FINDING NEW VOICES
DEFINING NEW GENRES
When two eligible and attractive men are vying for your heart, it should be the perfect dilemma…
Audrey Fox has been dumped by her unreliable fiancé Nick Byrne just days before the wedding. Heartbroken and confused, the last thing she expects when she jumps on a plane to convalesce in Cyprus is romance. But a chance meeting with handsome entrepreneur and father-of-one Daniel Taylor weaves her into a dating game she’s not sure she’s ready for.
Audrey’s life is thrown into further turmoil when she discovers on her return to London that Nick has been involved in a serious motorcycle accident that’s left him in intensive care. Distraught yet determined to look to the future, Audrey must make a decision – follow her heart or listen to well-meaning advice from family and friends? Because sometimes, no matter what, it’s the people that we love who can hurt us the most…
“This is a fabulous novel about love, life, friendship, families – and shoes. It’s a long road home from Heartbreak Hotel, but Audrey’s journey is a fascinating one. Why did Nick call off his wedding to Audrey (named after her mother’s heroine Audrey Hepburn) at the very last minute? Contemporary novelist Kelly Florentia gradually unravels the mysteries of their tangled relationship and the reasoning behind Nick’s bizarre behaviour. Nick says he’s not ready for marriage, but it can’t be just that – can it? After all, he and Audrey have been together for eight years already and he knows how much she’s been looking forward to the big day. What does Audrey’s friend Louise know about Nick? What is Louise not telling?
As for Daniel – he comes into the story nice and early and the reader is encouraged to wonder about him. What game is he playing and why does he seem so keen on Audrey? He sounds rather delicious. But, after her experiences with Nick, will Audrey ever be ready for a new relationship? Does she actually want one – even with a man who knows her shoe size?
The present tense, first person narrative keeps the reader involved with the heroine and totally engaged with her story. There are plenty of cliffhangers which encourage the reader to turn the pages. As always, Kelly is perceptive, funny, forgiving and kind when she’s writing about families and their foibles. Do parents ever stop being parents? Do children ever grow up?
The story is set in London, Cyprus and Paris, and Kelly took me there, making me feel the warmth of the sun on my face as I relaxed in a Greek taverna, the excitement of being in cosmopolitan Paris, and the buzz of London.
This is a five star read.”
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‘A promise of relentless energy, noise, a lot of madness and probably a lot of drugs, which luckily is exactly what Simon Wan delivers. Bar the drugs’ –RANKIN (the photographer)
‘He goes way beyond passion’ –Fearne Cotton, television and radio presenter
‘I said he should write a book, and he did’ –Eva Pope, actress
‘The big boy with the big bike standing over me had heard I couldn’t feel pain because my Dad was from Hong Kong. I had some kind of invincible power. He’d heard that I really liked hanging out with girls, Chinese burns didn’t work on me, pulling my hair was pointless and if you bit me you’d get soy sauce in your mouth. If I was in his shoes, I admit I’d have been curious as well. Whichever way you looked at it I was going to have to play kiss chase later. The cute brunette girl with the orange walkman knew it, the third prettiest netball player knew it, even the dinner ladies knew it. There was going to be a fight.’
Such is the life of our hero as he negotiates the triple threat of trying to becoming a cheese ball superstar, finding his cartoon princess, and bringing her home for a perfect Christmas roast potato. It’s a life tale of comic disasters, sex (lots of weird sex), relationship nightmares and discovering your nakedness in a world full of people wearing the same old clothes. Honest, warm, funny and very hip, this is David Nicholls with the tears, the pain and the naughty bits put brazenly on display for the world to see.
I thought she looked French. She had a certain swish about her that made me feel funny in my guts. The other boys in my class said they wouldn’t go near her because she’s young and won’t know what to do. I wonder what they thought we should be doing at thirteen years old in the 80’s. The options were yo-yo’s, skateboards, neon laces or Police Academy. Or there was the park. The park after school. I got teased by so many of my friends because I’d want to walk home with girls. The boys wanted to talk about football or fight. I hated football and they were always scared that my secret Chinese mixed blood would equal martial arts death if they messed with me so it was boring and they all smelled musty after a day running around chasing balls.
The young man holding her hand had only allowed me one single frame of existence. It must have been a strong grip. A secret grip of a young man who knows he is about to lose something incredible. I had stolen one single frame of existence and that was all I needed. In that one frame I saw the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. It was as if every single cell in her body was beaming. That single frame was a stolen moment. In that moment she told me her whole life story, what she loved, what she hated, who she wanted to be and that she would fall in love with me the instant I found her again. That single stolen frame of existence was all I needed to be one hundred percent certain that this girl would one day be my wife. I had to find her. My life depended on it.
We wandered around the city chewing sunglasses, following smoke trails and hiding our giggles until it was night. Time flies when you’re flying. In a blink we were standing in front of a boarded up carousel in the centre of the city. A loosely tied rope our only barrier into an unknown realm of firetrucks and one seat jumbo jets. We had to get in. The street lights shone just bright enough through the thin tarpaulin. The world outside forgot it existed. Everything glittered. The diamond shaped bulbs that lined every surface were singing to us. We crammed our bums into any seat that could take it and we became rulers of the secret fun fair, the King and Queen of the merry go round. We knew we couldn’t stay forever. Surely, someone would be coming soon to evict us and put end to our acid adventure so we decided to escape. Summoning the courage to leave and saying goodbye to our favourite funny cars we ran out, tarpaulin flapping behind us. We both stopped dead. We were trapped in a beam of light.
I was a heart broken cheesy rave MC who wanted to be an even cheesier pop star. I decided that flying solo for a while could be good. Get my head down, make the connections. Life was more important then girls, kissing and even love. All love did was fuck you up. I became as jaded as my lucky rabbit. I scoffed at couples. I squeezed my sauce at every pretty girl that had chips to offer and I was greedy. My attitude towards life was “Eat Me”. I was Bart Simpson. I was loose mouthed, annoying, a skateboarder and yellow.Read More
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