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Here's a summary and extracts from the books Name & Address Withheld, Lost and Found , Technical Hitch , Like Mother, Like Daughter , Confessions of a Agony Aunt & an exclusive extract from the next novel The Romancipation of Maggie Hunter which will be published this summer.
The Romancipation of Maggie Hunter
Published by Red Dress Ink – North America – July 2007
Summary Romancipation: Extract Maggie was awake. So awake it seemed impossible she had ever been asleep.
Just because you lived together didn’t mean you really had to share everything, just the good stuff. They were definitely going to be using her towels and linens. One
She was thinking about towels? Zero
Move in. Move on. Move in. Move on. Move in. Move on. Despite her best focused staring Max was still asleep. Guerilla tactics required. Coughing, she tugged at the duvet. He murmured and turned over, presenting his back to her and an irrational sob sprung to her throat. Boarding school had a lot for answer for. Thousands of pounds spent a year training Britain’s finest to sleep through dawn, alarm clocks, fire drills, lesson bells and, probably, babies crying. Maggie swallowed hard. They hadn’t even discussed children. Maggie wondered why men didn’t appear to analyse everything so much. Maybe there was limited space for every eventuality on their hard drives after all the sporting statistics, James Bond trivia and memorable quotes from The Office, Blackadder and Star Wars that they seemed to be able to reproduce at a moment’s notice? And yet she appeared to the capacity to question everything. A channel in her brain that she didn’t subscribe to and hardly ever indulged in, but it was always there in the background, posing a constant stream of questions but never providing the answers. The quiz show from hell. And she couldn’t find the mute button. She wished she could sleep. Being overtired definitely wasn’t going to enhance her state of mind. And she had been hoping to wake up in a better mood altogether. Maggie snuggled up against Max and scrunched her eyes closed before breathing deeply in an attempt to relax. She was sure everything would seem much more manageable in daylight. She synchronised her breathing with his, hoping to be lulled to sleep. She was all in favour of progress, except perhaps in the case of nuclear weapons and biological warfare, but why did things have to change? If she moved in to his place she was never going to be able to break wind sub-duvet with the wild abandon of a singleton, never be able to sleep in the star position with her head wedged between two sets of pillows, never be able to dance around the flat and punch the air euphorically after he’d gone home the morning after the night before… A few minutes later, sleep was no closer. Sliding herself to the edge of the mattress she checked her watch. 3.07am. Officially the middle of the night, as opposed to midnight which these days was really just late evening. Gingerly leaving the bed, she slipped on her bathrobe and walking into the kitchen, stood at her sink and stared out of the window into space. ***
Eloise opened her eyes. Something had woken her. She propped herself up on her elbow. Or at least that had been the intention, but either her left arm wasn’t there or some joker had replaced it with a lead one. Either way, the command from her brain to her arm bounced back. Memories of her evening started to return to her. Another job rejection followed by another engagement party. Marriage was the latest epidemic sweeping London and Eloise had never felt so acutely in need of immunity. Declarations of everlasting love shouldn’t have been allowed so close to Christmas – a season which was already nauseatingly coupley. And on the employment front, she hadn’t really wanted to be a receptionist at a film company she just fancied the idea of being Orlando Bloom’s wife. She was sure the evening would have been much more fun if Jake had been able to join her. She’d always suspected that his biggest clients’ Christmas drinks would overrun and he had sent her a text around eleven excusing himself, but she was tiring of being a team of one, of living alone, of having sole rights to the remote, of rarely being woken with a kiss and a cup of tea even though she allegedly had a boyfriend. She and Jake had been seeing each other for as long as Maggie and Max had, technically a little longer, and while their once, sometimes twice and very occasionally thrice weekly get-togethers were always entertaining and often sex-filled, it didn’t really feel as if it was going anywhere fast, or even slowly. Maggie and Max had undertaken them, having found themselves one of those easy partnerships that Eloise aspired to. A merger rather than a takeover. She feared it was time to call Jake for a board, or should that have been bored, meeting. Out of habit, Eloise checked her phone as she regained full consciousness. There had been a time when she and Maggie would have exchanged texts at the end of every evening they hadn’t spent together and several on a Friday night, but her wing woman had flown. When it wasn’t the morose middle of the night, she was delighted for her even if Eloise had always maintained that life would be better curled up in the arms of a lover, with a hand to hold and a life to share and Maggie conversely had always reminded her about the snoring, the early morning halitosis and feeling obliged to make conversation first thing when all you want to do is listen to the radio. Then again Maggie had been an only child. With three older brothers Eloise liked having her thoughts and sentences interrupted and her days hijacked. Seeing Rob at the party had definitely thrown her. It had been so many years now since they’d argued over anything, that at first she’d been delighted he was there. But while she knew he’d been with Helena for a while but she didn’t know they’d got engaged until she’d almost been blinded by the size of her engagement ring. Talk about dangling a carat. The way things stood at the moment, Maggie would be the next to head off into the ark, hand in hand, out of the storm. Meanwhile out on the plains, in the worsening drought, Jake would barely commit to going to the cinema the week after next. She knew she needed to be busier. She still hadn’t found her purpose in life. Thirty two years on the planet and her CV was more of a See Me. She’d thrived much better at school, when her days had been structured and someone had been there to make sure she was advancing in the right direction. Eloise yawned as she picked at a cold piece of Naan and used her finger nail to check between her teeth for stray leaves of sag before pawing at her face, tacky with the remnants of her make-up. Time to hit the bathroom, then again if she was going to have a hangover she might as well look the part too. It was much harder to feel sorry for yourself when your breath was minty and your skin was cleansed, toned and moisturised. Stiffly she got to her feet and carried her tray of congealing leftovers to the kitchen. Jake or no Jake, there hadn’t been one quality single man at the party. As she tipped the foil cartons into the kitchen bin she watched the remains of the orange Tikka Masala sauce slip through the gaps between the rubbish. She didn’t want to be the cliché thirty-something woman that men were warned about, but if she and Jake weren’t going anywhere together she really needed to be brave and branch out on her own before her eggs and her enthusiasm passed their sell by date. Ten years ago she’d probably have felt as if she’d bagged the man of her dreams. But in her early twenties she still hadn’t realised that men don’t change. They might get a bit tidier and learn to cook more than one dish but they don’t switch from lager to bitter, from Coke to Pepsi, from non-callers to callers, from tending to be apathetic to being inspirational. It was all about timing. Max was as affable now as he had been at university, despite his success. Over the years Maggie had metamorphosed into a better looking, well-dressed, more confident version of herself. Eloise couldn’t believe they’d re-met at a wedding of all places. Everyone knows you’re more likely to win the Nobel Prize than fancy the single man they sit you next to at a wedding reception. To
buy a copy of The Romancipation of Maggie Hunter: Read an extract from Name And Address Withheld |
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