Sisters, Jane and Mags Hollinger couldn’t be more different. Jane is reserved while Mags speaks before she thinks. Jane teaches family history evening classes while Mags is a journalist on a fashion magazine. Jane is divorced and quite happy to continue living a quiet life while Mags is single and goes to fashion shoots and gets to interview sexy actors.
But under the brash exterior, Mags loves her sister and wants to see Jane happy again. So, she and best friend Carol, buy Jane a subscription to a dating website. But, on discovering that the man of her dreams – actor Robert Armstrong – is one of her students, Jane not surprisingly abandons the dating website.
Reluctantly, Jane does her best to keep her friendship with Robert a secret from Mags knowing her mega mouth sister would blab to all and sundry. Jane dreads her sister ever finding out because Mags knows that Jane has a serious crush on Robert and Jane knows she’ll never hear the end of it.
When Mags does find out about Jane and Robert, she’s furious, hurt and madly jealous. Wisely, Jane allows her sister to vent her anger and once Mags has calmed down, she proves invaluable to Jane. Mags protects and supports Jane when she needs it most and even moves in with her sister to help pay the mortgage. But Mags will always be Mags and Jane knows that sharing a house with her will never be dull!
Jane Hollinger is divorced and the wrong side of thirty – as she puts it. Her friends are pressuring her to dive back into London’s dating pool, but she’s content with her quiet life teaching family history evening classes.
Robert Armstrong is every woman’s fantasy: handsome, charming, rich and famous. When he asks her to meet him, she convinces herself it’s because he needs her help with a mystery in his family tree. Soon she realises he’s interested in more than her genealogy expertise. Now the paparazzi want a piece of Jane too.
Can Jane handle living — and loving — in the spotlight?
Read An Excerpt From Chapter Eight…
When Mags arrived that evening, she went silently into the house past Jane and straight to the living room.
“Coffee or wine?” Jane called, closing the front door.
“Won’t be a sec,” she said, retrieved the bottle and two glasses from the kitchen, brought them into the living room and Mags watched her as she poured.
“Thank you.” Mags picked up a glass from the coffee table and Jane took a deep breath and broached the subject.
“I’m sorry. What more can I say? I can hardly believe it myself.”
“I bet. Mind if I smoke?” Mags lifted a packet of cigarettes out of her handbag.
“I do, actually,” Jane replied bravely and Mags swore under her breath and put the cigarettes back in her bag. “Go into the back garden if you have to smoke.”
“I’m not a bloody dog!”
“Right, come on – shout and swear at me – let’s get it over and done with,” she said, standing back and folding her arms.
Instead, Mags just shrugged. “Robert Armstrong, eh? You always like to think that you’re in with a chance, don’t you? It doesn’t do much for your self-esteem to find out that you’re too late, that he already prefers your bloody sister. You are one lucky bitch.”
“Carol said the same.”
“Not one to mince her words, Carol.”
“No. Look, um, Robert apologises for sending the DVD to me via you. Not one of his best ideas, he said. He’s going to write you a note and apologise properly.”
“I can’t wait. You slept with him yet?”
Heat flooded her face. “Mags, that’s none of your business. This is not a story. Do you understand?”
Mags’ eyebrows shot up. “Is that how little you think of me? That I’d run off to The World on Sunday and sell them a story about my own sister?”
“If I did that, I might as well throw you to the wolves. I mean, there are women out there who would tear you limb from limb if they knew you were Robert Armstrong’s girlfriend. There’s one particular fan site on the net and some of the posts even make me blush and that’s saying something.”
She couldn’t remember when she’d last seen Mags blush. “I don’t think I’ve been on that one.”
“Yeah, well, don’t look at it. Not now. This bloke I’m seeing on Friday better be something spectacular.”
“Please tell me that you don’t hate me?” she begged.
Mags pulled a face. “I don’t hate you. I’m insanely jealous, but I don’t hate you.”
She sighed with relief. “Thank you.”
“I suppose I’d better start pinching some clothes for you now. You’ve got sod all worth wearing in that wardrobe.”
She laughed. “That would be great.”
“Okay. Can we sit down now? I wear fuck-me shoes every day, but it gets me bloody nowhere and leaves my feet in bits.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t wear them every single day.”
“I’ll think about it.” Mags sighed, sinking onto the sofa and kicking the garish red shoes off. “Got any crisps?”
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