Four Bridesmaids and a White Wedding: the laugh-out-loud romantic comedy of the year!
‘Pure unadulterated fun. A joy to read.’– Rachel’s Random Reads (top 500 Amazon reviewer)Don’t tell the bride!Rose, Sal and JoJo have been looking forward to their best friend Wendy’s hen party for ages. A relaxing spa break is the perfect way to escape their crazy careers, grumpy husbands and stroppy children – even if the groom’s straight-laced sister, Tamsin, is coming too.Until they realise that there’s been a mistake in the booking and instead of sipping prosecco in fluffy white dressing gowns they’re off to bridesmaid bootcamp!Squeezing themselves reluctantly into tiny shorts and sliding through the mud, it’s only a matter of time before secrets emerge that could change everything…Forget about saving the date, these four bridesmaids need to save the day – otherwise will there even be a white wedding at all?The hilariously uplifting new 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 Four Bridesmaids and a White Wedding:‘Pure unadulterated fun. A joy to read.’ – Rachel’s Random Reads (top 500 Amazon reviewer)‘A fun and fabulous read!’ – Jessica Bell (NetGalley reviewer)‘A sizzling, hilarious, saucy and sexy book. Simply the perfect read for this summer.’ – Sparkly Word‘Funny, light-hearted and fabulous!’ – Karen Whittard (NetGalley reviewer)‘Brilliant and fabulous… this book reminds me of Sex and the City!’ – Rebecca Stacey (NetGalley reviewer)
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Don’t tell the bride!
Rose, Sal and JoJo have been looking forward to their best friend Wendy’s hen party for ages. A relaxing spa break is the perfect way to escape their crazy careers, grumpy husbands and stroppy children – even if the groom’s straight-laced sister, Tamsin, is coming too.
Until they realise that there’s been a mistake in the booking and instead of sipping prosecco in fluffy white dressing gowns they’re off to bridesmaid bootcamp!
Squeezing themselves reluctantly into tiny shorts and sliding through the mud, it’s only a matter of time before secrets emerge that could change everything…
Forget about saving the date, these four bridesmaids need to save the day – otherwise will there even be a white wedding at all?
The hilariously uplifting new story from Fiona Collins, bestselling author of A Year of Being Single. Perfect for fans of Jane Costello, Helen Fielding and Fiona Gibson.
Four Bridesmaids and a White Wedding
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 as a radio presenter, 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.
I would like to once again thank my brilliant editor, Charlotte, without whom this book may well have been always the bridesmaid, never the bride…
And Mary Torjussen, always, for your help and support.
To Shirley. May the wine flow freely and the music always get us on the dancefloor…
Contents
INVITATION
You are invited to: Wendy’s hen weekend (yes, I know she said she didn’t want one, but tough!)
When: Friday 21st to Monday 24th July
Where: The Retreat, Colcombe, Wiltshire – ‘Glamour Pamper Package’ to include ‘Party at the Lake House’ on Sunday 23rdJuly
Meet: Paddington Train Station, 6 p.m. (don’t be late – by that I mean you, Sal . . . train departs at 18.21 sharp!)
P.S. This is a sophisticated occasion – no tacky hen weekend props please!!!
JoJo x
Rose
Rose folded the massive, pink and gold ‘Bride’ sash into the front pocket of her overnight bag and popped the invitation that had arrived in the post two months ago – JoJo’s swirly handwriting on classy stiff white card – in the top of the main compartment. She fastened the bag and left the house.
‘Mum! Can you take me to the brow bar when you get back?’ hollered Darcie, her eldest – seventeen – from an open upstairs window, as Rose banged the front door until it shut behind her. It still didn’t close first time; perhaps during one of Jason’s fleeting visits home he could actually fix it.
‘Maybe!’ called Rose over her shoulder as she headed down the drive towards the waiting taxi. God knows what more Darcie needed to do with her brows, Rose pondered, as she tripped over her own foot but tried to pretend she hadn’t by turning it into an intentional-looking skip – the jet black, inch-thick caterpillars her daughter sported were beginning to take on a life of their own. Soon they’d need their own rooms.
‘Can you bring me back some products?’ yelled Louisa – fifteen – from somewhere behind Darcie.
Rose stopped by the taxi and looked up at the window. Louisa, her head wedged next to Darcie’s, had her hair piled up in a massive bun and was wearing a greeny-brown face mask that made her look like Hannibal Lecter.
‘Please, Mum! Serums, oils, body balms, peels? The more expensive the better? I don’t do cheap, Mum!’
‘I know!’ yelled Rose. None of them did cheap; they were costing her and Jason a bloody fortune. ‘I’ll do my best!’ She opened the taxi door, flung her bag into the back and proceeded to clamber in after it. There was a frantic rapping on the window. Katie – fourteen, and Rose’s youngest – was grinning wildly behind the glass, her wholly unnecessary orange foundation glowing in the struggling afternoon sun like the surface of Mars.
Rose wound down the window.
‘Mum?’
‘Yes, Katie?’
‘Can I use your straighteners while you’re gone? Mine are broken again.’
Rose sighed. ‘Yes, all right, if you must.’ Katie had inherited her mother’s bull-in-a-china-shop clumsiness; it left a lot of broken items in its wake. ‘Can I go now?’
‘Yes, Mum. Hey,’ Katie pointed out accusingly, ‘you’ve got blusher on!’
