Page 25 of How to Find a Romance in a Bookshop

Quickly, they all agreed on Colleen Hoover’s All Your Perfects, because it wasn’t the one that sold the most copies, but it was the most romantic. Jilly Cooper’s first romance, Emily, made the list, as did David Nichols’s One Day.

“Glad to see a male writer on the list at last,” said Mungo. "We men are not completely devoid of romantic sensibility.”

“Yeah, but you mostly are,” teased Petra. She loved Mungo. “Remember all those women who had to get their books published under men’s names,” she told him reprovingly, as if it were his fault. “Talking of which, I’m going to vote for Jane Eyre because it’s—well—because it’s amazing,” she went on.

“Can’t argue with that,” said Flo, writing it down.

“If we’re doing the classics—and, let’s face it—they’re classics for a reason,” said Diana, “I don’t see how we can leave out something by Jane Austen.”

“Agreed,” said Petra, “but which one? My vote goes for Sense and Sensibility,” she proffered.

“That’s my favorite too!” piped up Alison. “That Colonel Brandon . . . just a quietly good hero, all the way through. Honestly? I think I prefer him to Mr. Darcy.” She clapped her hand to her mouth.

Sacrilege indeed.

“Let’s have votes for Sense and Sensibility versus Pride and Prejudice,” suggested Petra. So far, this list was making her want to buy and re-read every single one of them.

“Can I make it even more complicated and suggest Persuasion too?” piped up Diana.

Mungo and Flo groaned. “We can’t have three,” said Flo firmly.

Pride and Prejudice narrowly took first place in a show of hands, but Petra was seriously wondering whether to get stocks of both, as she loved Colonel Brandon too. After all, they were going to have two Jilly Coopers.

“This list is starting to get out of hand,” she observed. “Let’s just agree on a couple more and then get onto our Jill Mansell.” They had all read the latest Jill Mansell in advance, and Petra had loved it.

Eventually, they agreed on The Great Gatsby as the best example of doomed infatuation. This pleased Mungo enormously as it was another male writer. There was talk of Atonement too, but—in the end—the final place on the list went to Sally Thorne’s The Hating Game, to Petra’s delight, as she thought it was the most perfect rom-com she had read in a long time.

“Oh, except, hang on,” said Petra, as they refilled glasses in preparation for their literary discussion on the chosen book. “This is the Beach Reads Book Club, so we can’t not have its inspiration, The Beach Reads Book Club by Kathryn Freeman.”

“Absolutely!” they all chorused. “Another book about books,” sighed Diana happily. “I bloody love those.”

“That’s my reading list sorted for the next few weeks,” agreed Mungo. “Petra, please put me down for copies of the whole lot.”

“Perfect,” said Petra, making a note.

“But, darling, we’ve got most of these at home,” said Diana. “In fact, when I moved in with you, I think I brought my own copies, so we’ve probably got jolly nearly two copies of them all.”

“No matter,” said Mungo firmly. “I want new, beautiful copies,” he told Petra. “The most lovely edition of each, please. Hardback preferably.”

“Good idea,” said Petra, who had been thinking the same. People were already going to have these books. Beautiful new editions were the way forward, she thought, remembering Ross’s first present to her—that beautiful edition of Jane Eyre. She treasured it. And Valentine’s Day was about buying romantic presents for each other, not just books for one’s self.

Speaking of which, she already had her eye on the Virago Modern Classics clothbound women’s literature edition of Frenchman’s Creek.

She might treat herself.

Chapter Eleven

“Who did you insult today?” Ross asked, smiling in anticipation.

This was his favorite game, Petra had learned, getting her to amuse him with examples of her disastrously big mouth and inability to filter anything that popped into her brain. “How do you know I insulted anyone today?” she asked peevishly.

He didn’t reply, just raised an eyebrow in query.

“Okay, fine,” she conceded. “There might have been a slight misunderstanding when I rolled my eyes at a lady because we were both watching a little boy pulling all the books out of the shelf onto the floor. The little monkey.”

“Parent?”

“Grandmother,” admitted Petra.