Published by Sourcebooks Incorporated on 2015-02-03
Genres: Contemporary, Contemporary Women, Fiction, Humorous, Romance
Sophie has no interest in finding love. But what happens when love finds her? Sophie Wells is a successful photographer with a focus on putting the past firmly behind her. When Josh Strachan returns to the seaside town of Cornwall from the States to run his family's hotel, he can't understand why the fun, sexy girl has zero interest in letting him-or any man for that matter-into her life. He also can't understand how he's been duped into employing Sophie's impulsive friend Tula, whose crush on him is decidedly unrequited. Both girls remain mum about the reasons behind Sophie's indifference to love. But that doesn't mean Josh is going to quit trying...
Buy THE UNEXPECTED CONSEQUENCES OF LOVE by Jill Mansell:
With over 9 million copies sold, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jill Mansell writes irresistible and funny romantic tales for women in the tradition of Marian Keyes and Sophie Kinsella. She worked for many years at the Burden Neurological Hospital, Bristol, and now writes full time. She lives with her partner and their children in Bristol, England.
Jill Mansell’s Countdown to Valentine’s Day!
To celebrate the U.S. release of The Unexpected Consequences of Love by Jill Mansell, we’re sharing excerpts from the book to get you geared up for some Valentine’s Day love – from your book boyfriend or otherwise – with an excerpt from her newest book!
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Excerpt from The Unexpected Consequences of Love by Jill Mansell
Marguerite Marshall was in her midfifties, with elaborately coiffed black hair, immaculate makeup, and birdlike, miss–nothing dark eyes. Over the course of the last twenty–five years she had written thirty–eight bestselling novels, which had been translated into over forty languages. In the region of twenty–four million copies of her books had been sold worldwide, though it was impossible to announce an exact figure as her devoted fans never stopped buying them; sales just kept spiraling upward.
Sophie knew this because she heard pretty much the same spiel every time they met. Not for Marguerite, the British habit of modesty and self–deprecation; her confidence was breathtaking and she loved nothing better than a captive audience.
Which was why Sophie had allowed an extra couple hours for today’s shoot. She knew from experience that once Marguerite had you on the premises, it wasn’t easy to escape.
The house, Moor Court, was an imposing ivy–clad Victorian residence with well–tended grounds and a staff cottage at the bottom of the driveway.
Well, it had originally been a staff cottage. These days it was more of a shag pad.
And it was the shagger himself who opened the door of the main house, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Morning, angel. She’s all ready for you in the drawing room.” Leading the way across the hall, Riley pulled open a second door and said, “Mags, Sophie’s here. I’ve told her she’s going to have to use all her tricks to blur out those bags and wrinkles. You know, you really shouldn’t have downed that second bottle of gin last night.”
No one else would get away with speaking to Marguerite like that. No one would dare to even try. But all she did was shake her head and say good–naturedly to Sophie, “Ignore him. It’s all lies. And I certainly don’t have bags and wrinkles.”
Riley said, “That’s because you’ve spent the last two hours covering them with makeup.”
“I’ve spent the last two hours writing fifteen hundred words,” Marguerite declared. “And rather brilliant ones they are too.”
He winked at Sophie. “Whatever you say. Right, anything you want picking up while I’m out?”
“No thanks, darling. What time will you be back?”
“Who knows? See how the day goes. Okay if I take the Merc?”
“Fine. Just try not to dent it.”
Riley grinned, raised a hand in farewell, and left them to it. They heard the front door crash shut, the throaty sound of the red Mercedes Sport starting up, then the scrunch of the tires on gravel as he tore off down the drive.
“That boy.” Marguerite shook her head fondly. “He’ll be the death of me.”
And whose fault would that be? Not that Sophie said this aloud, but really, Marguerite had no one to blame but herself. Riley’s parents had died in a boating accident nine years ago, when he was twenty. His mother and Marguerite had been sisters. Marguerite, who had married and divorced three husbands, had never had children of her own, nor known a moment of maternal longing in her life. Babies repulsed her and older children were either boring or unendurably tiresome. But when Riley had lost his mum and dad, she’d risen to the occasion with typical magnificence.
Now, almost a decade on, the damage had been done. Having lavished him with love, attention, and access to all the money a work–shy, profoundly hedonistic twentysomething could wish for, Marguerite had succeeded in turning him into a feckless Peter Pan figure who was all but unemployable. Officially, Riley was meant to be driving her around to literary events, organizing the author tours and public appearances, and handling all the tedious company paperwork. In reality, he appeared to do little other than please himself, and spend his days surfing, socializing, and having fun.
Which was undoubtedly nice work if you could get it, but hardly admirable. Riley might be good company, but you couldn’t say he possessed the kind of qualities you’d look for in a man. Not that it seemed to bother the girls he brought back to his cottage at the bottom of the drive.
About the Author: With over 7.5 million copies sold, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jill Mansell writes irresistible and funny romantic tales for women in the tradition of Marian Keyes and Sophie Kinsella. She worked for many years at the Burden Neurological Hospital, Bristol, and now writes full-time. She lives with her partner and their children in Bristol, England.
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