Cloudy with a Chance of Love: The unmissable laugh-out-loud read
‘Hilariously engaging and kept me smiling throughout!’– Rachel’s Random Reads (top 1000 Amazon Reviewer)Every cloud has a silver lining when it comes to love…Weather forecaster Daryl Williams never minded the fact that she had a big bottom. It’s always been behind her. In fact, it was one of the things that her husband loved about her. Until he ran off with her best friend, Gabby.Daryl knows that she needs to get back in the dating game, she just doesn’t know how. So when her friend suggests taking a fortune forecast, she reluctantly agrees. And it looks like Daryl’s luck is in, by Friday she has a 99% chance of falling in love!Only, as Daryl embarks on date after disastrous date, it soon becomes clear that even when it’s written in the stars, finding the one after the one is never easy…The laugh-out-loud, uplifting story from Fiona Collins, bestselling author of A Year of Being Single. Perfect for fans of Jane Costello, Helen Fielding and Fiona Gibson.Praise for Cloudy with a Chance of Love:‘Hilariously engaging and kept me smiling throughout! A fresh new voice in romantic comedy writing.’ – Rachel’s Random Reads‘So good it'll make you feel like skipping!’ – Sweet is Always in Style‘A fantastic summer read that warms your heart.’ – The Nest of Books‘An entertaining, fun and light-hearted romantic read that will undoubtedly make you laugh, I loved it!’ – A Spoonful of Happy Endings‘This novel downloaded onto my Kindle at midnight and I thought I'd take a look at it before I went to sleep. At 1.30 am I was still reading, absolutely hooked.’ – Rachel W (Amazon Reviewer)‘Full of giggles and laugh out loud moments from start to finish!’ – Lilac Mills (Amazon Reviewer)
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Every cloud has a silver lining when it comes to love…
Daryl Williams never minded the fact that she had a big bottom. It’s always been behind her. In fact, it was one of the things that her husband loved about her. Until he ran off with her best friend, Gabby.
Daryl knows that she needs to get back in the dating game, she just doesn’t know how. So when her friend suggests taking a fortune forecast, she reluctantly agrees. And it looks like Daryl’s luck is in, by Friday she has a 99% chance of falling in love!
Only, even when it’s written in the stars, finding the one after the one is never easy…
The laugh-out-loud, uplifting story from Fiona Collins, bestselling author of A Year of Being Single. Perfect for fans of Jane Costello, Helen Fielding and Fiona Gibson.
A Year of Being Single
Cloudy With a Chance of Love
Fiona Collins
FIONA COLLINS
lives in the Essex countryside with her husband and three children, but also finds time for a loving relationship with a Kindle. She likes to write feisty, funny novels about slightly (ahem) more mature heroines. Fiona studied Film & Literature at Warwick University and has had many former careers including TV presenting in Hong Kong; talking about roadworks on the M25 on the radio; and being a film and television extra. She has kissed Gerard Butler and once had her hand delightfully close to George Clooney’s bum. When not writing, Fiona enjoys watching old movies and embarrassing her children. You can follow Fiona on Twitter @FionaJaneBooks.
To Matthew
Thanks go to my amazing editor, Charlotte.
To Elizabeth Davies and Mary Torjussen, always!
To Matthew and my children for letting me shut the study door and get on with it!
Contents
Sunday
I have a large bottom. If I had to quantify it, I would say it was somewhere between the size of a space hopper and a meteorite. It’s pretty big, and it needs quite a bit of upholstery to keep it in check. Big knickers. Spanx. Industrial scaffolding like you might see on buildings in major cities. But I like it. I’m used to it. It has always been behind me.
It’s a relief to find that it’s very fashionable to have a big bum these days. It never used to be. Women used to spend hours in the gym trying to whittle the damn thing down to nothing; now they’re trying to build it up. Make it round and firm and sticky-outy. Women have operations where things are stuffed into it: fat from other parts of their body, cotton wool, sandwiches… A big behind has recently become an asset and I finally find it’s something to be quite proud of. I could definitely give Kim Kardashian a run for her money, in the backside stakes, although I’m not sure I could ‘break’ the internet (unless I sat on it, of course) – I’m in my mid-forties for god’s sake. I no longer resemble the mildly sexy goddess I once was. But I do have a fashionably big bum.
My big bottom is currently coming in very handy. I’m sitting on it, on the cold ground, in Trafalgar Square, and laughing my head off. The denseness of my large behind means I probably won’t feel the cold for another – ooh – three minutes and I’m laughing because I’ve just chucked my wedding ring in one of the fountains. Yes, it’s gone, just like that. I stood up, on the edge of the fountain and, without fuss or war cry, just lobbed it in. I thought it might land with a satisfying clunk, but it didn’t. I couldn’t hear anything, which was a bit of a disappointment. It just sank to the bottom, without ceremony, and now it sits there, rather forlornly, with all the pennies and the euros and the ring pulls from cans of Coke. Still, it feels wonderful, getting rid of it like that. It’s gone. I feel light, I feel free. I also feel slightly drunk; I may have had three or more cocktails in a bar off The Strand.
I’d struggled to get it off. Well, it has been on my left hand for fifteen years. Sam had to lend me her little blue tin of Vaseline, so I could lubricate my finger.
‘Rub it all around the knuckle, that’s it, then wriggle,’ she’d said.
‘It’s bloody stuck!’
‘Wriggle it a bit more. Keep trying. You can do it, Daryl.’
I kept trying. I smeared on a bit more Vaseline and wriggled it a bit more and finally the damn ring was free of my knuckle and off my finger and at the bottom of the fountain. Thank goodness for that. Let a Portuguese language student have it, for all I care. Let it fund some eagled-eyed teenager’s first Nissan Micra. Let it languish there for ever. It was nothing to do with me any more.
‘Well done,’ said Sam. ‘How do you feel?’
