their screams.
‘It IS him! It’s JOSEPH STRIKE!’
‘AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH! JOSEPH STRIKE!’
‘IT’S JOSEPH STRIKE!’
Joe’s grip on me tightens as he holds me to him. More people appear on the bridge, keen to see if the girls, who are pointing and jumping around like lunatics, are right. The look on their
faces when they recognise Joe… It’s almost comical. But then I see some camera phones come out and I can’t help but give Joe a panicked look.
‘It’s okay,’ he says calmly, rubbing my arm. ‘It’s going to be okay.’
I take a deep breath and look up into his eyes, which are somehow smiling now. ‘Are you ready for this?’ he asks with a raised eyebrow.
‘As I’ll ever be.’
And then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me, while camera flashes go off over our heads.
Read on for a first look
at Paige Toon’s next bestseller
The Longest Holiday
Chapter 1
He’s smiling down at me with tears in his eyes as I say my solemn vow:
‘I, Laura Rose Smythson, take thee, Matthew Christopher Perry, to be my lawful wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward…’
I thought I would never feel like this about anyone ever again. Not after my first love… Not after the heartbreak and the loss and the trying to pick myself back up again… Then I
met Matthew, and I know that he has my heart forever: my perfect, gorgeous, adoring Matthew.
And then I wake up. And I remember that he’s not perfect. He’s so far from perfect that my heart could surely collapse from the pain that instantly engulfs me.
‘Sorry for waking you,’ my friend Marty apologises from beside me as she vigorously rubs at a damp patch on her jeans with a paper napkin. ‘Bridget knocked my effin’
drink over with her fat arse,’ she mutters, as I groggily come to. I look across at Bridget, who’s fast asleep and partially curled up towards the window, her offending arse anything
but fat. Feeling like I’m still in a dream – or, more accurately, a nightmare – I bend down to retrieve my bag from under the seat in front of me. Tissues are the one thing I
did
remember to pack. I would have forgotten my passport if Marty hadn’t reminded me.
‘Thanks,’ Marty says, as I use my Kleenex supply to help mop up the spilt gin and tonic on the tray table. ‘How are you feeling?’ She gives me a sympathetic look and
regards me over the top of her ruby-red horn-rimmed glasses.
‘Don’t,’ I warn, but it’s too late. The lump returns to firmly lodge itself in my throat.
‘Sorry, sorry!’ she says hurriedly before I cry again. ‘Here, quick!’ I take the gin and tonic that she’s proffering – what remains of it, anyway – and
throw it down in one gulp. ‘Think happy thoughts!’ she urges. ‘Think of the sun! Think of the sea! Think of the cocktails on the beach and all of the hot men!’
Bridget sighs loudly with annoyance at the noise, her back still turned towards us.
Marty purses her lips at me and I mirror her expression, tears kept at bay. For now.
‘Do you want another one?’ my friend asks in a loud whisper, pressing the call button on her armrest before I can reply.
‘Sure, why not?’ I nod.
‘I’m going to,’ she says, as I knew she would. ‘May as well, seeing as they’re free and all.’
‘Is everything okay, ladies?’
We look up at the air stewardess hovering in the aisle.
‘Could we get another couple of these, please?’ Marty asks.
‘Gin and tonic?’ the air stewardess asks frostily.
‘Them’s the ones,’ Marty replies jauntily, adding, ‘snooty cow,’ under her breath as soon as the woman turns her back. ‘So I reckon, when we arrive,
we’ll just get in the car and drive straight up to Key West.’
‘Down,’ I correct. Her geographical knowledge is probably on a par with a seven-year-old’s, which is funny, considering her job as a travel agent.
‘Whatever. You don’t want to see Miami this arvo, do you? I know Bridge is desperate to
‘It IS him! It’s JOSEPH STRIKE!’
‘AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH! JOSEPH STRIKE!’
‘IT’S JOSEPH STRIKE!’
Joe’s grip on me tightens as he holds me to him. More people appear on the bridge, keen to see if the girls, who are pointing and jumping around like lunatics, are right. The look on their
faces when they recognise Joe… It’s almost comical. But then I see some camera phones come out and I can’t help but give Joe a panicked look.
‘It’s okay,’ he says calmly, rubbing my arm. ‘It’s going to be okay.’
I take a deep breath and look up into his eyes, which are somehow smiling now. ‘Are you ready for this?’ he asks with a raised eyebrow.
‘As I’ll ever be.’
And then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me, while camera flashes go off over our heads.
Read on for a first look
at Paige Toon’s next bestseller
The Longest Holiday
Chapter 1
He’s smiling down at me with tears in his eyes as I say my solemn vow:
‘I, Laura Rose Smythson, take thee, Matthew Christopher Perry, to be my lawful wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward…’
I thought I would never feel like this about anyone ever again. Not after my first love… Not after the heartbreak and the loss and the trying to pick myself back up again… Then I
met Matthew, and I know that he has my heart forever: my perfect, gorgeous, adoring Matthew.
And then I wake up. And I remember that he’s not perfect. He’s so far from perfect that my heart could surely collapse from the pain that instantly engulfs me.
‘Sorry for waking you,’ my friend Marty apologises from beside me as she vigorously rubs at a damp patch on her jeans with a paper napkin. ‘Bridget knocked my effin’
drink over with her fat arse,’ she mutters, as I groggily come to. I look across at Bridget, who’s fast asleep and partially curled up towards the window, her offending arse anything
but fat. Feeling like I’m still in a dream – or, more accurately, a nightmare – I bend down to retrieve my bag from under the seat in front of me. Tissues are the one thing I
did
remember to pack. I would have forgotten my passport if Marty hadn’t reminded me.
‘Thanks,’ Marty says, as I use my Kleenex supply to help mop up the spilt gin and tonic on the tray table. ‘How are you feeling?’ She gives me a sympathetic look and
regards me over the top of her ruby-red horn-rimmed glasses.
‘Don’t,’ I warn, but it’s too late. The lump returns to firmly lodge itself in my throat.
‘Sorry, sorry!’ she says hurriedly before I cry again. ‘Here, quick!’ I take the gin and tonic that she’s proffering – what remains of it, anyway – and
throw it down in one gulp. ‘Think happy thoughts!’ she urges. ‘Think of the sun! Think of the sea! Think of the cocktails on the beach and all of the hot men!’
Bridget sighs loudly with annoyance at the noise, her back still turned towards us.
Marty purses her lips at me and I mirror her expression, tears kept at bay. For now.
‘Do you want another one?’ my friend asks in a loud whisper, pressing the call button on her armrest before I can reply.
‘Sure, why not?’ I nod.
‘I’m going to,’ she says, as I knew she would. ‘May as well, seeing as they’re free and all.’
‘Is everything okay, ladies?’
We look up at the air stewardess hovering in the aisle.
‘Could we get another couple of these, please?’ Marty asks.
‘Gin and tonic?’ the air stewardess asks frostily.
‘Them’s the ones,’ Marty replies jauntily, adding, ‘snooty cow,’ under her breath as soon as the woman turns her back. ‘So I reckon, when we arrive,
we’ll just get in the car and drive straight up to Key West.’
‘Down,’ I correct. Her geographical knowledge is probably on a par with a seven-year-old’s, which is funny, considering her job as a travel agent.
‘Whatever. You don’t want to see Miami this arvo, do you? I know Bridge is desperate to
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