Who could resist this man?

      Amy looked at Quinn, standing there with his dark hair shining in the light from the streetlamp. He had been her knight in shining armour tonight, riding up out of nowhere and vanquishing her enemies. Her heart swelled with old, foolish emotions.

      Even though it wasn’t the smartest thing to do given her unrequited crush, Amy pressed a kiss to Quinn’s cheek. His arms came around her, and the next thing she knew she was clamped against his chest. His wool coat was as soft as silk beneath her hands, his body beneath it big and strong. Amy closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of expensive wool and subtle, woody aftershave.

      A rush of warm emotion washed over her. One look, one touch and she was thinking about all the things she’d never have. It was too hard. Too cruel. Yet still she wanted him.

      Dear Reader,

      This book was inspired by my good friend Helen’s recounting of how she and her husband moved from friends to lovers. They were renovating an old theatre, and through the long hours of talking and working together they fell in love. Naturally, such a great real-life story got my imagination ticking over. When I closed my eyes, however, I kept picturing an old cinema rather than a playhouse, and thus the Grand Picture Theatre was born.

      I have always loved Art Deco architecture. There are some truly amazing old cinemas in my home town of Melbourne, and when I visited Florence, Italy, a few years ago I fell in love with the Odeon Cinehall, a stunning Art Nouveau cinema that just took my breath away. If you are ever in that neck of the woods, I highly recommend a visit—they play lots of English language movies and watching a film there makes you feel like royalty.

      I hope you enjoy Quinn and Amy’s story. I love hearing from readers, and you can find my e-mail address at my website, www.sarahmayberry.com.

      Until next time,

       Sarah Mayberry

      About the Author

      SARAH MAYBERRY lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her partner, who is also a writer. When she’s not gazing off into space thinking about the characters in her latest story, she loves going to the movies, yoga, meditation and shoe shopping (not neccessarily in that order!). she’s hoping that by the time you read this she will be the proud owner of a new puppy—breed yet to be decided.

      HER BEST FRIEND

      SARAH MAYBERRY

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      This book would not exist if I did not have

      Chris by my side.

      Having his story smarts and endless patience

      on my side makes all the difference. Love you.

      I also want to thank Helen for sharing the story

      of her real-life romance with me—thanks for

      giving me Amy and Quinn!

      And last, but never least, thanks to Wanda.

      Bless the day I ended up on your desk.

       CHAPTER ONE

      AMY PARKER SLOWED her steps as she approached the Grand Picture Theatre. The setting sun painted the old cinema’s crumbling white Spanish Mission facade pink and apricot, and for a moment—if she squinted and really used her imagination—she could picture the Grand as it had once been: elegant, beautiful, a testament to a bygone era.

      Four more days.

      Then the sale contract would be signed off and the Grand would be hers and she could start making the image in her mind a reality.

      Amy stepped closer to the double glass doors at the entrance. The front windows had been covered with newspaper for years, but a section on the right door had peeled away. She stood on her toes and shaded her eyes with her hands so she could see through the gap. Inside, the marble parquet tiles were dull with dirt and grime while crumpled newspaper, old boxes and dust balls dotted the floor. The once stunning concession stand was scarred with age, the mirrors behind it tarnished and chipped. It would take weeks to set things right in there. And the foyer was the least of her problems. Way down on her To Do list.

      The roof needed fixing, the stucco on the facade had to be renewed. The plumbing was shot and the whole of the interior smelled of damp and mold. She had her work cut out for her, that was for sure.

      She smiled. She couldn’t freaking wait.

      “Amy. There you are. I tried you at the store but your mother said you’d left already.”

      It was Reg Hanover, council chairman. Even though he was wearing yet another of his truly hideous ties, she beamed at him. On Friday, this portly middle-aged man and his fellow council members would be signing over the Grand to her in exchange for her hard-won savings and a sizable bank loan. Right now, she loved him, ugly tie and all.

      “Reg. Hey there. I was just drooling,” she said. “Prematurely, I know. But I couldn’t help myself.”

      Reg’s face was pink from the walk from her parents’ hardware store.

      “Yes. Well. About that.” He cleared his throat and smoothed a hand down his tie. This one was beige, with a picture of a black horse rearing on it. Really bad, even for Reg.

      She shifted her attention to his face. There was something about the way he couldn’t quite make himself meet her eyes. And the way he kept swallowing nervously.

      “Is there some kind of problem?”

      “Amy, there’s no point in beating around the bush. I’m just going to say it—we’ve had another offer. And we’re going to take it.”

      Amy blinked a few times, trying to make sense of his words. “I don’t understand.”

      “Ulrich Construction has come in with a last-minute offer. The council needs to think of the whole community, and we believe this is the best outcome for everyone.”

      He sounded stiff, as though he’d been rehearsing his speech in his mind.

      “But we had a deal. A contract.”

      “No, Amy, we had a conversation. A conversation is not legally binding.”

      She gaped. She couldn’t believe he was being so slippery.

      “We negotiated a contract, Reg. I have a copy at home. You were going to sign it at this week’s meeting.”

      “I’m sorry, but we had a better deal come in, and we took it. I know you’re disappointed, but that’s the way these things go.”

      He checked his watch then glanced up the street, as though he had better things to do than break her heart.

      “Have you signed off on the deal yet?” she asked.

      “No, but we will on Friday.”

      “I want to talk to the other councillors,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and lifting her chin.

      “Fine. They’ll all be at the meeting. Members of the public are welcome.”

      Members of the public? Yesterday the council had been ready to sign over ownership of the Grand to her and today she was a member of the public?

      She was still trying to find something to say that didn’t contain the words sneaky rat fink when Reg reached out and patted her arm.

      “It’s probably for the best. It was unlikely you were ever going to be able to