New release - it's been a while!

I know, I know it's been FOREVER since I brought out a new book but there are reasons for this which I'm unable to share for the moment.  As soon as I can, I will.  Promise.

Anyway, 'Half as Good as You' is now available for pre-order on Amazon and will hit your Kindle on 4th October.  The paperback version will be available shortly, once I decide whether to publish through Lulu or Amazon.

If you read it and love it, PLEASE leave a review  - your words help to sell mine.  If you've enjoyed any of my other books, I'd be really grateful for even a one line review.  They really DO make a difference.

Right ... here's the blurb ...

The day after discovering her husband’s infidelity, TV make-up artist Fizz finds herself knocked off her feet (quite literally!) by a passing stranger in the busy Covent Garden rush hour.  

Rescued by an elderly gentleman, an unusual friendship forms, a mystery lottery ticket appears and Fizz realises that she’d never really been as content in her marriage as she’d allowed herself to believe.

With the arrival of two new men on the scene, how long will it be before Fizz hits the jackpot?

And the links for UK Amazon

And USA Amazon 

Just £1.99 - less than a coffee and will last longer!

KISSING FROGS AND DOGS - New release

Tomorrow (22 June) will see the release of my 11th full-length novel, 'KISSING FROGS AND DOGS' - and you can pre-order now for delivery to your Kindle as soon as it goes live! Also available in paperback at Lulu.

THE BLURB:

Daisy's given up on love.
 
She's had the dirty done on her once too often and has put her heart on ice.
 
A chance meeting with a sexy singleton leaves her kicking herself - what a time to become a Born Again Virgin! - but when he suggests she gets a dog for company, she can't begin to imagine the complications that follow.
 
Join Daisy as she falls head over heels with her four-legged friend, discovers that not all men are mongrels and realises that sometimes, once you stop looking, you'll find exactly what you've been searching for.
 
‘KISSING FROGS AND DOGS’
Which one will lead to a fairy-tail ending?

I'm often asked where I get my inspiration from and, with this book, the answer is easy.  Around about last June I decided that the need for a dog in my life was too great to ignore anymore.  The time was right and a niggling thought began to tell me that it was almost essential that I listened to my gut feeling.  Much searching online, convinced that I'd find a dog who 'spoke' to me, and two months later a black bundle of fur, fun and love came into our lives in the shape of Alfie.

I'm a firm believer that many things happen for a reason. Why was it suddenly the right time to take on another little life?  For those who know me well, it's blindingly clear.  Alfie came to help me during the difficult time of my mum passing and to remind me to smile through the grieving process.  In short, he's been my saviour.

So, that got me thinking about how a dog can change a life and thus 'KISSING FROGS AND DOGS' was born. Alfie was by my side as every word was written.  He was my buddy when I returned to work after losing my mum thinking I'd never get the book finished and he forced me to get up and get on with it - and on the days I couldn't, to just go walking until the block lifted.

Without Alfie, there would be no book.  Although don't tell him that - he might want me to give him his share of the royalties to feed his addiction to Doggy Chocs.

So without further ado, here's . . .

Chapter One

'I really think that tonight may be the night, Grace.  Women get a feeling for these things, don't they?'

I was celebrating my twenty-eighth birthday with my best buddy and a mountain of cakes, sandwiches and Earl Grey tea at a posh hotel in Mayfair.  We'd talked about doing it for years and, with the money finally in my account from a particularly lucrative illustrating job, I'd decided to treat us both.

Through a mouthful of egg and cress, Grace replied, nodding enthusiastically, 'Oh, deffo!  When Milo proposed, I practically said yes before the question even had a chance to form on his lips - I just knew it was coming.'  She rubbed her enormously pregnant tummy and continued, 'Oooh ... pass me another smoked salmon sarnie.  Bubba's hungry today.'

Grace and Milo's whirlwind romance and almost instant baby making had given me hope in the wilderness of single life and disastrous dates.  Theirs was a classic love story that made your heart flutter and your pulse quicken - every girl's dream.  In true tradition, their eyes had met across a crowded bar and ... bam ... within a flash, they knew.  There was no going back - they were done for!  He'd bought her a drink, asked her how many babies she wanted and within a week he'd proposed.  No one questioned it.  They were just so right.  He adored everything about her and she reciprocated.  Their happiness gave the rest of us saddo singletons the faith we needed to keep on looking and to believe that love was out there for us somewhere.

Shortly after Grace and Milo married, I bumped into Reece - quite literally.  I was late for a meeting with an author and their publisher, and my head was filled with pixies, magic dust and flying unicorns.  No, I hadn't been on LSD - my mind's usually away with the fairies because that's what I do best.  My speciality, as my friends call it, is LaLaLand.  It's a cosy place to live and certainly beats the real world.  When the going gets tough, I sketch a mystical creature who bestows love on the world and everything is sparkly and shiny again.

Anyway ... I digress.  Bumping into Reece shook me up a bit.  You see, I'd convinced myself that I'd have the same thunderbolt moment with the man of my dreams.  After all, as best friends, hadn't Grace and I always spookily followed one another in the patterns of our fortunes - good and bad?

Let me give you a few examples so that you don't start to get the impression that I'm totally loop-de-loop and I think you'll see what I mean:

I lost my beloved mum when I was only fifteen.

Grace lost hers a year later.

My dad remarried an older lady - the lovely Elsa.

Grace's dad also found love again - except he bought himself a rather young Thai bride on the internet and was happily knackering and bankrupting himself.

My dad has since passed away but he left me with the best stepmum I could have hoped for.  Grace's is OK too but she looks more like a lady-boy and constantly pinches Grace's clothes and her dad's money.

We both failed our driving tests three times before we eventually passed, had our tonsils out at eleven, had crushes on two separate boys called Tim when we were in the sixth form and neither of us passed our GCSE maths despite numerous attempts.

You see?  So, once she met her Prince Charming, I just knew that it wouldn't be long before I followed suit and I was ready and waiting, legs waxed and sexy underwear on ice.

My collision with Reece was just the way I'd come to expect my own love story to begin.  Lady Luck, fate, Cupid, or whoever had the responsibility for the meeting of soul mates, had plotted and planned to lead us both to that moment when we made our connection - in our case, my head with his back as I hurried through one of those stupid glass spinny doors where you're meant to stay in your own section.  As we both spewed out the other side of it and I fell in a heap on the marble entrance hall, he bent to pick up my bag, file, umbrella and mobile and I swear I heard angels singing.  The bemused twinkle in his eye set off butterflies I didn't even know I had - certainly far more than any that had ever fluttered before.  This was it!

'Well, I've heard of falling for someone, but this is ridiculous!' he said as he took my hand to help me to my feet.

Corny?  Yes!  Win me over?  What do you think?

My poor besotted brain struggled to get through my scheduled meeting - not helped by the fact that the book I'd been asked to illustrate was about a Princess bride and her excruciatingly handsome Prince - because after helping me from the floor, Reece had asked if he could meet me for coffee.  Just to see that I hadn't broken anything, he'd said with yet more of that wonderful eye-dancing stuff.

It had been almost six months since that joyous day and I was walking on Cloud Ninety-Nine.  He was good looking, solvent, generous, attentive, funny and rather good in bed.  The only downside was he worked a little too hard - always at weekends - and I worried that I might end up being a lonely wife and mother.  A small price to pay though for having him in my life, but I was sure that once the first stunning baby came along he'd cut down on his hours a bit.

'Where's he taking you?' Grace asked as she devoured a slice of Madeira cake.  'That could give you a better idea.'

'He's booked a table at The Ivy.  Pretty special, huh?'

Grace smiled approvingly, pouring more tea into our fine bone china cups.  'Oh yes!  That does seem like he might be about to pop the question.  Have you got something new to wear?'

'I bought a gorgeous little black dress and some killer heels.  Figured I couldn't go wrong with those.'

'Lucky you!  I couldn't get this bod anywhere near anything little right now - and as for killer heels, just about any shoes cripple me at the moment.'

'Yes, well with any luck, this time next year it'll be me complaining about those sorts of problems.  Oh, Grace!  I can't wait!  Why can't it be eight o'clock already?'

'Promise me you'll ring me as soon as you can.'  Grace was clearly as excited as I was and she suddenly looked all dreamy-eyed as she stared far into the distance.  'Oh, I can just see it now - the candlelight, the soft music playing in the background, you looking good enough to eat and him all chiselled and groomed.  He'll be a little nervous - and you'll be cacking it - but he'll take your hand ever so gently and then he'll utter those words ... bloody hell ... he's over there with another woman!'

I'd been so wrapped up in Grace's description of how things might play out, like a child being lulled by a bedtime story, it took me a while to feel the impact of the dropped bombshell.  What on earth could she possibly mean - over there with another woman?

Grace had carefully placed her delicate cup and saucer onto the table and, as my eyes turned to see where she'd been looking, I kind of wish I'd done the same myself.

Dropping Royal Doulton porcelain on a marble floor makes one hell of a racket.

*****

Luckily we were at a table where we could see them but were obscured enough by a giant pillar for them not to be able to see us.  It brought bile to my mouth to watch them but it had to be done.  Maybe she was his sister or just a friend?  Maybe we were over-reacting.

The kiss he gave her as he got up was our first clue, swiftly followed by two kids who appeared from a table behind him uttering the words, 'Bye Daddy.  See you later.'

Pretty conclusive evidence, I'd say.  Wouldn't you agree?

'Oh, Daisy!'  Grace looked positively sick - either with sympathy or from excessive cake and sandwich consumption - and I pretty much felt the same.  'What are you going to do?'

I could barely think straight but I knew I couldn't just let him get up and walk out of the hotel without him knowing he'd been rumbled.  Gathering every bit of my courage and taking a massive breath, I stood and began to approach the treacherous bastard.  It would be cold comfort but I just wanted to see the look on his face when he realised that his game was up.

The woman I now assumed to be his wife smiled pleasantly at me as I got closer to their table.  Reece had his back to me as he readied to leave and turned to see who she was acknowledging.  He may just as well have had 'Guilty' branded on his forehead - the colour drained from his face, he gulped, his eyes darted like a cornered animal and I could almost hear his sphincter pucker.

Good.  He deserved it, and a whole lot more, and it was on the tip of my tongue to reveal the whole sordid story there and then - to let his, really rather pretty, wife know what a cheating heel he really was.

But then I saw his kids - two girls, wide-eyed and innocent.  Probably Daddy's girls who believed that he was the best man in the world.  I realised then that I couldn't do it to them, I couldn't rob them of that.  A vision of my own dear dad popped into my head and I had to swallow down a mounting sob.  It was because of him that I'd followed my chosen career path.  Years of bedtime stories filled with dragons, magical people and fantasy lands read in his myriad of voices had given me a vivid imagination and a dreamy outlook on life.  In light of recent events, maybe too dreamy, but I couldn't shatter these little girls' lives.  I may have drawn many wicked witches but I would never be one.

'Reece!  How lovely to see you,' I said as lightly as I could manage.  Grace later told me that it was Oscar worthy.  I then turned to his wife and added, 'Hi.  I'm Daisy.  Reece and I worked together years ago.'

'Pleased to meet you,' his wife replied, offering her soft and beautifully manicured hand.  'Was that at Newton Pierce?'

'Yes!  Yes, that's right,' Reece cut in hurriedly.  'Good to see you again, Daisy.  Where are you working now?'

Taking my final look at him and meeting his gaze head on, I replied, 'Oh, I don't work any more.  I'm married with two kids.  You know … these things happen, don't they?'

The colour returned to his face in a flush but he was unable to answer and I was done with him.  I just needed to get out while my dignity was still in one rather fragile piece.

'It was nice to finally meet you,' I said to his wife.  'Reece used to talk about you so much,' I lied with my last reserve of fake jollity and then, as I turned to walk past Reece, I mumbled loud enough for only him to hear, 'May you rot in hell, you stinking piece of crap'.

As birthdays went, it wasn't the best I'd ever had.

*****

Grace insisted that I went home with her and stayed for dinner with her and Milo.

'You can't be alone and miserable on what should have been your special day.  It's unlucky.'

'Unlucky?  Not much more can go wrong, can it?  I thought I'd be betrothed by now and instead I'm single once again and feeling like a complete and utter mug.  I hold you two wholly responsible.  If it wasn't for the fact that you and Milo had given me such unrealistic expectations, I'm sure I wouldn't have been quite so gullible.'

'That's a bit unfair, Daisy,' Milo said gently.  'We were as surprised by it all as you were.  The right man's out there for you somewhere though - you just have to believe.'

As Grace placed a bowl of ice-cream with a lit candle for me to blow out, I said, 'Well, I don't believe any more and ...' extinguishing the candle with a violent huff, added, 'You wanna hear my birthday wish?  I wish that my heart becomes like stone and I never let another man take me for a ride again.  I'm done with love!'

I hope you enjoyed the taster - and remember, you can pre-order NOW!  Also in paperback at Lulu.

Alfie has his copy!

 

One-liners

I was watching Sky News this morning -  in between feeding cats, searching for the teen's hair gel and kicking said teen out of the door to work - and the delightfully tasty Martin Kemp was being interviewed about his new film 'Age of Kill'.  I didn't listen to a great deal of what he said because he really is rather easy on the eye - ask my 88 year old mother, she was swooning over him yesterday - but I did hear him say that it's great to be able to sum up the plot for a film in one line.

So that's exactly what I thought I'd do with my books.  If you've read any of them, let me know if you agree with the summaries below and, if you haven't, maybe these might just be the tasters you need:

'DIARY OF A MUMMY MISFIT'

One mum's journey as she tries to find her place at the prep-school gates.

'THE DARKER SIDE OF MUMMY MISFIT'

She's got it all now but how long can it last and does it bring fulfillment?

'COMPLETING THE PUZZLE'

It's never too late to find that missing piece of happiness.

'STILETTOS & STUBBLE'

Enter a world of glitz and glamour and learn 'It's what's inside that counts'.

'LOTTIE'S LUCK'

You might think your life is heading in the right
direction, but what happens when fate has its own ideas?

'TABBY & KAT'

Watch out!  There's a cuckoo in the nest and she's trouble.

  

'THE ALL OR NOTHING GIRL'

Poor little rich girl loses everything
- but gains so much more.

'LIFE AFTER SETH'

When being jilted is the best thing that can happen to a girl.

'RECIPE FOR CHANGE' - available to pre-order 10th June for download on 17th.

Take one reality cookery show, mix in five contestants and leave to simmer.

THE CHRISTMAS NOVELLAS:

'CHRISTMAS DELIVERANCE'

A family gather for the festive season and unwrap their secrets.

'CINDERELLA'S BUTTONS'

A pantomime shakes up a sleepy village as it waves its magic wand over it.

So, there you go - short, sharp snapshots of each of my books.  

Don't forget that you can pre-order 'Recipe for Change' from next Wednesday 10th June and all of my books are also available in paperback at Lulu.

LIFE AFTER SETH - and a FREEBIE or TWO!

My next (EIGHTH!) full length novel is due for release on 10th December and will be available for pre-order from 1st December - that means, if you order 'LIFE AFTER SETH' on Amazon at the beginning of December it will be 'auto-magically' delivered to your Kindle the minute it goes 'live' on the 10th.  And hopefully shoot me to #1 in the charts.  Hey, a girl can dream can't she?!

So today I'm feeling a little Christmas joy and want to wave my wand of happiness in a shimmy-shaky fashion.  Not only am I going to give you a cover reveal, the blurb AND the first chapter of 'LIFE AFTER SETH'  but I'm also doing FIVE DAYS - yes, you heard me correctly - FIVE DAYS of both of my Christmas novellas for FREE!!!!

From Wednesday 26th November right up until the end of Sunday 30th November, you can grab both of my novellas for absolutely NOTHING on Amazon.  How good is that?  Let's call it my little Christmas present to you.

And, furthermore, if you're on Twitter and you Re-Tweet my #free posts or this blog, you can go in the MAGNIFICENT MISFIT MAGICAL MACHINE.

Now, this isn't ANY old machine. If you enter this stupendous place of wonder and get picked as a winner - you know, like on The X-Factor or Strictly Come Dancing? - you get to pick any of my books to be delivered to your Kindle for your delight and delectation!  For no pennies whatsoever!

See?  I really am feeling the Festive Funk right now.  What have you got to lose?  Get your fingers poised, your RT button going and tell all your friends that there are FREEBIES on offer.  And if you leave me a review, I'll love you even more.

OK.  Ready for the cover reveal, the blurb and the first chapter?  Grab a drink and a packet of biscuits and prepare to meet 'LIFE AFTER SETH'.

THE BLURB

Picture this …

A summer wedding booked in a beautiful English village surrounded by rolling hills and stunning countryside.

The guests are waiting, the bride is blushing and

the groom is … where?

Left to muddle through in a ramshackle cottage with half-naked builders, a selfish mother, a New Age sister who’s away with the fairies and a hormonal teenage nephew, Lizzie sees her world spiral into farce.

It may seem like a romcom that cinema goers giggle over as they chomp on their popcorn, but this is no laughing matter for Lizzie - it’s her life.

With Seth gone, there’s no shortage of men should she ever choose to love again.  But which one would she consider letting into her broken heart?

And will she find the happy ever after she’s

always dreamed of?

LIFE AFTER SETH …

when being jilted is the best thing that can happen to a girl.

*   *   *   *   *

 

 

Chapter One

You know those daft dinner party games where the guests ask probing questions to find out more about one another?  The ones that start as a bit of fun and then end up turning into a full blown domestic between the loved-up couple at the end of the table or an epiphany for the closet gay who realises he really does want to sleep with the guy sitting to his left?  Those games.

Well, the next time I find myself at one of those ‘all jolly good, light hearted fun’ affairs and I’m asked the question ‘What was the worst day of your life?’, I can guarantee that no one will be able to top my answer and I’ll have the assembled guests in stunned - possibly embarrassed - silence.

Oh yeah, as bad days go, by anyone’s standards, it was a humdinger.

Of course it was meant to be the happiest day of my life but as I woke and stretched in the sunlight, cocooned in the cosiness of my childhood bed, I could never have imagined what the following few hours - indeed months - would bring.

If I’d had any idea, I would probably have rolled over and gone back to the dream that involved Daniel Craig and, intriguingly, a rather large jar of Nutella.

But no, silly old me jumped out of bed filled with thrilling anticipation, threw on my dressing gown, lovingly stroked my lace gown hanging on the wardrobe and then headed down to breakfast en famille.

Any normal family might have had Buck’s Fizz on ice and the tempting smell of a cooked breakfast floating on the air to greet the blushing bride-to-be, but not mine.

My father was nowhere to be seen and my mother was on the phone to best friend Glynis moaning about the lack of husband presence.   My sister was saluting the sun in the garden as she chanted and wailed in some sort of Tai Chi pose, and my nephew was sporting a tie-dye sarong while strumming a depressing tune on his guitar in the corner of the kitchen.

Rather than being showered with love or greeted with bubbling excitement, my arrival was ignored until my nephew decided to turn his attention to me with a lazy, ‘Yo, Auntie Lizzie.  Cool day, huh?’

‘Morning, Zeus.’ (I always cringed every time I said his name, but when your sister’s a happy-clappy hippie, what can you expect?)  ‘No, it’s not a cool day, it’s a pretty hot one actually but when you’re sixteen, without a care in the world, I guess every day is cool.’

Zeus shook his rasta dreadlocks - a little odd in ginger - and put down his guitar.  ‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Auntie Lizzie.  My head’s filled with worries, man.  Global warming.  Pollution.  The state of Palestine.  The banality of ‘X-Factor’.  It’s all going on in here, every minute of the day.’  He tapped his head and looked as if he had to sort the world of its problems before a bowl of muesli had passed his lips.

‘Yeah, well thanks for that Zeus but today’s my wedding day so I’d rather we stuck to light-hearted chat and left the major humanitarian issues until tomorrow if that’s OK with you.’

He stood and stretched, reaching for his pouch of tobacco.  ‘Pftt!  Marriage.  Society’s way of constraining the weak-minded and dictating who you share your bed with.  Not for me, dude.  My heart and spirit are too free to be shackled.’

His comments were best ignored.  It was like talking to a testosterone fuelled version of my sister Alice as he churned out the lines she’d been feeding him since birth, and it could only turn into a mega debate or heated argument.  I figured an offer of a bacon sandwich might lighten the mood a little - all teenage boys lived for their stomachs, didn’t they?

‘Gross!’  He looked ready to vomit.  ‘Pig!  Bacon is pig, Lizzie.  Packed with chemicals and crap.  How could you?’

‘And the foul smelling tobacco that you constantly puff on is packed with vitamins and minerals, is it?’ I countered back as I busied myself at the stove. 

His attempt at any wisecrack response was thwarted by the appearance of Alice, bangles jangling and ankle bells chiming.  ‘Good Morning, my little Lotus Blossoms!  What a glorious new day Mama Nature has bestowed upon us!  My chakras are flowing and my yin yang beautifully balanced.  A little shot of wheat-grass should see me ready to face the challenges destined for me.’

‘And a happy wedding day to you, darling sister of mine,’ I mumbled childishly under my breath before biting defiantly into my swine sandwich.

‘What are you grumbling about, Lizzie?  If you will insist on filling your body with dead animals, you can only expect your mood to be foul.  Get out of the wrong side of the bed, did you?  I told you that you should have slept in the tepee in the garden with me.’

My breakfast began to turn to sawdust in my mouth.  By pointing out that I was eating a little pink corpse, my sister had totally ruined my pleasure.

‘Most siblings would greet one another with a hug and some kind words on such a momentous day,’ I said.  ‘Most sisters would be over the moon and rushing about the house in a whirl of curling tongs and make up.  Most parents would be on hand to calm any nerves or pour drinks.  And what do I get?  An AWOL father, a whinging mother and a mini bloody Glastonbury in the back garden.  Let’s all have a joint and henna my hands shall we?’

‘Cool!’  Zeus was unable to do sarcasm.

Unlike his mother, who looked at me as if I’d eaten her last lentil burger as she turned on her Birkenstocks with an ‘Oh that’s just great!  Now my energies have been tinged with your toxic seepage and I’m going to have to cleanse myself all over again.  Thanks for that, Lizzie!  Just thanks!’

Sisterly love!  The Nolans we most definitely weren’t.

As I chucked the remainder of my now unappealing breakfast in the bin I was reminded that my mother shared the same selfish trait as my sister.  Slamming the phone down, she huffed and puffed and then made her way towards me from the hallway.

‘Make me a coffee, Angel.  And throw a good slug of brandy in there.  Today is not going well.’

Flicking the switch on the kettle, I began idly humming ‘Going to the Chapel’ in my best Bette Midler warble.  If no one else could be happy for me, I’d have my own little celebration.

Because in less than four hours time, I’d be walking down the aisle to the gorgeous Seth - and I couldn’t believe my luck.

I was marrying the man of my dreams and escaping the confines of the Addams family.

Bring it on!

*****

Growing up in the Addams household - yes, that really is our surname - was … how can I say? ... reasonably OK, would be the best way to sum it up.

Dad worked hard as a bank manager, Mum was involved with the Women’s Institute and charity work, and Alice in those days was just your average sister - annoying occasionally but mainly bearable.

Three years my senior, she never let me forget it.  Whether it was to boss me around, lecture me, protect me or look down her nose at my immaturity, I was never allowed to lose sight of the fact that she was the big sister.

Now of course, she’s ageless.  Children of the Universe don’t have a number to determine how many years they’ve been on this planet.  Every day is a ‘birth-day’ in Alice’s Wonderland and she’s been reborn, regressed or found herself so many times I’m surprised she recognises the person she looks at in the mirror - which incidentally isn’t very often because her face is merely ‘a hindrance’.  It’s the soul that counts.

A fairly run of the mill teenager until she hit sixteen, Alice fell for a boy during a fruit picking job in the summer holidays that determined she would never return to school.  Our village of Upper Moreton was conveniently situated for seasonal work and we were never short of odd jobs or ways to earn extra cash.  She could have worked in the local dress hire shop or in the coffee bar which served delicious pastries and scones.  But I guess her latent hippie was lurking somewhere even back then - the freedom of the fields and the sun on her back called and she strawberry picked with a song in her heart and a spring in her Jesus-sandal clad feet.

When the summer came to an end, she packed her rucksack and headed off to Greece with her first love, Reece.  At the time she’d believed he was for life.  She’d even had Mum and Dad convinced, so that they’d let her go with their blessing.  It didn’t last though and I think her current notch on the headboard (or tent pole) is around the three hundred mark.  Love is free, apparently, and she’s always shared as much of hers as possible.

So I became, to all intents and purposes, an only child.  At thirteen years of age, that had been thrilling and lonely in equal measures.  I didn’t have her moaning at me or sparking up arguments but I missed the company and the odd times that I did need her.  She had her uses and I found myself with no one to ask those all important questions.

‘Is this boob bigger than the other one?’

‘If Peter pulls my ponytail does it mean he likes me?’

‘Is this zit really noticeable?’

Of course her answers were never very tactful but at least I had somebody.  I couldn’t possibly ask my mum stuff like that.  She’d just twitter and bristle and then tell me to get the Delia book out and go and bake some nice shortbread.

How relieved was I when I returned to the autumn term at school to find that we had a new girl in our class - Nadia - and we instantly hit it off.  She had a brother, Ralph, but she longed for a sister, a confidante, a partner in crime.  From the first day we met we became inseparable, sharing our secrets, our worries, our dreams and our bedrooms.

Most weekends would see us sleeping at one or the other’s house and, for some reason, I always preferred it when I was invited to stay at hers.  Her mum and dad were a lovely couple and they were always laughing - a really happy family.  Ralph was fifteen, and quite good looking, and for a long while I had a bit of a secret crush on him.  To him though I was just his little sister’s friend, so it wouldn’t have been the done thing for him to see me in a romantic way but I bumped into him in London one day a few years later and he joked that the ugly duckling had turned into a bit of a swan.  Cheeky sod!

Now it’s not that my family were unhappy, it’s just that Dad was always wrapped up in the stress of work and Mum was just too busy being … Mum.  Everything had to revolve around her and Alice and I had grown up knowing what this meant.  So, if a colleague from the WI was diagnosed with a serious illness, all we’d hear about would be how it would increase my mother’s workload.  If someone wanted to tell her all about their Mediterranean cruise, she’d rush to the photo albums and talk about her own trip.  If I had a spot, she had a wrinkle and I’d be told, ‘Think yourself lucky you’ve still got youth on your side!’

So, time spent with Nadia was precious.  We played hard but worked harder - attending every party and always making sure we were up bright and early ready for homework or revision.  We both dreamed of becoming teachers and were determined that nothing would come in the way of that.  No boys or hangovers were worth it, although we had a few of both - we were only human.

Eventually we left Uni with a couple of degrees between us and placements in two local schools doing the jobs we’d worked so hard to get.  I’d opted to teach the younger age range with all its wide eyed innocence but she’d longed for the challenge of the back chat and gobby smart talk of a secondary school environment.

It was time to start looking for those dream men we’d envisaged as we lay in the darkness of our bedrooms, planning how our adult lives would pan out.

Four failed relationships later, Seth walked into my life …

*   *   *   *   *

I hope you enjoyed this sneak preview - If so, remember to pre-order from 1st December.

And don't forget to grab my Christmas novellas for FREE for five days from tomorrow.

PUBLICATION DAY - 'The All or Nothing Girl'

It's an exciting day in the Misfit household - my SEVENTH full length novel has just hit the shelves and I can't quite believe the journey that I've been on as an Indie.

It's been a hard slog but one that I wouldn't change for the world.  The 5* reviews for my books far outweigh the occasional 1* review - and the latter are usually from people who have grabbed a freebie when it's not their usual genre anyway.  Yes, I've learned a lot - not least, to roll with the punches.

MASSIVE thanks to all my merry gang who have supported me along the way.  The majority of those, I had no idea existed until I started on this writing lark.  Social networking is a remarkable thing and I've met, not only online but in real life, some of the nicest people over the last three years.

One of those sharing my weekend of celebrations is the lovely @AuroraTherapy. We met on Twitter three years ago and instantly hit it off.  How much can two women have in common?  Alternative health, reading, humour, drag, gay men, Barry Manilow, parties, dressing up, old musicals, cheesecake, Marmite, dancing, wine and party planning.  We were a match made in heaven!  So tonight we'll be sharing a fondue, a bottle of vino, a cheesecake and no doubt listening to 'The Rocky Horror Show' followed by a sprinkle of the old Bazzer Mazzer!

On Friday I'll be celebrating with 'Fenella' and Co as usual - it seems only right.  It's where it all began.

So as I set another of my babies on its way, I cross my fingers that it will be well received and that the writing fairies continue to visit me for my December release.

Off to the dreaded dentist now before I start raising a glass or two - oh the glamour of a writer.

If you should like to grab a copy of 'The All or Nothing Girl' why not do it while I'm being tortured in the chair and I'll try a wonky smile when I get home and see my sales reports.  I may even dribble.

Here's the cover:

And the blurb:

What happens when your comfortable life
is suddenly denied you?
When the Chanel make up’s dried up,
the designer gear’s been flogged on eBay
and the Persian rug has been well and truly
pulled out from under you?

Meet Francesca Milton-Harris

as she realises that one ‘little mistake’
is going to change her life in ways she
could never have imagined. 

THE ALL OR NOTHING GIRL …

because sometimes you have to lose it all
to see how much more you can gain.

NEW RELEASE - 'The All or Nothing Girl'

A date for your diaries, faithful readers ... THURSDAY 26th JUNE sees the release of my latest novel - 'THE ALL OR NOTHING GIRL'.

Here's my delicious new cover - what do you think?

And here's the blurb:

What happens when your comfortable life
is suddenly denied you?
When the Chanel make up’s dried up,
the designer gear’s been flogged on eBay
and the Persian rug has been well and truly
pulled out from under you?

Meet Francesca Milton-Harris

as she realises that one ‘little mistake’
is going to change her life in ways she
could never have imagined. 

THE ALL OR NOTHING GIRL …

because sometimes you have to lose it all
to see how much more you can gain.

 * * * * *

Want a little taster? 

 

Chapter One

My name is Francesca and I am a recovering spoilt brat.

Hah!  And of course I’m well aware that makes me sound as if I’m at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting where instead of owning up to a booze problem, I’m admitting to being a filthy rich little madam without a care in the world but I don’t care.  See, the nasty side of me still pops up on the odd occasion.

But, I have to say,  as I stood waiting for the lift at my local hospital, with barely a penny to my name and a bellyful of arms and legs waiting to rip me asunder, I couldn’t have felt less like the privileged little diva I’d spent the best part of twenty-eight years perfecting.

I was alone, truly alone.  Well, that was if you didn’t count the embryo I’d been incubating (read: living off me like a greedy little non rent-paying parasite) for the past nine months.  The free-loading human I was about to meet, with absolutely no idea about what that entailed.

I remembered thinking, ‘Shit, this is it!  Me and a baby!  In a National Health hospital, of all places!  Who’d have thought it?’  But as the pains built in their intensity, I breathed a little deeper and prayed that the lift would arrive swiftly and deliver me to the comfort of the maternity ward - albeit one where poor people squeezed out their ugly babies.

Francesca Milton-Harris giving birth in an NHS hospital?  Not while I’ve got breath in me and they’re still serving cocktails at the Ritz - as my deceased mother used to say.

Yeah, and a fat lot of good that mantra did her too.

As I waited and jiggled (I’m never quite sure why I do it but it seems to work for all nervy situations - and for your information, it’s a kind of hop from one foot to the other with a little bouncy head sway thrown in for good measure) I saw (actually smelt first) the most stunningly attractive man I’d seen in months. No surprises there, considering where I’d been forced to live.  You don’t get many Armani models or multi millionaires wandering around my run down council estate in Shepherd’s Bush - but more of that later.  Anyway, he looked at his watch (expensive, I instantly noted) and then joined me in my wait for the lift.  He was my type of man - he oozed money, opulence and the finer things in life.  He would have been my ideal date, pre my baby-growing months and being relegated to the mould-ridden flat where I’d been forced to take up residence.

And there was I, with hair that hadn’t seen a stylist in months and a midriff the size of Vesuvius.  I won’t go into details about the stirrings in my nether regions but sadly they had nothing to do with the sight of this yummy man.  Talk about wrong time, wrong place.

I had no idea that things could only get worse …

  

*****

The lift doors finally opened and Rich Guy smiled and stood back, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.  Hmm, a gentleman too, I thought as the pains subsided for long enough for me to appreciate his chivalry.

Once inside, he turned to me and smiled.  ‘I take it you’re going to the same floor as me.  Maternity?’

I nodded, suddenly feeling shy - most unlike me - and I instantly made a mental note to pull myself together.  Francesca Milton-Harris didn’t do cowering wallflower or helpless little lady.  Or rather the ‘Franny M-H’ of old didn’t - that one had balls and knew how to use them, so to speak.

But where had those balls gone?  Had they packed their Louis Vuitton cases - oh, how I missed my designer luggage - and hotfooted it out of town?

No, I wouldn’t have it.  I might have been on my uppers but that was through no fault of my own and if I could still entertain the idea of flirting with a tasty looking chappy whilst in the throes of labour, I could convince myself I still had my allure.  Sex appeal didn’t rely on cash or fancy labels, did it?  Although, thinking about it, I’d be hard pushed to list any of my revolting neighbours with an ounce of charisma or even one that I might consider romantically if he were the last man on earth.  Maybe money did make you sexy.

As I leaned back against the rail around the lift, I could see that it wasn’t just money that made Rich Guy so enticing.  Oh yes, he had all the right gear - beautifully cut suit, handmade shoes and the subtle odour of wealth - but there was a whole lot more going on.  He had the hair, the cheekbones and the complexion of someone who worked hard and played hard - the sort of look that came from a combination of various therapies and a good healthy dose of sun and sea.  As I said before, in another life, I knew his type.

I could almost hear my best friend Tiggy having a jolly good giggle at me and saying, ‘Atta girl, Frannypoops!  Still checking out what’s on offer even though your lady bits are well and truly closed for business.  You poor, past-your-sell-by-date little fatty.’

Yes, the pregnancy and my change in living conditions hadn’t gone down too well with Tiggy and whenever I’d been looking for sympathy or a shoulder to cry on, she hadn’t been my first port of call.

Would I have been the same if the situation had been reversed?  In all honesty, probably, yes.  It’s what we were, what we were made of - and that wasn’t sugar and spice and all things nice.  Oh no, not by any means.

Thrown together at boarding school, we’d lived the lives of those with little parental love - although we were compensated by being showered with everything that money could buy.  We asked for it, we got it - and boy, did we ask.  The only difference now was that Tiggy continued to demand, and indeed receive, yet I’d been totally cut off.

Well, that and the fact that I was about to become a single parent living in a one bed flat on the kind of estate I’d only ever seen in documentaries on the 52 inch plasma flat screen which used to pop seamlessly out from the foot of my queen sized bed.

Yep, things had certainly changed.

Rich Guy looked at me and smiled again.  I smiled back - nobody could rob me of the twenty-five grand’s worth of dental work I’d had done over the years, so I made the most of it.  Men had told me I had a smile that could light up a room, so I could surely add a sparkle to the six foot square metal box we were currently sharing - even if I was heavy with child.

‘Baby due soon?’ he asked.

I nodded.  ‘Any minute now actually,’ I told him as another contraction reached monstrous proportions.  My smile may have turned into a grimace but I was sure it still displayed my snow white veneers to their best advantage.

‘Better get you to the safety of the ward quickly then, hadn’t we?’ he comforted at the exact moment that the lights flickered off and then back on and the lift ground to a halt with a shuddering thud.

 

*****

Not ideal, huh?  Certainly not for a pathetic specimen who needed a double whisky before her twice monthly bikini wax and had written ‘Knock me out’ on her birth plan.

I wasn’t sure if I was grateful for the fact that the lights had flashed back on or not.  If Rich Guy was about to find himself delivering my sprog, did I really want him seeing my untrimmed lady garden?  (Hair removal had been one of the first luxuries to bite the dust and I’d learned very quickly that those areas were too delicate to attack with a blunt Bic - let’s not go there.)  Oh my!  Tiggy would lunch out on this debacle for months.

‘Damn!’ my travelling companion uttered.  Then he turned to me and added, ‘Don’t panic.  We’ll be fine.  All we need to do is press the alarm and they’ll have us out in a flash.’

By this time I’d slipped to the floor and was panting and sweating quite a bit - Mummy would have insisted that I was doing no such thing as ladies merely ‘lightly glowed’, but trust me on this, it was pouring off me.

I’d suddenly become aware that I was sitting in a rather larger puddle than I could possibly have perspired and I stupidly wondered if I’d peed myself - C minus for failing to attend any ante-natal classes or making it past the ‘Conception’ chapter in my ‘What You Need to Know About Having a Baby’ book.

Rich Guy’s voice seemed to be floating in and out of my consciousness like a badly tuned radio.  It was most disconcerting and I tried desperately to make myself concentrate on what he was saying.  From my prone position on the floor, I became aware that he was talking into the speaker on the wall of the lift and frantically running his hand through his previously immaculate hair.

‘Yes!’  His Gucci feathers were well and truly ruffled by now.  ‘In lift A and we’re stuck - a lady here about to give birth.  We need help and quickly!’

‘Agggggh!’  The sound was primal and terrifying and I was amazed to discover that it had come from me.  Who’d have thought I could make such a vulgar and earthy noise?  Oooh, but it helped.  It helped quite a lot, actually, so I did another one for good measure.  ‘Agggghhh!’

Rich Guy jumped and I could see that he was now whispering into the speaker.  I strained my ears to listen but it was fruitless so I went for another guttural moan.

‘I really think the baby might be coming NOW!’ I heard him say.  Gosh, he was tuned in.  Perhaps he was a doctor, maybe even a top notch private one, and I’d be OK after all.

‘No.  No experience whatsoever, I’m afraid,’ he said, continuing his conversation with the wall.  ‘I’m a business consultant - you don’t get to witness too many births in my profession.’

Well, that was just great - not a doctor after all and I was well and truly stuffed.  Images of a cosy private ward at the exclusive Portland hospital floated through my mind as I felt an overwhelming need to start pushing.  Would my child’s future be determined by its undignified entry into this world?  If that were the case, he was doomed and he’d have an ASBO before nursery and be doing his first stint in a youth offenders’ prison before his Eleven Plus.

‘Unnnnggggh.’  My vocal repertoire had taken on a whole new tone and I was mortified to discover that I was actually removing my underwear - La Perla, of course, but sadly last season and a little past their best.  OK, so I hadn’t done the classes or prepped myself about what would happen to my body when the little shi… darling … made its appearance but thankfully my body seemed to have taken over and knew what it should be doing all by itself.

Which was just as well, as I shortly found myself with a furry little head poking its way out of my frou-frou.  Oh yes, my body knew what it was doing alright!

‘No.  I don’t think she’s got anything with her.’  I could still hear him talking to whoever was at the other end of the stupid speaker and clearly being of no help to us whatsoever.

‘Do you have a bag with you?’  He was in my face now and the sight of his calming eyes flanked by sweeping lashes took my mind off the pain for long enough for me to take a normal breath.

‘A bag?’  What did he mean?  A Chanel?  A Birken?  No - I’d flogged off all but one of mine long ago on eBay - how was a girl meant to live?

‘Your overnight holdall.  You know?  Nappies, a blanket, clothes.’ 

Ah!  No.  I didn’t.  And I must admit I felt pretty stupid but, as another gut-wrenching pain tore through me, I simply shook my head and emitted another farmyard noise.

‘The head’s right out now.’  He was back speaking to the useless person in the wall again.  ‘I can see it quite clearly … OK … yes … I’ll take my jacket off and get it ready for … oh shit … I can see shoulders now … really quite broad ones …’

‘BOLLLLLLOCCCCKKKKS’  Yep, those shoulders were pretty broad!  I huffed, puffed, panted and wondered if I’d ever walk again after the pain I’d just experienced.

But there was that beautiful face again - right in mine - and I could smell luxury and toothpaste.  I could trust that face - and let’s consider the facts here, I had no choice.

‘Listen to me,’ the face said.  ‘They say you’re doing really well.  We can do this.  OK?  Apparently, the shoulders are the worst bit.  A couple more big, big breaths and I think we’re there.’

We?  Where did this ‘we’ business keep coming from?  I didn’t see him writhing in agony and hyperventilating.

‘It’s pretty ouchy,’ I told him pathetically, and those delicious eyes crinkled and smiled into my own.

‘You’re being so brave … sorry, I don’t even know your name!  But I’m going to call you Ms. Plucky.  Come on - push that little plucker out!’

I would have laughed but I’d found that I needed every last ounce of energy for one final humongous grunt.

‘Oh, wow!’  Rich Guy was sitting on the floor between my legs, with a bucket load of guts and gore on his approximately two grand jacket and a screaming new baby blinking up at him.

I couldn’t ever remember seeing a man looking quite so happy in the whole of my life.

SO that's THURSDAY 26th JUNE - at Amazon for Kindle and in paperback at Lulu.