By Alexandra Potter
Romeo, oh-no! Romeo Juliet is already considering even if her live-in boyfriend Will has misplaced his lust for all times -- and for her -- while tragedy moves: He stands her up. On Valentine's Day. Then a few jerk in a complicated motor vehicle splashes her with icky London rain water, takes an excellent, challenging examine her, and drives away. what is worse he was once wonderful, the type of man you dream might sweep you off your feet...or at the very least take into accout you on Valentine's Day. On best of getting to win a major advertisements account at paintings it is a ask yourself Juliet does not cave in right into a puddle herself. The process real love by no means did run delicate To Juliet's shock, the secret motive force seems to be an adman named Sykes -- her pageant for the new account -- and he is particularly sorry concerning the splashing. So sorry that he whisks Juliet away for a romantic weekend in Verona, the storied domestic of her Shakespearean namesake. A humorous factor occurs, even though. whilst Juliet will get again, Will's all candy back and Sykes pitches an advert crusade suspiciously just like Juliet's. all of sudden it is time for reasonable Juliet to choose no matter if she and Sykes are meant-to-be star-crossed fanatics -- or even if Romeo has been correct through her aspect all alongside.
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Additional resources for Calling Romeo
Eightysomething and still going strong, despite a spot of arthritis, failing eyesight and the death of her husband, Albert, Violet had taken it upon herself to be a surrogate grandmother to anyone in the street under fifty. Always sending out birthday cards every year, which she made from cutting up old Christmas cards with pinking scissors, she regularly gave presents of handknitted vests and frosted icing butterfly buns. Will, who was one of her favorites, had quite a collection of unworn knit-one-purl-two oatmeal vests in the back of his wardrobe.
That's exactly what she felt like doing. And with a mask to hide behind, she could do anything. Anything at all. They headed through the impressive marble entrance hall toward the sound of chatter and clinking champagne glasses. Over the years Juliet had been to a lot of advertising junkets and, regardless of the hype that surrounded them, they were always just bog-standard office Christmas office party minus Slade and the mince pies. An empty dance floor with a few secretaries selfconsciously braving the peripheries, the mustachioed DJ with his collection of ABBA and Fatboy Slim for the under-forties, not to mention the unnerving spectacle of seeing workmates dressed up in their "Saturday-night-out" pulling garb of boob tubes and novelty waistcoats.
Juliet felt her toes curling like the witch in Wizard of Oz. Over the years she'd got used to Trudy's revolting habits of belching, farting and—worst of all—blowing her nose with her fingers in the street when she thought nobody was looking. Usually she just ignored her, but not tonight. Tonight Juliet could quite happily have killed her. It was with relief that she saw Magnus, SGC's creative director, making a beeline for their happy threesome. Thundering toward them in a Henry VIII costume, he was pushing his way through a crowd of photographers who were taking pictures of a girl-band member and her latest accessory—a newborn sprog which she had strapped across her ample cleavage in the obligatory Bill Amberg sheepskin papoose—while her rockstar boyfriend was threatening to nut them.
Calling Romeo by Alexandra Potter