Laura Lake and the Luxury Press Trip: romantic comedy from the author of The Governess

By Wendy Holden

Laura Lake is the deputy editor of glossy mag Society. She's been asked to write an exclusive on celebrity getaway Coconut Cay, a private paradise belonging to billionaire businessman James Redmond.

When a couple of pompous journalists turn up unexpectedly, scuppering Laura's chances of an exclusive, she decides to enjoy the glittering sea and golden Caribbean sands instead.

But Laura soon discovers that the hi-tech, haute luxe, seven-star comfort of Coconut Cay hides some dark secrets. And she's determined to get the scoop before her rivals...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: Jul 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781784977658

Wendy Holden

Wendy Holden is an author and journalist.

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LAURA LAKE AND THE LUXURY PRESS TRIP

Wendy Holden

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About this Book

About the Author

Table of Contents

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About Laura Lake and the Luxury Press Trip

img1.jpg

Laura Lake is the deputy editor of glossy mag Society. She’s been asked to write an exclusive on celebrity getaway Coconut Cay, a private paradise belonging to billionaire businessman James Redmond.

When a couple of pompous journalists turn up unexpectedly, scuppering Laura’s chances of an exclusive, she decides to enjoy the glittering sea and golden Caribbean sands instead.

But Laura soon discovers that the hi-tech, haute luxe, seven-star comfort of Coconut Cay hides some dark secrets. And she’s determined to get the scoop before her rivals...

Contents

Welcome Page

About Laura Lake and the Luxury Press Trip

Laura Lake and the Luxury Press Trip

London, a month later

About Wendy Holden

About Laura Lake Series

An Invitation from the Publisher

Copyright

‘The layered shag is making a comeback...’

Laura Lake, deputy editor of Society magazine, was frowning at her computer screen. She was trying to salvage an interview with a big celebrity. An inexperienced writer had made an absolute hash of it and Laura’s ‘recast’ of the piece was not made easier with the noise from the nearby beauty desk.

‘...and right now it’s all about faux sun-scorched cheeks.’

Serafina, the beauty editor, was briefing the fashion team, interchangeable blonde sisters Raisy and Daisy, for a shoot taking place that afternoon.

Raisy pushed a green-neon fingernail thoughtfully into her pointed chin. ‘But is that going to work with sideless knickers?’

Serafina’s eyes widened within twin rings of gold mascara. ‘Sideless...?’

Suppressing a snort, Laura stopped eavesdropping and returned to the job in hand. The heat was on; the deadline had been two days ago and the piece was just in. Tracking it down had involved Laura ringing the writer’s mother, sister and boyfriend before the author herself was discovered in a hair salon having her tresses tended by the tress-tenderer-in-chief to the Duchess of Cambridge.

And had it all been worth it? Had the completed interview with Annabel Clapham, famous footballer’s wife turned fashion designer, fulfilled the terms of the brief Laura had explained very carefully to the writer in person before following up with a long email? The interview, she had emphasised, not only had to read well, it had to contain some nugget of information that had never been reported before.

A tall order, this, as Annabel Clapham’s every move was reported on a daily basis. There was practically nothing the public didn’t know about her, or thought they didn’t know. But part of Annabel’s genius for self-promotion was fostering the illusion she was showing everything, while actually revealing very little. Had she revealed anything now?

The short answer to that was no. Laura had been through the piece with a fine-toothed comb and there was only one conclusion to draw. Annabel Clapham had revealed even less than usual. As well as being spectacularly late, the interview was possibly the least probing in the entire history of journalism. It was a masterpiece of cliché-ridden insincerity.

‘I’ve worked really hard,’ Annabel tells me with a dazzling smile. ‘I don’t believe in luck. The harder you work, the luckier you get, right?’

Had she done this piece, Laura thought, she would have probed into the mystery of who really designed the clothes Annabel Clapham claimed to. But this useless writer parroted whatever she was told. Another opportunity missed because Carinthia wanted to court the aristocracy!

Carinthia Gold, Society’s mercurial editor and Laura’s boss, was forever hiring titled staff in the belief that their address books would be useful for the magazine – which they might have been if they ever opened them. Instead Laura had to deal with a succession of drawling debs who, despite being dead from the neck up and lacking the first idea about journalism, still got the plum commissions.

‘What could be more perfect?’ Carinthia had enthused of