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Title: The Single Mums Move On
Author: Janet Hoggarth, Author
Genre: Rom-Com
Pub. Date: July 18, 2019
Publisher: Aria Fiction
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#BuyLink ↓
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2ZBP1Au
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/30IWFtB
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2JF50Jx
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2YKNbwb
Blurb ↓
Can neighbours become more than good friends…
After her husband left her, Ali and her daughter Grace enjoyed living in what became known as ‘the Single Mums’ Mansion’. However, with her best friends Amanda and Jacqui moving on, it’s time for Ali and Grace to make their own way. Thankfully, a chance conversation leads to them moving into the infamous South London gated community known only as The Mews.
In The Mews everyone lives in each other’s pockets and curtain twitching is an Olympic sport. The neighbours are an eclectic bunch – from Nick the alleged spy, Carl the gorgeous but clearly troubled Idris Elba lookalike, to Debbie who is about to face the hardest fight of her life, and TV agent Samantha who is not as in control as she likes to pretend.
Each day brings another drama, but along with the tears, real friendships grow. And her neighbours' problems might unlock the key to something Ali has yearned for all along…
EXTRACT ↓
The following week on my way to the French Café, I ran, head down, past Sandeep and Mary’s shop, Kahn’s News. Violent feelings seesawed between wanting to hurl a Molotov cocktail furiously through their window; to pinning them both to the floor under my knobbly knees while Amanda tarred and feathered them. Even in my revenge plot fantasy, Amanda remained as annoyingly Switzerland as ever. ‘They didn’t know he was your boyfriend,’ she would reason with me outside the shop as I gripped an old pillow, a tub of PVA, a pair of scissors and a petrol bomb, dithering between the two methods. ‘If you want revenge, move on with your life. It’s the best revenge ever.’ But not as instantly gratifying…
The return of the post-break-up palpitations and clamped-shut stomach was most unwelcome. The only silver lining was that I could barely eat, which was a saviour after a gluttonous Christmas and working on photo shoots where a constant conveyor belt of tempting pastries and delicious cakes were always on offer. I’d found myself unwittingly humming the Black Beauty theme tune under my breath on a continual loop in an attempt to mitigate tension. It was my dependable musical mantra from my childhood that usually worked in any given situation: calming Grace down after a fall, soothing a raging hangover or just giving general succour to a busy head about to implode. However, today it was up against a tide of grief too strong to assuage.
How had I let yet another man just walk all over me? It wasn’t like I’d suffered a traumatic childhood, or enjoyed people abusing me in some masochistic way, but it was a pattern I had noticed emerging over my love life’s sprawling back catalogue. Every man I had ever loved had either been some kind of addict with a planet-sized ego or had needed rescuing. I missed Ifan so much, despite the fact he was an absolute turd, and even a whole week later all I wanted to do was text him. I had to physically sit on my hands as anxiety whooshed around my rumbling guts and tightened its grasp on my racing heart. I pushed open the door of the French Café and spotted Amanda sitting at the back by the TV fake fire. She waved me over.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked, sliding a laminated menu across the table towards me.
‘No, I feel horrendous.’ And I promptly burst into tears.
‘I thought you would. It’s starting to sink in now.’ She patted my hand as I blindly surveyed the menu, not really wanting anything other than to stop feeling like this.
‘I can’t believe I’m on my own again. And I don’t even know how I’ll ever meet anyone new – you’re married and Jacqui’s not even on the same continent any more. All my wing women are in retirement.’ I blew my nose on a paper napkin. I knew Ursula was still available for fun and frolics, but she wasn’t a mum, and she also didn’t mind being single.
‘Hey, why do you need to meet anyone? You’ve just broken up with a douchebag. Having some time alone would be the best thing now. Gather your thoughts and find out who you are. Stop listening to Radio One like Ifan – you need to switch back to Radio Four and be you again; embrace it!’
I laughed weakly. She was right. Instead of the usual nonsensical post-break-up ritual of sleeping in Ifan’s abandoned T-shirt, I had continued to tune in to Radio One to lessen the loss, even though I hated all the drivelling DJs.
‘You need to feel the pain, not cover it up with another shit relationship or you will end up trying to mould that man into who you want him to be all over again.’
‘Oh God, I did do that! The amount of times I wished Ifan had a better job or more money or more drive and ambition. He just didn’t. I fancied his physical appearance but was always waiting for him to change. I think I wanted him to be more dynamic, like Jim.’
‘We can’t change people; we can only change ourselves. Honour all your feelings and let them pass through you or they will just try to face you down another time twice as badly and you’ll be back to the beginning.’
‘I hate the pain! It hurts. I’m not good at change or being on my own. I want to be married and live in a family.’
Janet Hoggarth has worked on a chicken farm, as a bookseller, children’s book editor and DJ with her best friend (under the name of Whitney and Britney). She has published several children’s books, the most recent ones written under the pseudonym of Jess Bright. Her first adult novel The Single Mums’ Mansion, which was a huge bestseller, was based on her experiences of living communally as a single parent.
Author Links ↓
Twitter: @Janethauthor
Facebook: @JanetHoggarthAuthor
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