MORE THAN JUST A HOLIDAY ROMANCE?

Her daughter, her job and divorcing her untrustworthy ex are Leah’s main priorities. She isn’t really bothered that her life might be missing a few things. But after winning a prestigious travel blogger award, she’s inundated with offers to review glamorous holiday destinations. Lying around drinking exotic cocktails and being paid for it! What could be better? Perhaps a romantic trip to idyllic Greece to find the one man who might make Leah risk her heart again…

Available in eformat and paperback. Amazon UK and US click on the buy links below:

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READ CHAPTER ONE:

Prologue:

 

‘Antonio, we’re back,’ I call out, kicking the door shut with the heel of my boot.

Juggling Rosie on one side and groceries on the other, I drop the carrier bags down with a soft clunk on the worktop, then deposit the little one on the floor. I hope that sound of glass on tin doesn’t mean there’s an imminent chance of a wine puddle. Yanking the bottle out to check, I see that it’s still intact. Phew! I could have fallen at the first hurdle as wine is a key component in my little plan.

Tonight, I’m planning on having a romantic evening with my husband. I’m going to insist that we watch a film together and relax a little, once Rosie is asleep. Assuming she settles before I come back down to find him snoring on the sofa, like so many nights recently. But then he’s out as much as he’s in these days due to work pressures. I worry that he’s running himself into the ground and I hate that he steadfastly refuses to talk to me about it.

I look down at little Rosie, levering herself up on the vegetable rack so she can grab hold of a carrot.

‘Yum, Rosie. Carrots are good for you.’ I make an encouraging face and she stuffs the end into her mouth, then grimaces. It’s hard not to laugh.

I sweep her up into my arms, settling her back on my hip and head off to see what Antonio is doing. He said he was working from home today but he’s very quiet.

‘Let’s go find Daddy, shall we?’ Rosie looks up at me and grins.

‘Dada,’ she replies, waving her carrot. If only I could get her to actually eat one, I’d be delighted.

Walking into the upstairs office something doesn’t look quite right and I stop to gaze around.

Why has Antonio been tidying up when he said he was going to be busy? He gave me a grateful hug when I said I’d take Rosie off to do the shopping to give him some peace and quiet.

His laptop isn’t on the desk and his work diary isn’t there, either. Nor his briefcase. Ah, I expect he’s been called into work. I just assumed he was still here and that his car was in the garage.

‘Daddy’s gone to work, Rosie.’ Little eyes look up at me and she frowns. But as I continue to scan the room a cold feeling starts to wrap itself around my core.

Rosie wobbles but I clasp her to me as I rush into the bedroom, pulling open the wardrobe door adjacent to the bed. I gasp and stand back, unable to comprehend the hangers now stripped bare, some lying in a tangled heap at the bottom.

I snuggle my arm around Rosie’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze as my feet carry us back into the office. Placing her down on the floor I slam the door shut and begin frantically pulling out the drawers of Antonio’s desk.

It’s clear some things are missing as the top drawer is half empty. When I pull out the bottom drawer, though, it’s stuffed full of letters. All I can see is red ink staring back at me as if it’s become the new black. I grab a handful and stare down at them for a moment in sheer disbelief before throwing them on the desk.

Overdue … final demand … debt collection agency … notice of enforcement … County Court Judgement. Looking down at the open drawer, there must be over fifty similar letters and I collapse down in a heap onto the chair. My head is spinning and my hands are trembling.
Tears fill my eyes as I look across at Rosie playing, blissfully unaware that our world has just come crashing down around us. My pocket begins to vibrate and I pull out my phone, hoping it’s Antonio. Maybe this isn’t what it seems, at all … but then I see it’s Mum calling. I switch it off and sit back, tears silently falling in a torrent down my face. I’m too numb to take it all in. None of this makes any sense to me and I simply don’t know what to do, or where to turn next.

Wake Me Up, I Must Be Dreaming

‘Here to present tonight’s very special award is our reigning travel ambassador, the inimitable and charismatic Caroline Blakely. Please join me in giving a very warm welcome to a ground-breaking journalist who has become an icon of our daytime TV screens.’

There’s a wild round of applause as Caroline begins the walk across the stage to the podium.

Looking extremely elegant in a long, slinky black dress that hugs every perfect little curve, she delivers her trademark wave. She lingers until the applause gradually begins to subside; I’m transfixed and can’t take my eyes off her. I never dreamt I would ever see her in the flesh.

‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for such a wonderfully warm welcome to the annual

Traveller Abroad industry gala evening. I’m absolutely delighted to be here tonight to present this year’s Top Travel Blog award. But it’s also a celebration of a group of truly inspiring people who have set the internet alight. With their wonderful posts about destinations both home and abroad, their social media following and interactions are a lesson in how to capture the attention of your target audience. They have helped boost not only the domestic travel industry, but have been instrumental in raising the profile of many small businesses who constantly struggle to gain visibility.’

There’s a pause while Caroline delicately prises open the envelope, no doubt being very careful not to ruin those beautifully manicured nails of hers. I slide my own, home-manicure job beneath the table, letting my hands rest out of sight on my lap.

Stealing a glance at each of the other eight nominees seated around the table, I wonder who the lucky winner will be. Of course, this is in between trying to make a convincing job of looking like I belong here and am taking it in my stride. My fellow bloggers all appear amazingly calm and professional on the surface. They are all in with a real chance of winning, so I can only hazard a guess at how difficult it must be to maintain your composure when you are so close to victory.

The pressure is mounting with each second that passes and, like the true pros they are, each of them does an admirable job of displaying that well-practised smile. The one that says it’s all about the nomination and not the actual winning part. Which it isn’t, of course, unless you are like me – the wild card. I’m simply delighted, and a little shocked if I’m being honest, to be here rubbing shoulders with the best. I suspect my blog hits will double in figures tomorrow off the back of this one evening alone. So, while the dress was an unexpected expense, it will hopefully pay for itself several times over. More visibility means more hotels will be clamouring to be featured and, in turn, more advertisers will want to partner-up. Maybe living the dream isn’t such a distant prospect, after all. I want to give up the day job and become a full-time travel blogger. But I know that’s a big ask and that’s why I’m giving it everything I have – every spare minute of my time.

To put things into perspective, I’m the newbie and it was only fifteen months ago that I decided to expand my website to blog about my travels. As a freelance photographer, it made sense to add my own holiday snaps and as more and more visitors asked about the locations I featured, I began posting useful information about each destination. And it’s grown from there; well, I suppose exploded is a more accurate description. I was lucky enough to bump into the iconic pop star, Harry Martin, on one of my first trips abroad. I cheekily asked if I could interview him about his stay at the prestigious Altar Bar resort in Cannes. To my complete and utter shock, he agreed; right place, right time, I suppose. I obviously caught him in the right mood. The interview went viral and suddenly my website was well and truly on the radar, plucked from obscurity and being shared all over social media.

But this is an extremely prestigious award and for the winner it will mean a flurry of very lucrative sponsorship deals – big money. Everyone with something to sell wants to advertise on the hottest blogs and the winner will be on fire! Trying not to be at all biased, as she also happens to be my best friend, I genuinely believe that Sally’s name will be on the card inside that envelope again this year. She’s been there since the start of this blogging phenomenon and I’m still only on the fringes of the mutually-supportive, travel-blogger network. But I’ve seen enough to know the award has been the subject of an almost unbelievable amount of speculation on Twitter and Instagram since the nominations were announced ten days ago. It is the trophy every travel blogger dreams of winning. And that’s why the tension now is almost tangible.
‘And the winner of this year’s Top Travel Blog award is…’

I reflect upon the stark reality that if I was at home now I’d probably be working on Rosie’s papier-mâché project. I mean, expecting a nine-year-old to model an entire island is a tall order. It’s also a lengthy process, as it has to dry in stages. The deadline is looming—

‘…The Sun Seeker’s Guide to a Happy Holiday.’

I join in with the clapping and then I tune back in; my stomach suddenly feels like a yo–yo as all eyes are on me. It hurtles to the floor at speed and then zips back up again, making me gasp.

‘Go! Move those feet lady, you only flippin’ won!’

Sally Martin, my blogger friend and constant inspiration, gives me a shove and suddenly my feet seem to take on a life of their own. They propel me forward in the direction of the stage, while the room around me becomes a blur. Focus, Leah, fainting is not an option, so pull yourself together. As I approach the steps I lift my dress slightly, for fear of tripping over in my ludicrously high heels while I make the ascent. If I’d thought for one single moment that there was even the slightest chance I could win, then I would most certainly have worn flats.

Each second seems agonisingly long, until finally I’m standing next to the celebrated host herself, thinking now is not the time to have a fangirl moment. Caroline hands me the award and I take it with both hands, hoping no one can see that I’m trembling from head to toe.

Turning and finding myself staring back at the assembled audience, I clutch the sizeable, cut-glass crystal award to my body. I don’t want to drop it and look totally inept. Cameras flash and I almost pinch myself. Is this real, or have I slipped into a warm, fuzzy dream from which I’ll wake up to find it’s just me and the waiting staff as they clear the tables? I’m so tired from working such long hours to make ends meet, that anything is possible these days.

An expectant hush falls over the room. My mouth is so dry that I have no idea whether I’m capable of forcing out anything at all, let alone something suitable enough for such a grand occasion. Caroline gives me an encouraging smile. She is the queen of daytime TV and it obviously takes a lot of skill to make everything look so easy, but I clear my throat as people are looking at me expectantly.

Placing the award down on the podium in front of me releases my hands to nervously smooth down my gown. It’s a pale silver-grey, the silky, floor-length fabric inset with lace panels. With a deep V at the back and a fishtail detail that gives a very modest little flair, I’m aware that it rather flatteringly accentuates my recently-acquired, enhanced rear profile.

‘Um … I … as you can tell I really wasn’t expecting to be standing up here tonight, so I will admit that I’m both thrilled and honoured—’

There’s another little ripple of applause, which thankfully gives me a few more seconds to compose myself; but this is going to be the shortest acceptance speech on record.

‘I feel truly blessed to accept this wonderful award on behalf of my daughter, Rosie, and myself.

We have been so very grateful for the support we have received from the travel blogging community and the amazing visitors who keep coming back to read our posts. To have our work acknowledged by people we so greatly admire is the icing on the cake. All I can say is a heartfelt thank you, as this means so very much to us.’

Caroline can see that I’m too overwhelmed to continue and she leans in as we air kiss. It’s like an elegant dance move, or a disaster if you get it wrong. As soon as it’s over, I beat a hasty retreat back to the nominees’ table before my nerves cause me to collapse in a heap on the floor.

‘A very worthy winner, indeed,’ Caroline’s words ring in my ears, even above the tumultuous applause.

I place the award on the table while everyone is listening to the final speech and manoeuvre my phone out of my evening bag and into my lap so I can text Mum.

Take a deep breath, Mum. I’m holding the trophy!!! The Sun Seeker only bloody won! Your daughter and granddaughter did it! Beyond thrilled, won’t sink in … will see u later. Lx

Okay, the grammar police would have a field day and maybe, just maybe, there are a few too many exclamation marks in there, but woo-hoo! Something unbelievably wonderful has happened and I’m struggling to take it all in.

Tonight, though, I feel like a million dollars for one simple reason: this is validation – and it does feel like it’s been a long haul. All those late nights spent online after putting Rosie to bed, often extending way into the early hours of the morning, have finally paid off.

With my previously almost non-existent rear stuck to my typing stool as if someone had superglued it there, every hour of sacrifice has been worth it and I’m feeling vindicated. Of course, the fact that it also helped me create a little junk in the trunk is a bonus. I’m no longer that painfully thin, straight up and straight down sort of girl I had become for a while. Stress is a fat-buster, in tandem with destroying just about everything else in your life. Blogging helped me to blot all of that out. But I digress, because what tonight means is that my gamble paid off. I wasn’t just reaching for an impossible dream, as so many people very kindly took the time to warn me.

I brush off thoughts of the handful of online haters who left mean comments on my lovingly-penned posts. And the spammers who left drivel that had to be deleted, wasting some of my precious online time each night; comments that looked like someone’s cat had been sitting on the keyboard and refused to budge.

But the best bit of all? When my daughter, Rosie, wakes up tomorrow morning and I tell her what has happened, I get to see that little face of hers light up with pride! It isn’t just my blog, but our blog, because we are a team of two, and now it’s official – we’re up there with the best…