A Step In Time

My new book, A Step In Time, is released on Monday. I really hope you like Amy Lavender and her unlikely friend, Cora (If you do, you can buy their story right here). And to whet your appetites, here’s a snippet from the very beginning of the book…

mistakes

Afterwards I realised I was far, far drunker than I thought I was and that’s probably why it all went so badly wrong. But at the time, I thought it was a great idea. Matty, my boyfriend, was out at the opening of a new club and I wanted to see him. So I left the hotel where I was oohing and ahhhing over a fancy brand of hairbrush, jumped in a cab and headed to the West End to catch up with my man.

I posed for the photographers outside the club, giving them a beaming smile and a cheeky look over my shoulder, so they captured the back of my mini dress, and then I trip-trapped down the stairs in my super-high heels to find Matty.

At first, I couldn’t see him. It was dark in the club and the flashing lights on the dance floor meant I took a while to get my bearings. But then I spotted his best mate TJ, chatting to a girl I didn’t recognise, and Matty’s broad back in a tight white t-shirt, his head turned away from me, his tongue firmly stuck down another woman’s throat and his hands all over her bum.

People talk about a red mist descending, don’t they? I never knew what they meant until that moment. All I could think about was that some two-bit reality TV starlet was snogging my boyfriend. The man I loved. The man I intended to marry – just as soon as we agreed terms with Yay! magazine for the engagement photo shoot that would cover the cost of the huge rock I had my eye on.

Shrieking with rage, I launched myself at the girl. I took a fistful of her hair extensions in my fist and pulled her face away from Matty’s.

“Get your lips off my man!” I screamed. And then – and believe me, I’m not proud of this – I pulled my arm back and punched her. Right in the nose. I honestly didn’t know there would be so much blood.

Everything stopped. I couldn’t even hear the music any more. It was like the whole room was suddenly in slow motion.

“AAAAAMMMMMYYY!” Matty was yelling. “Whaaaat have you dooooonnnne?” He had blood all over his white t-shirt.

The girl he’d been kissing was squealing as TJ shoved napkins at her, and out of the corner of my eye I could see other clubbers filming the whole sorry escapade on their phones.

Sounds bad, doesn’t it? Really bad. But that’s not even all of it.

Realising I’d gone too far, I turned to leave. But like I said, I’d had quite a lot to drink at that hairbrush launch (honestly, it’s the only way to get through things like that – the free booze) and I was wearing really high heels.

As I spun round, my foot caught on the edge of the dance floor and suddenly I was face down in a puddle of pina colada with my super-short dress up round my hips and my Hello Kitty knickers on display.

Lying there, my cheek stinging from the pineapple juice, I watched two men compare photos on their phones’ screens and high five each other. And then firm hands lifted me up.

“Out!” said one of the two bouncers who were either side of me. They were both twice as tall as me and seemingly three times as wide. They’d lifted me so high that my feet weren’t even touching the floor.

“Don’t worry, I’m going,” I muttered to the bouncer on my left. “I just feel a bit…”

And then I puked. All over his trousers.

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