Six of Australia’s leading chick lit authors present a moving and hilarious collection of autumnal stories that show the seasons may change, but true love is perennial.
What if leaving one life behind meant the best was yet to come?
Sometimes the end is just the beginning …
Leaving Princess Kate by Samantha Bond
Mark and Kate were the perfect couple, living the perfect life in their fairytale cottage, until it all went terribly wrong. Now Mark is certain Kate is going to leave him – but not if he leaves her first…
Stolen Kisses by Carla Caruso
Shy journalist Misty wasn’t happy about leaving the bright lights of the city to follow an ageing rock band on tour. Then she met handsome photographer Jesse, and now leaving him is the last thing on her mind…
Run to You by Laura Greaves
Melissa signed up for the New York City Marathon in an effort to run away from her troubled past. Can she leave her broken heart behind when new romance beckons?
Rebound by Georgina Penney
Samantha left Peaceful Bay without a backwards glance – but now she’s back in town, broke, unemployed and living with her OCD mother. Even worse, her childhood nemesis, Craig, is enjoying every minute of her downfall…
Just Friends by Katie Spain
Nathan is the man of her dreams, but even on their wedding night she knows she should leave him. Is their love enough to make it work?
Deluge by Sandy Vaile
Carly left Elliot more than a decade ago, and the pain still runs deep. Now an act of God will force them together - but can it reconcile their hearts?
Excerpt from Just Friends by Katie Spain:
It took my new husband exactly 45 minutes to cheat on me.
That’s 2,700 seconds. Less time than it takes to bake a cake for God’s sake.
Maybe I should give him credit. It’s a fine effort by anyone’s standards and surely worthy of a place in the Guinness Book of Records. “Time taken to cheat on new wife goes to Nathan from Adelaide, Australia.” I can see it there, nestled between World’s Biggest Biceps (64.77cm) and The Tallest Living Dog (Zeus the Great Dane, a rollicking 1.118 metres tall).
I’ll have to leave him here. Leave him to his illicit dance-floor dalliance and the not-so-subtle snog with a stranger who probably won’t remember his name in the morning. Maybe it’s because I didn’t wear white. I’ve never been one for virginal ways. Or maybe we simply weren’t meant to be.
An hour earlier we’d blubbed, smooched and canoodled our way through wedding proceedings. There was nothing traditional about it. No white meringue dress, no ’til death do us part, no stupid cutting of a tasteless fruitcake. Just us, a spur of the moment decision and a healthy dash of the absurd. Cue The King.
We chose a fat Elvis impersonator to guide us through the nuptials. The heaving, white silk-encased monstrosity led me through the kitsch church towards the man of my dreams.
Even the rings were ridiculous. His, a diamante-studded cockroach, mine an Egyptian goddess with a heaving bosom and nipples pert with excitement that matched our own. I found the rings in a second-hand store. They were perfect. Like us.
I didn’t invite family, nor did he. Instead we asked a handful of friends to turn up at a mystery location and dress to impress. They didn’t know they were attending a wedding. Not even the groomsmen who stood beside the pews in perfectly ironed shirts, sailor shoes and shorts cut just above the knees. Confusion rocked their freshly shaven faces but it didn’t take them long to realise what was going on. Looking back, they say they were expecting it. They couldn’t have predicted obese Elvis though. He was as ridiculous as it gets… just the way we’ve always liked it. A perfect, imperfect, glorious match.
I dressed for the occasion in a leopard-print dress, a ring of faux white daisies in my hair and curls teased by humidity. He wore his trademark bow tie and a smile. The promise of autumn toyed with the dwindling dregs of summer and Nathan’s eyes matched the burnt copper leaves outside.
We laughed when Elvis raised his arms to reveal sweat patches you could swim in and wiggled his ample hips with Mr Whippy-inspired gusto. Onlookers clapped, wiped tears from their eyes and toasted young love with plastic champagne flutes.
My soulmate twirled me across the altar, hands entwined, and we gazed into each other’s eyes with love as pure as the day we met.
“You may now kiss your bride. Thank you very much.”
As we left the church he scooped me up in his arms. “I love you baby,” he whispered. “My wife, my life.”