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BLOG TOUR AND EXTRACT WHO’S THAT GIRL MHAIRI McFARLANE

February 13, 2017

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WHO’S THAT GIRL BY MHAIRI MCFARLANE

When Edie is caught in a compromising position at her colleagues’ wedding, all the blame falls on her – turns out that popularity in the office is not that different from your schooldays. Shamed online and ostracised by everyone she knows, her boss suggests an extended sabbatical – ghost-writing an autobiography for hot new acting talent, Elliot Owen. Easy, right?

Wrong. Banished back to her home town of Nottingham, Edie is not only dealing with a man who probably hasn’t heard the word ‘no’ in a decade, but also suffering an excruciating regression to her teenage years as she is forced to move back in with her widowed father and judgey, layabout sister.

When the world is asking who you are, it’s hard not to question yourself. Who’s that girl? Edie is ready to find out.

Extract

‘Was that free?’ barked the sixty-something man with the hearing aid, dressed as a posh country squire, eyes fixed on the glass in Edie’s hand. Edie and Louis had been put on
the odds and sods, ‘hard work, nothing in common’ table. The others had immediately abandoned the hard work and scattered, in the longueur between meal and disco. This sod remained, with his timid-looking, equally tweedy wife. ‘Er, no? I can get you something if you like?’ ‘No, don’t bother. You come to these bloody interminable
things and they fleece you like sheep. As if the gift list wasn’t brass neck enough. Four hundred pounds for some bloody ugly blue cake whisk, the silly clots. Oh hush, Deirdre, you know I’m right.’ Edie plopped down in her banqueting chair and tried not to laugh, because she thought the Kitchen Aid was a rinse, too. She swigged the acidic white wine and thanked the Lord for the gift of alcohol to get through this. The top table passed the microphone down the line to the groom, Jack. He tapped 􀀀his glass with a fork and coughed into a curled fist. His sleeve was tugged by his new mother-in-law. He put a palm up to indicate, ‘Sorry, in a second, folks.’ ‘What’s this crackpot notion of wearing brown shoes with a blue suit and a pink tie, nowadays?’ said hearing aid man, of the groom’s attire. ‘Anyone would think this was a lavender liaison.’ Edie thought Jack’s tall, narrow frame in head-to-toe springsummer Paul Smith looked pretty great but she wasn’t about to defend him.‘What’s a lavender liaison?’ Louis said.‘A marriage of convenience, to conceal one’s true nature. When one’s interests lie elsewhere.’ ‘Oh, I see. We’re having one of those,’ he grinned, clasping Edie to him.‘Forgive me if I don’t scrabble for my inhaler in shock,’ he said, looking at Louis’s quiffed hair. ‘I had you down as someone who likes to smell the flowers.’ Edie had heard more inventive euphemisms for ‘homosexual’ than she expected today. ‘Think you’ll ever bother with marriage?’ Louis said, under his breath. ‘I think it’s more whether marriage will ever bother with me,’ Edie said. ‘Babe. Loads of people would marry you. You’re so “wife”. I look at you and think “WIFE ME”.’ Edie laughed, hollowly. ‘Surprised they’re not making this known to me then.’ ‘You’re an enigma, you know . . .’ Louis said, prodding the bottom of his glass with the plastic stirrer. Edie’s stomach tensed,

Who’s That Girl?: A Laugh-Out-Loud Sparky Romcom! (Paperback) Only £2.99 On Amazon

 

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