Standalone Bundle

Three heart-warming stories humorously exploring love, sex and finding yourself even when the odds are stacked against you.

Never Again

Not even a year after marrying the guy she'd thought was the love of her life, Cora Knowles is already requesting a divorce. To her recollection, philandering was not a part of her wedding vows, and she wasn't about to stand by while 'Sally from accounts' rolled about on her Egyptian cotton sheets. 

While trying to soothe her broken heart with copious amounts of cake and liqueur chocolates, her best friend, Olivia suggests that the best way to get over someone, is to get under someone else. Problems arise when the one Cora 'gets under' turns out to be the the son of the Director of Prosecution—her boss. Worse still, he's young. Younger than Cora originally thought, and younger than she's comfortable with. 

But, when the attraction is undeniable, Cora needs to decide whether she'll turn her back on the enigmatic Brandon Sharp, or take a risk and follow her heart, even though she promised herself she'd never do that again...

In the Wind 

This summer is Dawn's last chance to enjoy the seaside town she calls home before following her five-year plan. With looming university preparations, and a planned declaration of love to her best friend Zeke on the horizon, Dawn feels like her final months at home are going to be her best yet.

Until a summer storm arrives, bringing with it a girl who dances in the rain and gives zero fucks about anything. Her arrival shakes up Dawn's carefully crafted path, opening her eyes to new possibilities beyond the sheltered life she planned.

Thank god she still has Luke, the widowed manager of the local bar, to talk to. Otherwise she'd be completely alone…

Darcy Comes First (for a change)

Single mother Darcy is in need of a new start after being served divorce papers when her husband learns he isn’t dying and wants to be free instead. Moving in with her eccentric grandmother in the seaside town of Bayside, Darcy hopes for peace and quiet as she rebuilds her life.

What she isn’t expecting to find is a set of saggy man parts upon arrival. 

Needing to bleach her eyes, calm her screaming teen daughter and stop her eight year old son from filming the chaos to upload, Darcy is already reconsidering the sanity in her decision. Turns out, Nana is quite the player in the retirement circle.

With two kids to support and more drama than she bargained for, even a chance could prove too much for Darcy. Luckily, the ex-rugby player next door is there to help. Leo sees her for who she really is, and he isn’t the kind of man who gives up easily.

(Never Again)

I never understood the desire to put your pain on social media for everyone to see. My Facebook feed was full of people lamenting the world—fuck this, fuck that, fuck my existence—it was never ending. For me, social media was about sharing the best of my life and spying on other people’s. That’s why, when I found out my scumbag of a husband was cheating on me, I didn’t share a single tidbit of information with the world. I quietly changed my relationship status from ‘married’ to ‘it’s complicated’, then proceeded to cut the crotch out of every single pair of pants he owned. 

Only my closest friends and family bore witness to my FML moments, because they were the ones who understood, the ones who mattered. Whenever my life fell apart, they picked me up and put me back together again. My mother would bake me chocolate brownies and tell me that everything was going to be OK, and my very best friend, Olivia, would shake me by the shoulders and remind me I’m a queen. “Queens don’t stay down,” she’d say. 

All Facebook ever got was a rare photo of me looking my best. Like today, while I sat with Olivia outside a quaint Melbourne patisserie on our lunch break. My hair and makeup was on point, my lipstick a bold red, while the sun provided the lighting—a rarity on a cold day in July.

"Hashtag that one 'slaying life'," Olivia suggested. "That bastard will see how happy you look and realise how badly he fucked up." She sucked back on a cigarette then blew the smoke out in a rush. “Come to think of it. We need to go out tonight. That will really piss him off. You can post photos and everything.” 

“Go out?” The idea seemed completely insane to me. 

She stubbed out her cigarette in a small aluminium ashtray. “Yes, Cora. I love you, and I think you’re gorgeous, but lying on my couch for months on end, eating liqueur chocolates while watching Netflix isn’t doing a thing for your figure.” 

“Jack always said that saying ‘but’ meant you could discount everything that was said before it.” 

She picked up her Prada handbag and slid it over her arm. “Fuck Jack. You should discount everything he ever said to you before the moment you saw his butt as he pumped that Sally woman from behind in your marital bed.” 

My stomach soured at the memory. “Don’t remind me.” I’d been expecting to work late on a case but was able to take some work home instead. Thinking it’d be nice to surprise Jack and have dinner together, I hadn’t called ahead. I just picked up his favourite takeaway and a bottle of wine. With the word ‘surprise’ on the tip of my tongue, I entered the house. But the surprise was on me. The moment I walked in, I could hear them: “Harder! Harder!”, coupled with the slapping of wet bodies. I knew what I was walking in on before I saw it—the sight of my partner of eleven years, my husband for one, fucking some woman from behind, slapping her arse like she was some kind of rodeo cow. 

Driven by rage, I threw the food and my handbag at him, sending rice and beef in black bean sauce all over the place. Then, I smashed him in the side of the head with the only thing I had left in my hands—my laptop. The resulting injury had been enough for him to take out an intervention order against me that forced me from my house and almost lost me my job. Instead, I’d been taken off my cases and made the babysitter to the junior solicitors until this mess was sorted out. It made me feel sick every time I thought about it. 

“Come on, stop thinking about that arsehole. We’ll get your intervention order thrown out of court the moment it goes before the magistrate. Then you’ll get your cases back and your house. Then life will start to feel normal again.” 

“Don’t you think taking a Crown Prosecutor with me to a magistrate hearing is a bit of overkill?” Standing, I noticed my skirt was feeling a little tight around the mid-section. Maybe I did need to lay off those chocolates…

“Considering I know every judge in the city and have slept with more than half of them, taking me is probably the best thing you could do,” she assured me. “Once we’re done with that bullshit order, we’ll get you a quickie divorce, leave him with nothing but a set of stomped-on balls, and then you’ll become single and amazing like me.” 

I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“And I’m serious about tonight,” she added, hitting the button to activate the crosswalk. “There’s nothing better in this world than having young men fall all over you. We’ll pick the hottest nightclub in town and when some twenty-something picks you up, you’ll forget all about Jack-Arse.” 

“You seem to be forgetting that I am a twenty-something.” 

She scoffed as the lights changed and we crossed. “Barely. Twenty-nine is practically thirty—which you will be in November, I might add.” 

“Says the woman who has been twenty-nine for eleven years.” 

“That’s why I’m an expert on the subject.” 

Chuckling at her response, I shook my head, loving her candour. Olivia was over a decade older than me. We became friends when I first started working for the OPP—the Office of Public Prosecution—straight out of university. She was a barrister and had become my mentor after we worked on our first case together. Then, our personalities clicked and we became the best of friends in the years that followed. 

“And I’m talking about men—well, boys, I suppose—who are barely twenty and a day. They’re outstanding in the sack, super eager to please. I once had a nineteen-year-old who went all night. I was exhausted the next day but deliciously sore in all the right places. I swear they’re all vying for the lover of the year award, and the best part about it is they don’t want any kind of connection or relationship.”

“Nineteen is a bit young for me. I don’t think I could go below twenty-five.”

“Don’t get caught up with the numbers, darling. It’s a catch, fuck, and release program. Age doesn’t matter—as long as they’re legal—but size definitely matters. I’m going to get you acquainted with the new way of dating.” 

“I thought Tinder was the new way of dating?” 

“Tinder is full of false advertising and disappointing reality. This is Olivia’s way.” She pointed at herself, amusement in her eyes. “By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll never, ever want to be married again. You’ll be having far too much fun being single and free.” 

Olivia had been married twice. One ended when it turned out her husband preferred men, and the other ended when he wanted children and she didn’t. Now, she swore that the single life was the only life worth living. 

“Well, I kind of have to get divorced, first.” 

“Formalities.” She waved her hand about in the air. “It takes a year of separation before you can file for divorce. You can’t quit having a sex life because of that tiny technicality. Right now, you are separated, which is the same thing as being single. I was always on Ross’s side; he and Rachel were definitely on a break. Besides, I doubt Jack is too concerned.”

“I suppose you’re right. I just feel weird about the idea of being with someone else. Eleven years with the same man is a long time.” 

“All the more reason to get back on that bike. It’s not like you have to remember much. All the same parts go into the same holes. And when your heart is broken, the best way to feel better is to fuck someone who is so beautiful you could die.” 

“This doesn’t feel anything like something I want to do,” I responded, smiling at her advice as we headed into our building on Lonsdale Street. I hadn’t been to a nightclub since my early days at university. I never dreamed I’d want to step foot inside one again. But then, I hadn’t thought that I’d be single after spending eleven years of my life committed to the same man either. The fact he so easily threw that all away for a measly fuck really got my goat. I had never looked at another man and was bloody devastated that he thought so little of me. Worse, that he also screwed that bitch in my bed! I couldn’t imagine he’d have the gall to take her to our home for their first time, so how many times had I slept on those sheets after he’d been fucking her on them? My stomach twisted at the thought. I was going to develop an ulcer. 

“It’s exactly something you should do,” Olivia rebutted, lowering her voice once we were in the lobby so nosy ears weren’t listening in. “Trust me on this, Cora. I’ve had more relationship breakups than you’ve had birthdays. And, have I ever steered you wrong?” 

I thought back to the time she convinced me that I needed to own every colour Mac lipstick they had in store. We maxed out my credit card in about thirty minutes flat. “No. You haven’t,” I replied, smiling. Buying those lipsticks had been a costly venture, and I’d needed to install new cabinets to store them all. But I had zero regrets over following her advice. I loved every one of those damn things. 

Scanning her ID card to open the main door, she grinned, triumphant. “Then we need to get out of here early so we can buy you a dress.”