By Elizabeth Young
From the fire-hot writer of requesting hassle comes a moment irresistibly humorous and romantic novel, within which we meet the delightfully depraved Harriet and John, who're matched as completely as scones and clotted cream -- if merely Harriet may permit herself indulge. as much as her eyeballs in her acquaintances' dramas, Harriet gray has no time for her personal, not to mention getting entangled with John Mackenzie. And notwithstanding it has been a while because she's met some of the most beautiful males London has to supply, it kind of feels John's entangled with another person. Or is he? even though they are saying all's reasonable in love, Harriet is not approximately to complicate her existence -- or threat her middle. however the chronic John turns out to pop up far and wide she turns, and shortly she's agreeing to fulfill him for a cocktail to pay off a prefer. finally, what damage can pop out of 1 blameless little drink? perhaps a couple of breathtaking kisses, a few suspiciously lingering embraces, and an excellent weak-kneed dizziness that almost all certainly isn't the flu. and that is sooner than she reveals herself on their lonesome with John at Christmas. .
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Extra info for A Promising Man (and About Time, Too)
Yes, that's what I thought. Bit over-the-top, isn't it? " Maybe Gambia wasn't a bad idea, after all. "Since when? " "Since right after he dumped her. I mean, what's the use now? " Forget Gambiamaybe a cheapie to Ulan Bator? "It's costing a bomb, but she said she had to know," Rosie went on. " "They'll see him. Some furtive bloke in a grubby raincoat" "Oh, come on! He's a pro! Mega-zoom paparazzi lenses, you name it. " They most certainly would. "She's got a fair idea who it is, you know," she went on.
Barely twelve hours after their little twosome (once in the sand, once in the sea) he'd carried on to Singapore and the wife he'd somehow forgotten to tell her about. " Catatonic shock had ensued. " Going back to Muscat had been out of the question, as expat single mothers in Muslim countries can be a mite embarrassing to the institution that arranged their visas. After spinning them some line about "family problems," she'd stayed with me from then on. Nobody in Muscat even knew about the baby, let alone who the father was.
Comfortably off by his own standards, he'd recently retired and was about to go abroad to indulge a long-cherished dream. The prospect of sorting out mountains of junk and putting the house on the market had filled him with the sort of helpless dismay that had prompted Mum to leave him for no-nonsense, hands-on Bill. When he'd suggested I live in it for now, my first thought had been no way . The house had been so big, so chill, so full of that musty-fusty smell you only get in really old people's houses when they haven't thrown anything away for fifty years.
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