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reissue
AUSTRALIA & NZ April 2008
is available from Amazon.co.uk
EXCERPTS
ORIGINAL COVERS
BACKLIST BOOKS
Have you read all of Liz's backlist books? Not sure? Check out the titles here.
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In THE CORPORATE BRIDEGROOM, banker Niall Macauley and PR Director Romana Claibourne get off to a very bad start, but he quickly learns that writing her off as a “dumb blonde” is not a smart move. But then Romana has a few things to learn about him, too.
Jewellery designer and academic, Flora Claibourne doesn’t want to get involved and grabs at an invitation to give her opinion on the newly discovered treasures of on the tropical island of Saraminda. But in THE MARRIAGE MERGER, international corporate lawyer, Bram Gifford is always one step ahead of her. He’s less than impressed by his dowdy companion and she has a particular aversion to playboys, but they both discover that first impression are not always the right ones.
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AUSTRALIA & NZ May 2008
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While to her sisters, Claibourne & Farraday is important, for India Claibourne, this elegant department store is her life and she’ll do anything it takes to defeat THE TYCOON’S TAKEOVER plans. She’s sure that arrogant venture capitalist, Jordan Farraday, will sell the store to the first big chain that makes him offer. Jordan, however, has more than a department store on his mind. He’s looking to settle old scores and for that he’ll be content with nothing less that India Claibourne at his feet.
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ROMANA Claibourne, juggling a desperately needed carton of her favourite coffee, a small leather overnight bag and a couple of designer carriers, searched her handbag for her wallet in a state of rising panic. Not that the panic was entirely due to her missing wallet, or even Niall Farraday Gifford’s annoying decision to make his presence felt on today of all days.In spite of anything her sister might believe, there were worse things in the world than men with Farraday in their name. Worse even than being late.That was nothing new – she’d never been early for anything. Yet India’s crisp little voice mail message this morning had been very clear on one point. Punctuality was essential. Niall Macaulay wanted to discuss shadowing arrangements with her at twelve o’clock sharp and she was to drop everything and be on time. Nothing – not even the opening event in Claibourne & Farraday’s annual charity week -- was more important. This was a crisis.And this was the good part of her day.‘Sorry…’ She threw an apologetic glance at the cab driver. ‘I know it’s in here somewhere. I had it when I picked up –‘‘In your own time, miss,’ the man replied, cutting short her shopping list. ‘I’ve got all day.’She glanced up. ‘Have you?’ Then, realising he was being sarcastic, she pulled a face and redoubled her efforts to find the elusive wallet. She knew she’d had it when she picked up her dress because she’d used her charge card. Then, after she’d got India’s message, coffee had seemed essential and she’d needed change to pay for it.She re-ran the scene in her head. She’d ordered, paid and stuffed the wallet into her pocket…Her relief was short-lived.Reaching into the depths of her coat was just one stretch too far and the coffee carton made an escape bid.Hitting the pavement it bounced, spun and then the lid flew off, releasing a hot tide of latte. Romana watched as, in what seemed like slow-motion, it washed over the gleaming, handmade shoes of a passing male before splashing spectacularly up the legs of his trousers.The shoes, the legs, came to a halt. The carton was picked up on the point of a furled silk black umbrella and she followed its progress until it came to a stop six inches from the second button of her coat.‘Yours, I believe,’ the owner of the trousers said.She took the carton. A mistake. It was now wet and sticky and the apology which had leapt instantly to her lips transformed itself into a disgusted, ‘Eeeugh.’And then -- mistake number two -- she looked up and nearly dropped it again. He was everything a tall, dark stranger could and should be and for a moment she froze, quite literally, lost for words. Apologise. She must apologise. And find out who he was.Even as she opened her mouth, she realised that far from being impressed by his unexpected encounter with one of the most sought after women in London, the man’s expression encompassed entire sections of Roget’s Thesaurus involving the words “stupid”, “blonde” and “woman” and the apology died on her lips.It didn’t matter. He clearly wasn’t interested in anything she might have to say and had already turned and was walking quickly through the gilded portal of Claibourne & Farraday, leaving her on the pavement with her mouth still open.
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What is going on at Claibourne & Farraday? Following the retirement of Peter Claibourne last month, it’s rumoured that London’s most stylish department store has become a war zone, with the Claibournes and the Farradays in a battle to control the boardroom. The two families each own forty-nine percent of the store, with the remaining “golden share” of two percent passing to the oldest male heir of either family and with it total control over the future of the company. The lovely Claibourne girls, who have been part of the store since their pictures appeared in C&F’s first mail order catalogue for nursery furniture, have cited equality in the workplace and refused to move over. Confident of their position, I am informed that they have invited the Farradays to “shadow” them during the next few months, promising to step down if the men can do a better job. Today’s surprise announcement of the marriage of Romana Claibourne, youngest of the Claibourne girls, to Niall Farraday Macaulay in a brief ceremony in Las Vegas would suggest that one Farraday was so impressed with the woman he was shadowing that he married her. With Bram Farraday Gifford about to take his turn shadowing jewellery designer and academic, Florence Claibourne, we await the outcome with considerable interest. Watch this space.
MEMORANDUM From: J D FARRADAY To: BRAM FARRADAY GIFFORD Subject: CLAIBOURNE & FARRADAY
Bram, the Claibourne girls are playing dirty. If Romana Claibourne was able to subvert Niall to their cause, she must be a lot cleverer than she looks. Florence Claibourne, as you will see from the file I’m biking over to you, just looks clever. Since the gloves are now off, I see no reason why you shouldn’t employ your infamous charm to even the score.
From: Dr T Myan, Director of Antiquities, Saraminda To: Florence Claibourne, London
My dear Miss Claibourne You will no doubt have seen sensational reports of the discovery of a rich burial in Saraminda. As you can guess, we have been overwhelmed with requests from journalists wishing to view this “lost princess” as they have dubbed her. As a matter of urgency my Government has asked me to approach you, as an authority on ancient jewellery and the author of “Ashanti Gold”, to write about the treasure. Your combination of scholarship and vivid writing would put this truly extraordinary find above lurid exploitation. I would be grateful if you could respond by return. Your honoured friend Tipi Myan FAXFrom: INDIA CLAIBOURNE To: BRAM GIFFORD Subject: WORK SHADOWING
Miss Florence Claibourne will be travelling to Saraminda on Wednesday 1st May on a work-related project. Since you will be shadowing her during that month I have made arrangements for you to travel with her. I attach an itinerary for your information. A car will collect you and deliver you to the airport in good time for the flight. Should you have any queries, please call this office.
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INDIA took another deep breath before she pushed open the door to the nursery department. She seemed to be doing that a lot this morning but it was fortunate that her lungs were loaded with air, because she didn’t breath again for what seemed like an age. J D Farraday was the kind of man who would always make the need to breathe redundant. He didn’t court publicity, but she’d gathered what information she could about the man. The grainy photographs from the financial pages of heavyweight newspapers, had suggested an averagely good-looking, dark-haired man in his mid to late thirties. They didn’t do him justice. There was nothing average about Jordan Farraday. His features were arranged in the conventional manner, it was true, but the combination achieved something far from ordinary. There was something about him that transcended mere good looks. As if that were not enough, he was taller, his hair darker – the touch of silver at his temple only emphasising just how dark – than just tall, or just dark. But that was the superficial, obvious stuff. What set her midriff trembling like a joke jelly, prickled her scalp and set up the tiny hairs on her skin, was the way he dominated the room, the way every person in it was looking to him for guidance, leadership. Jordan Farraday was the archetypal dominant male. Alpha man. Leader of the pack. The kind of man who would always make other men appear ordinary, who would attract women like iron filings to a magnet. In short, he was the most exciting man she’d set eyes on in months … years … possibly ever … And she’d taken him on in a winner takes all battle for control of Claibourne & Farraday.
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From "BOARDROOM BRIDEGROOMS" by Liz Fielding |
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home | liz's books | about Liz | about wales | about writing | blog | links | contact
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lizfielding.com
sparkling, emotional,
feel-good romance
