Table of Contents

Legal Page

Title Page

Book Description

Dedication

Trademarks Acknowledgement

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

Chapter Eighteen

About the Author

Legal Page

A Totally Bound Publication

Sparking Stilettos

ISBN # 978-1-78430-568-0

©Copyright Jess Wright 2015

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright May 2015

Edited by Nicki Richards

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

Title Page

A Sparkling Novel

SPARKLING STILETTOS

Jess Wright

Book Description

Book one in the Sparkling series

Chasing dreams can be tough, even when you run as fast as your bespoke stilettos will take you…

As Megan Winter’s wedding day approaches, her heart flutters with excitement. Dylan Dunkin-Buckshaw is a great catch. Handsome in a sharp, confident kind of way, he's everything she’s ever wanted in a man and a husband. A match made in heaven—right?

With a fledgling shoe design business that’s set to take off, Megan decides to take control of her life and strut her stuff. With the help of loyal friends and a handsome stranger she begins to turn heads and get noticed. She’s hitched her wagon to the stars and she’s planning on enjoying the ride, wearing her best stilettos whilst she does it!

But will she reach those glittering stars? Is there something lurking in the shadows to hold her back? Under all the excitement and sparkle of her new found adventures there seems to be an ominous presence trying to take the shine from her happiness.

Dedication

Dedication

Dedicated to my family, who are my world.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

British Airways: International Airlines Group

MAC: MAC Cosmetics

iPhone: Apple, Inc.

Gucci: Kering

Rolls Royce: Volkswagen Aktiengesellschaft

Wedding March: Felix Mendelssohn

Tesco: Tesco PLC

Downton Abbey: ITV Studios, Carnival Films

Question Time: British Broadcasting Corporation

Subway: Doctor’s Associates

Heathrow: Heathrow Airport Holdings

Tube: London Underground Limited

Rolex: Rolex SA

King’s College: King’s College London

Dorothy: L. Frank Baum/Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

Prada: Prada S.p.A.

Marks & Spencer: Marks & Spencer plc

Vera Wang: Vera Wang

Jimmy Choo: Jimmy Choo plc

Louboutin: Louboutin

Google: Google Inc.

Wikipedia: Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.

Lady and the Tramp: The Walt Disney Company

French Connection: French Connection Group PLC

Costa: Whitbread PLC

Volvo: Volvo Group

Moët & Chandon: Moët & Chandon

Oscar: Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences

Tarzan: Edgar Rice Burroughs

Apollo: Nimax Theatres

The Ritz: Ellerman Group

Cheshire Cat: Lewis Caroll

Stella: Anheuser-Busch InBev N.V.

Nike: Nike, Inc.

Mickey Mouse: The Walt Disney Company

Molton Brown: Kao Corporation

Harrods: Harrods Ltd.

Selfridges: Selfridges Retail Ltd.

Jingle Bells: James Lord Pierpont

Burberry: Burberry Group

Cinderella: The Walt Disney Company

Blahniks: Manolo Blahnik

Louis Vuitton: LVMH Moët Hennessy

Jo Malone: Jo Malone London

Notting Hill: Universal Pictures

Baywatch: FreemantleMedia Ltd.

Empire State: Empire State Realty Trust

Chapter One

Megan

“Oh my goodness, darling, you look fabulous. Utterly…totally…bloody fabulous.”

Megan held her full champagne flute to Brendon’s and they chinked rims, the sound tinkling around the plush West London hotel room.

“Thank you,” she said then hesitated with the glass by her lips. She stared in the mirror at her unfamiliar bridal reflection. With her dark hair piled high, her makeup natural and long, dangling silver earrings, she hardly recognised herself. “But do you think it’s maybe a bit over the top, you know, with the tiara?”

“No, no, not at all,” Brendon said, shoving his hand on his waist and jutting out his left hip. “You, my beauty, are a princess, so of course you should be wearing a bejewelled crown.” He tutted and tapped the base of her stem. “Sup, sup, it’s your wedding day, champers needs to be drunk from dawn till dusk.”

“Yes, but not too much,” Georgie said with a smile but also a hint of sternness in her tone. “We don’t want you sloshed as you walk down the aisle, Megan. You’ve got towering heels to keep control of. Beautiful, bespoke heels yes, I agree, but still, they’re high even for you.”

Megan took a deep breath and curled her toes into the soft beige carpet—her feet were a little cold even though the room was warm. In one hour she would be wearing the stunning new heels she’d designed and walking down the aisle to marry Dylan Dunkin-Buckshaw—yes, she would be Mrs Megan Rose Dunkin-Buckshaw and damn proud to be.

She could live with the name. Of course she could. She’d be sad to say goodbye to Winter, though, because Megan Rose Winter had a nice ring to it. But she’d used the name Winter to set up her beloved shoe design business a few years before, so if she looked at it like that, she wasn’t really giving up her name. She’d still have it, and still use it on a daily basis. The only difference would be that her driving licence and bank account would say Dunkin-Buckshaw. But what did that matter? Who ever saw a person’s licence or bank account? Well, Dylan would see her bank account now. He’d said they’d pool their cash once married—apparently that was what couples did after tying the knot.

“Are you sure you’re not going for the red?” Brendon held up her scarlet MAC lipstick. It was her favourite, the only one she wore. But today she’d decided not to. Today she was going for nude gloss.

“No.” She shook her head. “Dylan doesn’t really like it. He says it’s…” She paused, remembering the conversation.

“What?” Georgie fussed with a tendril of Megan’s hair that had escaped. “What does he say?”

“Yes, tell us?” Brendon added with a frown. “I’m curious now.”

“He thinks it’s a bit tarty.”

Georgie gasped and shook her head. “No!”

Brendon slapped his hand over his mouth and widened his eyes.

“He said that?” Georgie asked. “He actually, really and truly said that?”

Megan shrugged. It was no big deal. He was entitled to have an opinion.

“But you’ve worn that shade for years.” Brendon tutted. “It’s so…you. It’s your signature lippy.”

“And it suits you so well, highlights the pretty shape of your mouth,” Georgie added.

“Thank you, but it’s just for today.”

“Are you sure?” Brendon asked. “Because if you never wear it again I’ll be heartbroken. In fact, I may as well just lie down here right now and die.” He gestured to the four-poster bed then made a show of falling back onto it. He threw his arms over his face. “Oh, goodbye to the scarlet lips that we know and love. How can I go on?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s only lipstick.” Megan laughed. “Come on. Help me with the dress.”

Georgie glanced at her iPhone. “Yes, you should get dressed. Time is ticking away. The bells will soon be ringing.”

Megan stood. Her stomach was heavy even though she hadn’t been able to eat that morning. Nerves, most likely. This was, after all, the biggest day of her life—or so she’d been told. If she wasn’t nervous there’d be something wrong with her, right? If there were no butterflies swarming she’d be abnormal. Every bride had this sensation, she’d read about it, seen it in movies.

“How does this feel?” Georgie asked, adjusting the ties on the back of the white basque Megan wore. “Too tight?”

“No it’s fine. It kind of feels like it’s holding me together.” Megan huffed at her silliness but it was the truth. With all the emotions rolling about inside her—apprehension, excitement, awestruck—the basque was like wearing a hug. It was comforting and made her feel secure.

“Your new husband will love that later,” Brendon said, crawling off the bed and nodding approvingly. His gaze took in Megan standing in her sexy underwear. “My, my, if I wasn’t into men, my sweetpea, I’d do you.”

“Well thanks, I think.” Megan giggled and reached for a pack of unopened white stockings.

“Who are you kidding, Brendon?” Georgie said, before picking up her champagne and taking a sip. “I shouldn’t think you’ve got the energy for any of that after last weekend.”

“Last weekend was a business trip.” Brendon scowled.

“Hah, business, yes, if you’re in the business.” Georgie rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows that you and Timothy Hung-like-a-Donkey Curtis weren’t interested in checking out that hotel in Brighton for a possible gig, you were just on a shagathon trip.”

“Well, I take great offence to that, Georgie Porgy Pudding and Pie, because actually that’s exactly what we did. Prada is looking at holding a launch party there for their new line of summer purses”

“Yes, we’ll believe it when we see it.” Georgie laughed and set down her glass.

Normally Megan’s ears would have pricked at the mention of Prada summer purses—she loved purses for all seasons and all occasions—but not today.

“You want me to do that, Megan?”

“No, I can manage.” The wrapper on the stocking box was proving tricky and her hands were a little shaky.

“Here.” Georgie took the package and deftly opened it.

“Thanks.” Megan smiled. She was so happy that her two best friends were with her today. She couldn’t have done it without them. They were her rocks, her pillars of support, her port in a storm. They’d met over five years ago at a mutual friend’s party, all newly single and all wanting to have some fun. Before long they’d been partying hard, but also kicking back and putting the world to rights together. Now they spoke or dropped in on each other most days, did lunch or met for cocktails every week, and tried to get away at least once each summer to worship the sun on some tropical beach.

“Don’t look so worried,” Georgie said with a slight frown.

“Yeah, are you okay?” Brendon asked.

“I’m fine, absolutely fine.” Megan took a deep breath. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.” She gathered the first stocking and carefully fed her right foot into it then pulled it up to her thigh. She repeated the action with her left and smoothed the lace holdup trims to ensure there were no creases.

“Ah, ah, one more thing before the dress.” Georgie dipped into her handbag. “Here.”

“A garter?” Megan queried. “Really? Isn’t that kind of old-fashioned?”

“Of course it’s old-fashioned, it’s traditional.” Brendon nodded seriously. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

“Yes, you have to wear one. It would be bad luck otherwise.” Georgie sank to her knees at Megan’s feet, garter held into a wide ‘O’. She smiled up at Megan. “The tiara is old, the dress is new and this is something borrowed and…” She twisted the garter to show off a tiny blue bow. “Is also blue.”

“Oh, okay.” Megan giggled at how serious her friends were taking this tradition. What was going to happen if she didn’t have something old, new, borrowed and blue? It would hardly spoil the day or curse their marriage for all of time.

Would it?

Georgie slipped the garter up Megan’s leg to her thigh.

Megan stroked her finger over the delicate white trim. It was very pretty and no doubt Dylan would enjoy removing it when they reached the bridal suite—possibly with his teeth.

“This dress is to die for,” Brendon said, holding up Megan’s voluminous gown. “All this taffeta, it’s enough to sink a battleship.”

“Yes, I’ll certainly have to navigate carefully through doorways today,” Megan said then took a sip of champagne. She set the glass aside. “Come on then, help me into the monster.” She laughed.

Georgie didn’t laugh with her, instead she sighed and clasped her hands under her chin.

“You okay, Georgie?” Megan asked.

“Yes, of course. I’m just so happy for you and that this day has finally come. We’ve all talked for years about who would be first to get hitched and now it’s happening.”

Megan reached for her hand and squeezed. “It will happen for you and Tom soon, I’m sure it will.”

Georgie and Tom had been together for over a year and things were getting serious. They’d skied at Christmas, met the parents and both had a drawer at each other’s apartment for spare clothes and toiletries—surely a sign of true commitment.

Megan shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not, but it doesn’t matter today. Today is all about you and Dylan.”

“Who is likely to be arriving at church with his best man as we speak,” Brendon said, before clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “There is an expectant groom waiting, so chop, chop ladies. Enough of this chatter, you two could talk for England.”

“And you couldn’t?” Georgie grinned.

It took both her friends to assist Megan into her dress. Luckily she could step into it, which meant her hair and makeup weren’t in danger, but still, the sheer amount of material created quite a challenge.

Brendon fussed over the many hems, straightening the layers and fluffing it out so the periphery was even bigger. Georgie fiddled with the top, drawing up the side zipper and puffing the cupped silk sleeves.

“It’s so beautiful,” Georgie said wistfully.

“And so virginal,” Brendon said, then cackled. “Except we know that’s not true.”

Megan skimmed her palms over the tight material at her waist then over her hips. Her hands became lost in the meringue nest of taffeta. “I’ve had some fun but I have standards.” She rolled her eyes. “But not as much fun as you, Brendon.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve not finished having fun yet,” he said, standing. “There’s many more fish out there for me to reel in and have my wicked way with.”

“But don’t you want to find the one?” Georgie asked, helping herself to a squirt of Megan’s perfume.

“Yes of course, but not for a while. I’ve still got things I want to do, places to go, people to meet. I’m not ready to commit to one person, and besides, I wouldn’t know if it was the right person anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Megan asked, taking her perfume from Georgie and spritzing it over her neck and onto her wrists.

“Well, I don’t know how you do it.” He looked between them. “How you can be so sure you’ve met your soulmate? The man you’re meant to be with for all of time. Go to bed with each night and wake up each morning next to.”

“You’ll just know,” Georgie said.

“But how?” Brendon held up his palms. “How? Enlighten me.”

“When you count the hours till you’re going to see them again,” Georgie said. “Think of them when planning what to eat that night so you know they’ll enjoy it. Watch boring old war documentaries because that’s their thing and not mind in the least because you’re snuggled up on the sofa next to them. That’s how you know.”

Megan studied her friend. Georgie lit up when she talked of Tom. He’d captured her heart in a way no other man had. She’d never seen her so happy, so full of life—even the asthma that had always plagued her seemed to have settled. It was as if Tom’s presence in her life was a soothing energy, a balm for her nerves. Megan hoped Tom would pop the question soon. It would feel so right to see Georgie in an elegant white gown walking down the aisle.

The door to the hotel room opened. Megan’s mother, Iris, walked in carrying Gucci, who barked and wriggled as soon as he saw Brendon.

“Baby boy,” Brendon said, rushing to pluck his tiny Pomeranian from Iris’ arms. Gucci’s little pink tongue rushed out to lick his master’s chin and his tail waggled to a rapid tempo.

“Oh, Rose, my beautiful English Rose,” Iris said, halting in her tracks as soon as she saw Megan. Her eyes misted and she pressed her lips together.

“Mum, you promised not to cry,” Megan said, knowing that her mother would. She only ever called her Rose when she was feeling sentimental, and since she’d moved to Australia three years ago, she was more sentimental than ever when the family got together.

“I can’t help it,” Iris said. “My little girl all grown up and getting married.”

“Yes, it seems that way.” Megan smiled and fluffed the tulle on her dress. “What do you think?”

“I think you look beautiful. Dylan is lucky to have you. Very lucky indeed.”

“Here, here to that.” Georgie nodded.

“Abso-bloody-lutely,” Brendon said, slipping a tiny doggie tuxedo over Gucci’s head. It had a small bow tie beneath the chin, an embroidered waistcoat and tails that hung either side of Gucci’s…tail.

Megan walked over to her mother and, stretching over the width of the dress, hugged her.

“No, no, please don’t let me mess you up,” Iris said, sniffing delicately.

“You won’t mess me up, Mum, it’s all fine.” Megan placed a soft kiss on her mother’s cheek. She smelt of lavender, as usual, and her skin was soft as satin.

“Oh, but I might.” Iris gave Megan a frantic squeeze then pulled away. “And you look so perfect. It all looks so perfect.” She gestured at the door. “I’ve checked the cake and it’s fabulous, exactly how Dylan wanted, a cascade of sparkling roses from the top tier to the base. The flowers are beautiful too, at the entrance to the reception room. The sweetest shade of baby pink and more gypsophila than you could shake a stick at.”

“Good, that’s good,” Brendon said. “Flowers and cake are important.”

“Where’s Olivia?” Megan asked, wondering where her sister was. Olivia was her third bridesmaid.

“She’s downstairs, with your father.”

“I bet she looks beautiful.” Megan adored how her bridesmaid dress complimented her sister’s colouring. “What about Dad? Is he okay?” Megan asked, reaching for a tissue. She passed it to her mother, who instantly started checking her mascara hadn’t run.

“He’s fine with your sister, she’s keeping an eye on him. She’s good like that. You know, at calming him when he gets anxious.”

“Yes, Olivia’s great with him. But why’s he anxious?” Megan hated seeing her father nervous. He was an all-round great guy, her rock, and as she’d grown from child to adult their relationship had only deepened. She loved him with all her heart.

“He’s about to give away his eldest daughter, of course he’s anxious. He’s not so keen on giving away something so precious to him.” Iris laughed but it held a note of tension. “And you most certainly are precious to him, Rose.”

“Maybe he should look at it like he’s gaining a son rather than giving away a daughter,” Brendon said, ruffling Gucci’s forehead so his fudge-coloured curls stood upright.

“I suppose,” Iris said, sucking in a deep breath. “Yes, maybe that’s how to look at it.”

Megan studied her. She looked worried. Likely because Dad was stressed, even though he needn’t be, he only had to walk a few steps down the aisle—not that she wouldn’t be glad of his arm. Georgie was right, those heels, while stunning and one of her best designs yet, were hard to negotiate.

“Can you do me up?” Georgie asked, stepping in front of Megan. She’d pulled on her baby pink bridesmaid dress but the back zip was awkward for her to reach.

Megan slid it up. Georgie’s hourglass frame suited the figure-hugging style perfectly and reminded her of a Marilyn Monroe photograph she’d seen once. Not least because Georgie’s bubbles of blonde hair had just been cropped to jaw-length.

“Oh, Georgie,” Iris said, “that dress is amazing on you. The colour is gorgeous with your skin tone and your eyes…simply stunning.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning back to Iris. “I’m glad Megan didn’t pick lime green, I couldn’t have pulled that off.”

“I bet you could have worked lime green perfectly well.” Megan laughed, though it was slightly forced because underneath Georgie’s smile she knew there was a hint of longing. She wanted what Megan was about to have, a husband. But it would come soon, she was sure of it. Tom would eventually get around to it and bag the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“What about us?” Brendon said, striding in front of the mirror.

Gucci ran around his ankles, yapping as usual and hoping to be picked up again.

“How do we look?”

“Like the handsomest, gayest bridesmaid ever,” Georgie said then laughed.

Megan reached to tickle Gucci beneath his chin but he wouldn’t stay still for long enough, and besides, she could hardly reach him because of the dress. “And the handsomest doggie bridesmaid ever.”

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