Glittering Fortunes
‘Jackie Collins for the modern gal’ – Grazia’A fabulously fun and tasty slice of chick-lit pie’ Heat‘Made in Chelsea combined with Jackie Collins and we absolutely love it!’ UKMums.TV‘Deliciously tawdry and amazing… I loved every second’The London Diaries‘A red hot, super steamy read with heaps of sensuality’ Contemporary Romance Reviews‘An amazing novel…I’d definitely recommend’ chicklitreviewsandnews.comTWO BROTHERSTWO RIVALSOne desvastating family secretCharlie Lomax hasn’t seen his brother in years. Cato’s been too busy living the A-list Hollywood dream to bother with the likes of a small Cornish town. But now he’s back. Hollywood and British aristocracy are about to clash as Cato sets out to claim the Lomax legacy he believes is his birthright.Unsuspecting Olivia needs a job after spectacularly failing to make a life for herself in London. Forced back to Cornwall, she has no idea what she’s letting herself in for by becoming a gardener at the crumbling but beautiful Usherwood estate. She certainly didn’t bargain on becoming embroiled in the biggest scandal of the year, and not least because the brooding Charlie is a man she can’t seem to stay away from…
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Victoria Fox
Praise for Wicked Ambition
‘It’s sexy and wicked … I loved this dirty, steamy page-turner.’
—The Sun
‘Quite simply the best “bonkbuster” you’ll read all year.’
—Daily Express
‘Oozes glamour and revenge. The ultimate beach read for 2013’ —All About Soap
‘Lashings of scandal, shocking secret pasts and steamy romance’
—New
‘A proper guilty pleasure’ —Now
‘Fans of glamorous bonkbusters will enjoy’ —Heat
Praise for Temptation Island
‘Victoria Fox’s glossy chick-lit novel gives Jackie Collins a run for her money.’ —Irish Tatler
‘Just too exciting to put down’ —Closer
‘Pour yourself a glass of Pimms because this summer’s bonkbuster is guaranteed to get you seriously hot.’
—Cosmopolitan
‘Even we were shocked at the scale of scandal in this juicy tale! It’s 619 pages of sin!’ —Now
‘If you’re a fan of Jackie Collins and Jilly Cooper you’ll love the whirlwind of intrigue, mystery, sex and scandal …
We couldn’t put it down!’ —handbag.com
Praise for Hollywood Sinners
‘This debut novel is full of sex, glamour and divas!’ 4 stars
—Star
‘For a trip to ultimate escapism, take the Jackie Collins freeway, turn left at Sexy Street, right at Scandal Boulevard. Your destination is Victoria Fox’s Hollywood.’
—dailyrecord.co.uk
For Kate Wilde
Love and thanks to Sally Williamson, Jenny Hutton, Donna Condon, Ian Grutchfield, Ali Wilkinson and all at MIRA/Mills & Boon, for turning a hot date into a romance.
Also to Maddy Milburn, who works so hard for my books; to Cesca Major for what makes a hero; and to Alice Usherwood for letting me borrow her beautiful name.
Table of Contents
IT WAS A fine day to be on the sea. Summertime in England and the sky was wide and cornflower-blue, golden sunshine twinkling on the water, and on the shore the small Cornish town of Lustell Cove sat pretty as a drawing.
Olivia Lark sensed the wave at her back and began to paddle, working her arms as the rush gathered pace and she braced herself for the leap. On a surge she lifted on to the board, the motion of the swell carrying her for an electrifying instant before her footing slipped out from beneath her and she toppled into the water. For seconds she was submerged in a whoosh of salty-fresh silence before surfacing, half gasping, half laughing, into the day, and feeling, as she always did, on the receiving end of a cosmic punchline. Despite a mouthful of chalky Atlantic and the noose of seaweed wrapped around her ankle, out on the water she felt happiest of all.
She splashed into land, the board tucked under one arm and the other lifted to squeeze the briny dregs from her chestnut hair. On the beach, bronzed bodies basked in the heat on pink towels, a rainbow of parasols fluttered lazily in the breeze and chased an arc around the horseshoe inlet. Holiday makers licked strawberry ice cream and patted castles out of gritty, grainy buckets, while on the water black shapes paddled, bobbing on the sway, counting to the ultimate wave.
Swiftly she showered and dressed, tying her hair in a loose, damp ponytail, and made her way across the sand. She couldn’t put it off for ever.
The Blue Paradise surf shack was a timber cabin bordered by cut-out palms. Out front a heap of kayaks were knotted together, haphazard driftwood stumbling a path to the entrance. She almost collided with a group of girls on their way out.
‘Oops,’ she backed up to let them pass, ‘sorry!’
Slinky as panthers in their wetsuits, tossing manes and tinkling laughter, the girls were like glossy creatures from another planet. Olivia couldn’t help wondering if, in her younger years, she had enjoyed access to mascara, a hairdryer, a wardrobe—words that through her teens had taken on the exotic overtones of a far-flung spice market—she might have earned access to that kind of magazine-friendly femininity. As it was there seemed to be an awful lot of effort that went into it (seldom was the day she staggered into the morning with so much as a perfunctory glance in the mirror), time that could be better spent doing other things, like sticking your head out of a car window, or running at cows through a mud sludge, or daydreaming about the guy you fancied, or having a lie-in, or painting a picture, or making lists about all the things you really ought to spend your time doing, which wasn’t any of the above.
