The Last Day of Winter - blog tour

BLOG TOUR

The Last Day of Winter – Shari Low

About the author

Shari Low is the No1 best-selling author of over 20 novels, including With Or Without You, Another Day In Winter, One Day In December, A Life Without You, This Is Me and The Story Of Our Life. And because she likes to over-share toe-curling moments and hapless disasters, she is also the shameless mother behind a collection of parenthood memories called Because Mummy Said So. Once upon a time she met a guy, got engaged after a week, and twenty-something years later she lives near Glasgow with her husband, a labradoodle, and two teenagers who think she's fairly embarrassing except when they need a lift. 

EXTRACT

Dum dum de dum, dum dum de dum.

The vicar opened his sleek leather Bible as the congregation, the women resplendent in deep jewel tones befitting a winter wedding, turned to watch the bride slowly glide down the aisle. The diamanté edged veil that covered her face scanned from left to right and back again, as if the eyes beneath it were taking in the beaming smiles, the tissues being dabbed under brush-like eyelash extensions, the hats so large they could double as manhole covers and the men who were surreptitiously checking their watches to see if there was any chance of getting out of there and to a TV before the game started on Sky Sports.

The steps of her ivory shoes slowed as she neared the front, where her groom waited. Her soulmate. Her best friend. And all the other clichés that almost every bride spouted about the man she was marrying.

He reached over, lifted her veil and there she was… Caro could hear her own screams now as she took in the scene. It was her father who had lifted the veil, and it was her mother who was standing there at the end of the aisle, dressed in white, her face now revealed, her lips moving… ‘Don’t do it, Caro,’ she was saying. ‘Please don’t get married.’

There was a fearful gasp as Caro sat bolt upright in bed, her whole body in panicked fight or flight mode. Racing pulse. Shaking hands. Chest tighter than a bride’s corset. Every night this week, the same dream – every morning the same reactions. Fear. Dread. Denial. Panic. Realisation. Then a whole lot more fear, dread and panic.

The sound of her rapid breathing was loud enough to stir half of her duo of comatose bridesmaids, the one that was sleeping beside her on the superking bed.

Summoning huge effort, Chrissie managed to open one eye, but it came at the price of a loud groan, followed by a hoarse, ‘Are you okay? Holy crap, what did we drink last night?’

Caro paused, the deafening thud of her beating heart drowning out everything else. Until that moment she hadn’t realised that it was even possible to hear the functions of her internal organs. ‘Tequila,’ she murmured, wincing. ‘That might be why I can still hear a mariachi band banging in my skull.’

With a low moan of pain, Chrissie pushed herself up until her back rested against the headboard. Her chestnut hair looked like something eagles would nest in. The previous night’s make-up gave her a waxy look that wouldn’t be out of place in any Netflix series featuring the undead. And her red silk shirt, so sexy the night before, had lost some of its on-point style now that it was on backwards and adorned with a scarlet garland of tinsel procured from an unsuspecting tree in the early hours of the morning.

‘You should FaceTime Ben,’ Caro muttered, referring to Chrissie’s fourteen year old son. ‘It would save you the next few years of lecturing him about the evils of alcohol. One sight of us and he’ll never touch the stuff.’

‘Yeah, but he’d be scarred for life and it would cost me a fortune in therapy.’ Chrissie tried to shake her head, but realised the error of her ways when a searing pain shot through her left temple. ‘Ouch! I’m going to have to face forwards for the rest of my life.’ She continued speaking, using staccato words with absolutely no head movement. ‘Anyway, Happy Wedding Day, Mrs Cammy-To-Be. I would have said your new surname, but I think I’ve got amnesia.’

‘Jones,’ Caro murmured. How many times had she said that name in her head, yet still it didn’t feel real. Caro Jones. Mrs Caro Jones. Wife of Cameron Jones, commonly known as Cammy. Love of her life. Best friend. Easy on the eye.

Follow Shari

Website: www.sharilow.com

Twitter: @ShariLow

Facebook: @sharilowbooks

About the book

One December wedding. One runaway bride. One winter's day to bring everyone together again.

Today is the day Caro and Cammy are due to walk up the aisle. But Caro's too caught up in the trauma of her past to contemplate their happy ever after.

Stacey's decision to return from L.A. is fuelled by one thing – telling Cammy how she feels, before it's too late.

Wedding planner, Josie, needs to sort the whole mess out, but she's just been dealt some devastating news. Can she get through the day without spilling her secret?

On a chilly winter's day, they have twenty-four hours to prove that love can lead the way to a brighter future...

Perfect for fans of Isabelle Broom, Sarah Morgan and Amanda Prowse.

Buy links:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2HWoiYA

Kobo: https://bit.ly/2Zq1KFD

iBooks: https://apple.co/2ZssftV

Google Play: https://bit.ly/2ZxvpMR

Follow Aria

Website: www.ariafiction.com

Twitter: @aria_fiction

Facebook: @ariafiction

Instagram: @ariafiction