And you can join her.
And you don't even have to pay for an air-ticket.
Go on, click that button, treat yourself, you know you deserve it.
And if you need further encouragement, how about a free snippet.
We arrive at the peripheries of
the star-studded gathering. Both of us have fixated grins, the type only ever
seen in The Stepford Wives. Yes, we’re
that bad. For some reason Paige continues to talk like a ventriloquist.
‘Don’t
glower, just be nonchalant.’
I
look at her in disbelief; a bubbling desire to giggle has started in my
stomach. I cough inadvertently and make the strangest noise. It’s no good, my
bodily functions are overrun with giggles.
‘What
the hell?’ Paige looks at me with annoyance, her face still suffering from
degenerate rigor mortis.
‘Frog
… in throat!’ I can’t catch my breath.
COUGH … COUGH … Splutter … panicked gulps. COUGH … COUGH.
My
eyes and nose start streaming, my make-up starts to run. Oh shit!
THUD!
The shock of a hand
hitting the middle of my back stops my coughing fit.
What the ...?
I
look at Paige and she is staring at me in horror. I dab my eyes with my fingers
and turn around. The hand is attached to a man who, in my estimation, in my three-inch
heels, must be six foot two or three. I can’t see or read his expression, too
much beardy hair in the way.
‘Better?’
‘Thanks,
you could have dislodged an elephant’s tusk with that slap!’
He gives me the once-over
and just raises his eyebrows and says nothing.
I stare at him, feeling somewhat irritated and
exhilarated at the same time. 
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