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The Law of Attraction: the perfect laugh-out-loud read for autumn 2018
Roxie Cooper
‘A fun and sassy tale full of laugh-out-loud antics from the off. 5 stars’ HeatAmanda Bentley has always dreamed of being a barrister…But as a platinum blonde bombshell from the wrong side of town, with a perfect tan and sleek high heels, she doesn’t exactly look the part – or fit in with the brash public school boys and cold posh girls of Newcastle Crown Court’s robing room. Amanda’s never been one to back down from a challenge, and so when she wins a prestigious pupillage following law school, she’s determined to make the most of her chance – and make all her dreams come true.Only three things stand in her way: Sid Ryder – the sexy, irresistible barrister who she absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, sleep with. At all. Marty Gregg – her smarmy law school nemesis, who she's in direct competition with for the top job. And her big, dark secret that could jeopardise everything she's worked so hard for.Who said that following the laws of attraction was going to be easy…?Perfects for fans of Legally Blonde, Lindsey Kelk and Joanna Bolouri‘Laugh-out-loud funny, dramatic in places, fast-paced and fun, this sparkling novel quite literally had me hooked from the first page. I loved all the legal gossip, the back-stabbing and the richly-developed characters and I was routing for Amanda all the way. I downed this novel like my favourite Prosecco!’Sasha Wagstaff‘Well, its a 5* from me. What an unforgettable debut’ Samantha Tonge‘Couldn’t resist. Its slick and props funny too.’ Alexandra Brown‘The Law of Attraction…made me feel all the feels. Thought it was sassy, sexy and smart’ Anna BellIt’s a fun, feisty and fabulous read, and I can’t wait to see what Roxie will write next.’ Cressida McLaughlin
Amanda Bentley has always dreamed of being a barrister…
But as a platinum blonde bombshell from the wrong side of town, with a perfect tan and sleek high heels, she doesn’t exactly look the part – or fit in with the brash public school boys and cold posh girls of Newcastle Crown Court’s robing room. Amanda’s never been one to back down from a challenge, and so when she wins a prestigious pupillage following law school, she’s determined to make the most of her chance – and make all her dreams come true.
Only three things stand in her way: Sid Ryder - the sexy, irresistible barrister who she absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, sleep with. At all. Marty Gregg - her smarmy law school nemesis, who she’s in direct competition with for the top job. And her big, dark secret that could jeopardise everything she’s worked so hard for.
Who said that following the laws of attraction was going to be easy…?
Fans of Legally Blonde, Joanna Bolouri, Catherine Bennetto and Nicola Doherty will fall head over heels for The Law of Attraction.
The Law of Attraction
Roxie Cooper
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
ROXIE COOPER
was born and bred in Middlesbrough. After studying Classics at university, she became a dancer in a nightclub for a few years before going travelling and living in Australia. When she returned, she swapped dancing on a bar, to practising at the Bar, and became a barrister for seven years.
It was after being constantly told ‘Ooh! You don’t look like a barrister!’ by absolutely everyone she met that the idea for her debut novel was born.
Roxie lives in Yarm, a pretty little market town in the north-east. She’s a bit (lot) obsessed with Prince and spends far too much time watching him on YouTube. Her hobbies include watching musicals, making her hair as big (and blonde) as possible, and wishing she was Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
To the lovely and amazing Sarah Manning – thank you for finding me in the slush pile and falling in love with the characters and story I created. Thank you for being the best agent an author could hope for and giving me the best advice and support I could ever want. But, most of all, thank you for the best lunches and crazy chats (thank God nobody else can hear them!).
A huge thank you to my fantastic editor, Anna Baggaley, and the whole team at HQ and Harper Collins. I will never forget that boiling hot September day I first came to your offices and you were bursting with excitement about this book, and it hasn’t stopped since. I am so lucky, and proud, to be part of this incredible publishing house.
It’s no exaggeration to say that this book would never have been completed without the immense support from my author network and followers on Twitter. Sorry about the cliché, but there really are too many to list. However, special mentions go out to Katie Marsh, Cesca Major and Isabelle Broom for very kindly inviting me to their snazzy book launches in London, where they’d always fill me with encouragement and send me back north full of fire to get this book finished. Extra special thanks to Katie for holding my hand at the very beginning of the process – you gave me the confidence to send my work out into the world.
Thank you to my long-suffering friends, who have had to put up with me going on and on about pretend people and edits for the past year. Laura Knights, Dawn Chaplin, Andrea Bruce, Caroline Wilkinson, Clare Beaumont, Emma Watson and Paula Binney – thank you for pouring wine down my neck when I needed it most and allowing me to just sit and do all the stress-y faces.
Thank you, Sasha Wagstaff, for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you over the last few years. But I think I’ve finally managed to nail that hashtag shizzle we created.
To my beautiful friend Carol Nuttall, who was there from the start. Who’d have thought a TV movie would be so inspirational? Let’s never stop believing…
My adorable Costa boys in Yarm! Thank you Allan Brown, Mickey Brown, Jonny Fish, Greg Kent, Ollie Mash, Dom Pugh and Bradley Walker for cheering me on with smiles, laughter and the best medium skinny lattes. Thank you, also, to the customers in Costa for clearing off as soon as they see me come in now so that I can sit at ‘my writing table’ – you guys truly are the best!
Thanks to ‘This Guy’ for the trip to Roseberry Topping and getting me to the summit with the Rocky soundtrack and beers. Steve Dobson, thank you for being such a magical, glittery, purple star.
A last massive thank you to anyone who has ever asked how the writing is going, what the book is about, when it’s out, or supported me in any way – it never, ever went unnoticed. Thank you to all my family, friends and people in Yarm. You have made this girl feel loved.
For those who thought I couldn’t
Contents
Cover (#uc22b7ce5-c1f6-5aa5-82aa-029f25aad26c)
Blurb (#uf4df3842-7c93-5295-8837-f5fd7fece04b)
Title Page (#u21ce7d43-492c-591f-a1ee-b6a7717a1ec5)
Author Bio (#u602717d1-bba3-56f8-9cd0-e91b3e8d1a68)
Acknowledgements (#u6cf201ce-9f34-5a39-8b01-b6d354d714f5)
Dedication (#u762e94a2-3470-581c-a98c-7039a80f4ffa)
Prologue (#ulink_37080183-b352-5815-990d-8e4a66bc8a20)
Chapter One (#ulink_05e2e642-b541-5f2f-80e5-625c679a0703)
Chapter Two (#ulink_14bbf152-1806-5ebd-92be-e9442fb284e9)
Chapter Three (#ulink_9746c86a-da86-52c4-94c1-8495374436d4)
Chapter Four (#ulink_5c41d11d-fc82-59d1-b00c-ebbf2e93e304)
Chapter Five (#ulink_bd08115e-610c-5a18-9bb4-26a0fbdbd3da)
Chapter Six (#ulink_fdc453b7-b067-5dc9-96fd-2067fd6d3811)
Chapter Seven (#ulink_3c7b5204-02ec-507b-8c9b-77965188b5a2)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_41e981e9-46ee-590f-8d39-9f05453ae6bb)
12.03 p.m.
Saturday 1st November, 2008
They say love and hate are flip sides of the same coin. People can hate those they love, and love those they hate – and everything in between.
Oh, I don’t know, emotions are complicated.
But I regret doing it the second it’s over.
It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for the past three minutes, but at the same time it’s like my rapid breathing is having a sprint with my heart rate to see which can get to the finish line first. The finish line, presumably, is where I spontaneously combust with shame, guilt and horror over what I’ve just done.
A fifteen-year-old girl should not be doing this.
Most girls my age, at this time on a Saturday afternoon, are mooching around town, giggling at boys they fancy, trying on inappropriate clothes and make-up. But then again, I have never been ‘most girls’, and that’s why I’ve ended up here, today… doing this.
A crowd has started to gather, desperately trying to see what all the fuss is about. I’m furiously twiddling the thin black hair bobble I always keep around my wrist – something I always do when I’m nervous.
Three police cars are parked at skewed angles on the road as a result of the speed at which they’ve approached the scene, screeching to a halt, just like in the movies.
It was an eerie approach; no sirens, just a mesmerising sea of bright-blue lights to frame that brief episode of violent activity, played out to a soundtrack of shouted commands and angry, desperate yelling.
And then relative calm.
I can’t move.
What have I done?
I wait for the feelings I had expected: relief, release, revenge – the dish best served cold, or so they say.
But I’m just cold, numb and utterly consumed by the enormity of the moment.
Until it comes, in a savage, irresistible torrent. Guilt strikes like a lightning bolt to my conscience. A tsunami of crushing shame and pure, unadulterated worthlessness, washing through me, sweeping me away to be broken on the rocks of my own self-loathing.
The worst thing about it all is that I should still hate him, but I don’t. I should feel a satisfying sense of revenge, but I don’t.
But that’s the thing about emotions, they’re complicated.
Fucking hell, Amanda Slayder… what have you done?
CHAPTER 1 (#ulink_c0a4e51e-ee17-5d3d-97ff-84854fadc1a9)
‘It’s all well and good saying you have all these scholarships, Miss Bentley, but they have to give them to people like you, don’t they?’
Not quite what I expected as an opening question.
I thought they might start with ‘Why do you want to be a barrister?’ or ‘Why do you want to work at these Chambers?’, but not that.
I pause for a few seconds, unsure how to react. If it was a normal person I’d verbally smack them round the earhole for being so rude, but I can’t do that, for two reasons. First, I would blow any chance I have of being offered a pupillage, a job as a junior barrister, here. Second, pupillage interviews are notorious for having a ‘bad cop’ on the panel and there’s a pretty good chance that he is mine. I need to handle this carefully, not blow up in the manner of an angry, hysterical, working-class hero.
Having said that, he’s looking at my long, blonde, peroxided-within-an-inch-of-its-life hair with such disdain, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was appalled, expecting I’d been invited to interview based entirely upon my background (and looks). Ten eyes burn into me, waiting for an answer.
‘People like me?’
‘Well, it’s fair to say your background isn’t conventional in terms of the average barrister…’ he points out.
‘Well, that depends on your definition of conventional and who wants to be average anyway?’
Oh hell. Too feisty.
The other four panel members smirk and scribble down notes. God only knows what.
Shut this down, Amanda.
‘I can assure you I worked hard to obtain those scholarships. I attended rigorous interviews with panels not unlike this one. There’s no doubt in my mind, I was selected upon merit as opposed to my “background”.’
‘Hmm, very well,’ Mr Rude says curtly, without looking up. It’s said in the kind of irritated tone that says he wishes he could really go to town on me, but time constraints won’t allow it.
I focus on breathing and not looking completely intimidated and/or terrified. The other four interviewers on the panel are watching everything I’m doing.
Observing.
