Sophie Kinsella Novels & Stories

Sophie raised her eyebrows and gestured to Scarlett to follow her as she began walking upstairs. Sophie was just that type of girl– she didn’t care that her boyfriend, Jeff Richards, was some big businessman in the area and that Sophie herself was basically a nobody. Sophie didn’t let that sort of thing get to her– no matter what anyone around her said. At last, Scarlett and Sophie got to the banquet hall. Sophie was a social butterfly; she could talk and become friends with practically anybody. Scarlett watched her popping up here and there. She was entertaining the guests as though she were the hostess of the party herself!

I added if it was any consolation. Without speaking up she rushed out of my office in tears while the rest employee dropped their jaw as if they had seen a ghost and their eyes bulged out of their eye socket. “Sir” The lady who came in with Vanilla iced tea and had lipstick smudged all over her face called shyly. “Yes Miss...” I stopped when I realized I didn’t know her name. “Sophie” She announced more brightly than she had sounded earlier “Sophie Wells” She added again but this time her voice trembled and her eyes were fixed on someone.

Sophia stared at the door and then to Killian. “What was that Killian?” “I bought her some chips, cereals and crisps” “Why would you buy her some chips, cereals and crisps?” “She has a kid” Killian shrugged. “Yeah and she’s rich. I’m sure she travels with her credit card” Sophia kept staring at him. “What is it Killian?” “She’s my wife” Killian said and Sophia laughed for a while and frowned. “Are you insane Killian?” “Yes I am Sophia”

“Love.” “Kitchen,” she sings, and I find Yoel on her hip, holding a batter covered spoon, Teddy on the floor with an almost empty batter bowl and Lizzie licking mixing beaters. “What are we making in here,” I laugh. “Cookies and a cake!” Lizzie says. I kiss her head and look at Sophie. She has given birth three times in 5 years, and she still looks sixteen. I love her so much. “The King has asked me to meet with him,” I say. I don’t call him Zach around Sophie anymore. I keep it very professional and will until I know what is happening with them.

Chantelle is working at the coffee shop, and she sees a customer enter. She's surprised to see that it's Delcan, the handsome, wealthy man she met the other night. She feels a little flustered, but she tries to act cool and collected. As Delcan walks up to the counter, he says, "Hello, I'd like to order a coffee, please." He smiles at Chantelle, and she feels her heart skip a beat. She's nervous, but she tries to play it cool. "Sure thing," she says, and she starts making his coffee. Chantelle hands Delcan his coffee, and as he takes it, their hands touch briefly. They both look up, a little surprised by the contact. There's an awkward moment of silence, and then Delcan says, "Thanks for the

A fucking joke. Then there was Jennifer Fernandez. The fucking old bitch. Sophie remembered how she tried so hard, to not to let it show. Smile and nod each day to every demand people of great power gives her. Because of her status? Because of her education? Sophie is at loss why can't someone like her cannot belong in a world of Julian Fernandez?

Some common wound. "Well," Sophie says finally. She pulls her hand back from Daniel's knee. The flirtation draining from her posture. Her shoulders relax. Her smile softens. "If you ever figure it out, give me a call. I'm excellent at celebrating good news. And even better at consoling bad news." "I'll keep that in mind." "You should." She picks up her champagne. The glass is almost empty now, just a few bubbles clinging to the bottom. "I'm very good at consolation." "I bet you are."

“Nathan Hale. An Investment Strategist. Very smart. Very sharp and Very annoying.” I blinked. “Annoying?” Sophie let out a small laugh. “Yes. He thought he could talk down to me just because I work at a cafe. So, Of course, I had to set him straight.” I couldn’t help but smile. “of course, you did.” Sophie and her weird taste in men. I thought she wanted to rant about the guy and now she souding like a small girl who has a crush. Then “But,” She added. “He’s something…but something seems off about him.”

“If you’re watching this, it means I didn’t make it. Or I finally walked away far enough to matter. Sophie — you were always going to win. Because you didn’t need to be the smartest. Or the richest. You just needed to stay. I couldn’t stay. But I’m glad you did.” Sophie didn’t say a word. She just nodded. In a dusty, sun-washed community in rural Kenya, Sophie Burnett stepped onto a makeshift wooden stage. There were no lights. No cameras. Just people. Farmers. Mothers. Students. Activists. Listeners. She wore no blazer. Just a white shirt and jeans. A scarf tied around her wrist — gold and black. She held no notes. She just spoke. “There was a time I thought leadership meant having answers.

He knew his job. Sophie walked closer, her heels soundless on the polished marble floor. She had dressed in something soft and cream colored, elegant, with her hair swept behind one shoulder. That was the thing about Sophie. She always presented herself like she was the protagonist in every room, even if she had walked into someone else’s story. I poured myself another drink from the minibar. Whisky. Aged. Sharp. The kind that burned going down but warmed the spine. Sophie’s voice broke the quiet. “You have Stella.”