like a lover. Or an obsession, since he had never married. The company would have been his one true masterpiece, his great life project if it hadn’t been for his brother, who had decided, at the age of almost seventy, to have a heart attack while he was off having fun with his latest conquest.

Markus had been widowed at a relatively young age, and afterwards had never shown any serious intention of getting married again. In fact, he’d begun to spend his time with women whose ages seemed to get lower in direct correlation with his own getting higher. There seemed to be a dangerous correspondence between his getting older and his need to surround himself with youth, which was why Kirk was almost mathematically certain that his brother’s final lover must have been between twenty and thirty years old. If he had lived for another five years, he might have broken the sound barrier as well.

Though he had been approaching his seventies, Markus had always seemed to be the living picture of health – one of those people who never felt ill, never felt tired. There had been no sign of the impending tragedy. Nobody had expected it, not even Kirk, who was an expert at anticipating problems. This one, unfortunately, had escaped him, and he couldn’t put his heart at peace. He was devastated to have lost his brother, of course, but even more he regretted the fact that he hadn’t acted in good time to avoid the epochal disaster he was now preparing to face. He should have thought about it while he could still have controlled the course of events – he should have been able to foresee the problem and face it full on, even at the cost of a fierce battle with his brother.

Kirk considered himself a calm man. He hated heated confrontations, especially family ones, but the question of who was going to take up the reins was something that he really shouldn’t have ignored in such an irresponsible way.

He still couldn’t believe that Markus had not left a will. Nothing, not even a couple of lines written on a sheet of toilet paper or on the back of a receipt from some bar. He had searched every single corner of the house and the office and contacted all the notaries and lawyers in the country and beyond before resigning himself to the truth. It was obvious that his brother had not expected to die so suddenly and that he must have thought he had all the time in the world to deal with the delicate question of his succession.

He should have known, though, that life is always full of unexpected surprises – rarely pleasant.

An intelligent man like Markus should have got his affairs in order and made some decisions. And instead he had done nothing. It was unbelievable.

And now it would be all of them who would pay for this lack of foresight.

Kirk wiped his forehead nervously with his hand as he watched the crowd in front of him getting noisier and noisier by the minute. Even James, sitting serious and composed on his right, did not seem to be handling it much better than he was. He was wearing, as always, his work uniform – a grey suit and a dark tie – but his expression was much more agitated than usual.

He can’t not come, he whispered tensely. His uncle gave a nervous laugh, playing for time before answering.

Of course he can, he replied, pretending to be calm. It’s his right to ignore us, guaranteed by nothing less than our most beloved constitution. Even though, to be perfectly frank, his not turning up would be the best thing that could happen… A part of him actually hoped that the damn lunatic would decide to stay away from the meeting. His absence might cause some small problems when it came to the moment of voting, given the share of the company he possessed, but at least that way they wouldn’t be exposed to public humiliation.

And leave us like this, without a majority? hissed James, gripping the pen he held in his hand so tightly that he almost snapped it in two.

Kirk turned to look into his eyes, where all of his agitation was clearly visible. James, who had been a rock in recent years, was still not used to hiding his feelings when it came to family matters – but he would be forced to learn how to, just as many others had done before him. There is every probability. But we must not show concern. Smile – at the end of the day, that’s what they’re all here for.

What do you mean, to see us suffer? his nephew asked resentfully.

Exactly, and we must not let that happen. And so, Kirk smiled as if he had only one problem in the world – that of trying to set a good example.

In the meantime, a man who all present knew very well stood up. Ed Turner, who immediately silenced the audience with his menacing presence.

Kirk, what the hell are we waiting for? he asked as if all present weren’t perfectly well aware. "I mean, this meeting was due to start at half past ten and it’s nearly eleven – we’ve been patient for long enough, don’t you think? Everybody who wants to participate in our humble little meeting is here. And they’ve been waiting for quite some time, if I may say so…" He finished his sentence with a theatrically sarcastic laugh.

Turner was a billionaire who had never hidden his desire to sooner or later gain a controlling interest in Phelps & Phelps. He collected shares the way other people collected snow globes and didn’t like being told ‘no’ – and that was a word that Markus and Kirk had said to him repeatedly over the last decade.

As we all know, though, the wheel of fortune never stops turning, and this time it seemed that it had suddenly turned for Turner. Old Markus had been a pleasant enough fellow – perhaps not particularly profound, he thought, and perhaps with a slightly excessive taste for young beauties, but he had always been cheerful and happy to be the centre of attention. He’d claimed that he only did it for the sake of the company, but in Ed Turner’s modest opinion, narcissists always managed to find some excuse that calmed their very slight sense of guilt. Kirk sat up straight in his chair. We will be commencing very shortly. What’s all the hurry? he asked, feigning indifference.

Turner turned to him. Everyone knows that Ethan will never come, he said glacially, with just a touch of satisfaction. The fact that he had dared to pronounce that name did not escape the attention of the crowd, which immediately resumed its murmuring.

As soon as he heard his brother’s name, James’s face grew dark and he began to squeeze his pen again, probably imagining that it was his brother’s neck.

Kirk laughed nervously. "Well, it is not as though we need his presence to approve the quarterly budget…" he reminded everyone, trying to look almost bored at the idea.

Of course not, Turner agreed. As long as the stake is in Ethan’s possession. But who knows how much longer that will be the case… he speculated, the malicious glint in his eyes a slap in the face to all those who think that the threat is an outdated art form.

At that point James could no longer hold himself back. What exactly do you mean, Mr Turner?

As a response, the other man gave him his most convincing smile, looking about as harmless as a vampire.

Let’s all try to calm down a moment, Kirk suggested, realizing James was about to lose his head. Turner is right, we can start the session. James, would you be so good as to read out the first point on the agenda?

His nephew stood up with the tablet in his hand, but before he’d had the chance to say a word, the noise level at the back of the room went up a notch. The chattering got so loud that all present turned around to try and see what the problem was. Or rather, who the problem was.

Hundreds of eyes swivelled simultaneously to look at the man who had just entered the room, slamming the door rather inelegantly behind him. The soft lights of the room did nothing to soften the effect of Ethan Phelps’s dramatic entrance as he marched forward in the direction of his family, grabbing onto the backs of the chairs he encountered along the way for support. His blonde hair was, as always, long and untidy, and his eyes, which were naturally an extraordinary and very rare turquoise color, were bloodshot and puffy.

James turned white at the sight of his brother. Less because he was so obviously falling down drunk – that was nothing new, he practically always was – and more because he would never have imagined that the bloody fool, who usually wore black as if he were the reincarnation of Batman, would have shown up dressed as if he’d just been on holiday in Hawaii. He was wearing a pair of shorts decorated with a floral print so hideous it could have blinded all present and a shirt also decorated with flowers that, however, clashed terribly with the ones on his shorts. Not even the most flamboyant would have dared call it ‘matching’.

Not satisfied, James decided to lean forward to see the footwear his brother had decided to slip on for the occasion. Obviously, he was wearing a pair of flip flops, just as James would, at that point, have bet he would.

Ethan concluded his unsteady journey and stopped in the proximity of the table occupied by the major shareholders, continuing to sway from side to side before everyone’s eyes as though he had just disembarked from some oceangoing vessel and was still feeling the rolling of the deck.

Aloha! he exclaimed in a voice that managed to be both loud and pained, accompanying the greeting with the Shaka sign, stretching out his thumb and little finger and holding his hand over his head.

Some voices from the back of the room actually had the nerve to answer him, but James was not one of them. Having to worry about his brother over the years had made him lose his sense of humour completely. For God’s sake… he muttered in a low voice as he watched Ethan try to remain standing upright –– an operation that cost him plenty of effort, judging by the expression on his face.

Turner wasted no time. He stood up and stalked over like a predator, before giving him a loud smack on the back. The gesture almost made the younger Phelps brother fall to the floor. You’re looking well, Ethan, Turner told him, scrutinizing him as a hawk might its prey.

Ethan tried to focus on the man standing in front of him but clearly wasn’t able to identify him, so he gave him one of those empty smiles he had learned to do as a child. The amount of alcohol in his bloodstream actually seemed to be helping him cope with the situation.

Did I miss something? asked Ethan.

Kirk sighed before answering. No, nothing at all. We were just about to begin.

Great! Then let’s get this party officially started! yelled Ethan, raising his voice to make himself heard even at the back of the room. But the effort of shouting was too much, and he lost control of the nausea he’d been struggling to hold down since getting off his private plane an hour earlier. It suddenly surged up inside him, making his head spin faster and faster until all he could do was to give in to it.

He was sorry – of course he was –– but it was hardly the first time in his life that he’d given up. Ethan considered himself a realist and was well aware that his nature wasn’t that of a fighter. It wasn’t just some pathetic excuse, it was about accepting his natural proclivities.

And so it was that he vomited all over the man standing next to him and immediately afterwards slumped to the floor. Or, to be more precise, immediately afterwards collapsed on the floor. As a crowd of solicitous people formed around him, he was only grateful for not having identified the man he had covered with vomit.

In some cases, it is best to remain in ignorance.

Chapter 1

The atmosphere in the room was getting pretty uncomfortable, or at least Judge Richter thought so as she observed the debate taking place in front of her.

Patent violations were rarely fun, and this one was no exception. In addition, the courtroom’s heating must have got stuck at the maximum temperature, because the air had been unbreathable for over an hour. And it was April, she thought – shouldn’t they have turned the damn thing off by now? With all the circulars going around about the federal budget cuts, she would have expected to spend the winter freezing to death, but not that they would turn the courtrooms into ovens. Well, it was one solution, she had to admit.

Jane Richter kept hoping the two attorneys in front of her would be suffering so much from the heat that they could reschedule the boring hearing, but while the defense attorney’s round, sweaty face showed all his profound discomfort, the prosecution attorney still looked to be as fresh as a daisy.

Damn it to hell.

At this rate, the hearing would go on for ever. Whoever had said that Sara Di Giovanni would do whatever it took to win a case had not been far wrong. The young woman continued to jump up out of her chair every other minute, calling objection after objection. She was a tough cookie, no doubt about it. Couldn’t she have asked for the case to be adjourned, given the tropical microclimate in the courtroom? The judge would have had no problem accepting that request.

The other attorney was making her job easy by coming out with a lot of meaningless garbage, and District Attorney Di Giovanni didn’t pull her punches with him. In a way, the judge almost felt sorry for the defense. Di Giovanni was trampling him into the dirt…

Sara didn’t even let District Attorney McKenzie finish his sentence before she started attacking him. "Your Honor, objection! she cried. Defense is making swingeing and ridiculous generalizations!" she exclaimed, sounding exasperated after raising her hand for the thousandth time. She’d be able to skip her evening gym class what with the number of times she had got up from her chair.

Sustained, said the judge. District Attorney McKenzie, I’m going to ask you to be more specific in your questioning. I would remind you that patent law requires explicit details. Please, let’s try and see if we can finish off as soon as possible… she begged him, her eyes drooping with exhaustion.

Very well, your Honor. As I was saying… McKenzie turned to the expert witness he was questioning, in your view, is it possible in this case, to apply American rules to Chinese patents?

Sara rocketed up from her chair so quickly that more than one of the people present jumped in fright. "But your Honor, this is an absurd question! First of all, as far as I remember, the witness’s field of expertise is design and not international patent law, and secondly, it is obvious that a company with an American branch has to comply with the law of the country in which it is situated. Chinese law has absolutely nothing to do with us! It’s not like the company was ordered by a doctor to make its devices in China or something! As long as what our government is concerned with is the company’s headquarters, I’m afraid that my colleague’s questions will be completely meaningless," she said, expressing her point of view with memorable forcefulness and conviction.

Richter rolled her eyes. Sustained, she said. "But there is no need to raise your voice, Ms Di Giovanni. We can hear you perfectly well, believe me. Perfectly well. Mr McKenzie, please, can we conclude the questioning?"

Exactly four questions and eighteen objections later, the witness was able to leave the stand. Jane Richter already felt one of those headaches coming on – the ones that not even the strongest pain killers could put a dent in. She adjourned the hearing until the following Monday and began to collect her notes, going back to her office. Her assistant, Connor, saw her coming with an exhausted look on her face and for a moment almost thought about postponing the bad news until the next week. He was afraid of ruining her weekend but after so many years of working together, the judge was able to sense his worries even without him needing to express them.

What’s the matter? she asked as she took off her robes. I mean, apart from patent law.

Connor sighed loudly. I have some bad news, unfortunately. It’s the Phelps family again…

Jane held up her hand to cut him off. Hold up – let me sit down before you tell me. And she proceeded to do so, making herself comfortable in a large brown leather armchair. Okay, I’m ready. Right, let me take a guess: District Attorney Carlton has given up and handed in his resignation from the post of court appointed guardian, am I right?

Her assistant breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that he didn’t have to actually say the words himself. Yes, you are… But how did you guess?

I suspected right from the very beginning that the family had made another bad choice. Ethan Phelps has managed to scare off three court appointed guardians in five months, she said bitterly. I dare say that’s a record.

Obviously they’ve got no idea how to choose one, said Connor.

"Without a doubt. Though in all sincerity, I think even we’d struggle to find someone capable of handling an undertaking like that, continued the judge, I mean, who’d be able to stand more than three months working with a fruitcake like Phelps? Not even the thought of giving up that salary has stopped any of them from jumping ship. They just keep going, one by one, with worrying consistency."

"The problem is that Ethan Phelps might look crazy but he can’t actually be crazy if he’s managed to find the weaknesses of three of the best attorneys in the city," commented Connor, putting into words the conclusion that she had already reached herself. Why did all the complicated cases end up on her damn desk? Karma just seemed to have it in for her.

As far as I’m concerned, intelligence is a something that gets passed down through families exactly like the color of your hair or the shape of your eyes – and you can accuse the Phelpses of whatever you like except for being stupid. They’ve got brains. If only Ethan would stop trying to throw his away so blatantly… sighed Richter angrily.

It would take a person with a really strong character, someone who isn’t going to let themselves be intimidated by the Phelpses and the world they live in. Someone capable of standing up to all his demands… Connor was saying when the judge instantly sat up straight in her chair.

What did you just say? she asked with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

I just said that we need somebody capable of standing up to… he repeated without understanding where the judge was going with it.

But he didn’t have time to finish his sentence, for the judge immediately started rifling manically through her papers. After rummaging through them for a long time, she eventually found what she was looking for and looked at him with a satisfied smile on her face.

"Here we go! Have a look at this: it’s from the pain in the ass patent trial – just how many times has District Attorney Di Giovanni objected so far?"

He took the document from her and almost turned white. "One hundred and seventy-two objections?! And you’re only halfway through!"

Richter threw up her hands in resignation. "Now do you understand why I’m so exhausted?"

And are they all valid objections? asked Connor.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, they actually are all valid, yes. Incredible, don’t you think?"

Hmm, yes, no doubt. But it seems to me that the lady in question is an expert on patents rather than on guardianship… he pointed out tactfully.

Richter raised her hand to cut him off again. Listen, as far as I’m concerned she can be an expert in cold cuts or ice-cream – desperate people cannot afford to be picky, and we are desperate, let’s just admit it. We need something that no one expects! So the experts have failed? Okay, let’s blindside them with our joker!

Well, you’re about to throw the joker right in the middle of a game of battleships… Let’s just hope it doesn’t sink, said Connor, trying to make a joke of it. But the judge was in no mood to put up with anything humorous.

"Let’s just hope that she doesn’t sink," she said very seriously.

Not wanting to continue with that metaphor, Connor nodded. But are you sure she’ll accept a job like that? he asked, after reflecting for a moment.

Jane Richter had to admit that the question was a fair one. She knew full well that anyone with half an ounce of sense took one look at Ethan and was out the door running before they’d got to ‘hello’. It was a risk, she couldn’t deny it. Let’s see if we can find her weak point. They all have one. And we will play our cards close to our chest.

Judge Richter’s assistant looked at her admiringly. Never mind the joker, Judge, he said with conviction. "When it comes to being devious, you’ve always got a royal flush!"

My two former husbands would agree with you on that. Right, come on then: knock me up a dossier on this woman. I have the impression that this time we might have hit the bulls-eye.

*

Sara hated the weekend. It was a secret that she kept hidden from everyone, especially her family, because she was certain that no

Reviews for Accidentally in Love

[kristymk18-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This one actually took me a little to get into, but once I did I found it to be a cute rom-com with the enemies-to-lovers and opposites attract tropes we all love.

[nelispelusa · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Received an ARC at no cost to author (netgalley). Opposites attract that is the premise of this book. We have Sara a go getter and a lawyer, and while she is successful with her professional life she has no social life and is pining for a chef who doesn't even realize she is there. And then we have Ethan a spoiled playboy, who needs guardians which is a nicer word that baby sitter. Sara ends up being the newest guardian, and a challenge to Ethan and they are off..It was a slow for me I personally like it a little faster but it is not bad.