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Motherhood isn’t for everyone …

Some are born to be great mums, some achieve greatness, and some have motherhood thrust upon them.

Ambitious, independent and happily child-free, Anna Harding isn't worried when her best friend, Helena, unexpectedly falls pregnant. After all, she's living the expat high life in London with her boyfriend, Finn, while Helena is on the other side of the world in sleepy Adelaide. Anna's not even fazed when Helena asks her to be the baby's godmother. How hard can it be from 15,000km away?

But when a depressed Helena turns up on Anna's doorstep, begging her to look after baby Ivy while she escapes to Scotland to get her head together, the dirty nappies really hit the fan. How can newspaper gossip columnist Anna carry on her A-list lifestyle with a screaming kid in tow - especially when her job is at risk and Finn ups and moves to Ireland in pursuit of his own dream career?

With Helena swept up in her new life in Scotland, Anna fears she'll be left holding the baby for good - until her grumpy neighbour, Luke, unexpectedly emerges as her go-to infant expert. Maybe pseudo-parenthood isn't so bad after all...

Formats & editions

  • Trade Paperback

    9780143785606

    May 1, 2017

    Michael Joseph

    304 pages

    RRP $32.99

    Online retailers

    • Abbey's Bookshop
    • Angus & Robertson Bookworld
    • Booktopia
    • Boomerang Books
    • Collins Booksellers
    • Dymocks
    • Books Kinokuniya
    • The Nile
    • QBD
    • Readings
    • Robinsons Bookshop
    Or

    Find your local bookstore at booksellers.org.au

  • EBook

    9781743484982

    June 16, 2014

    Penguin eBooks

    304 pages

    Online retailers

    • iBooks
    • Amazon Kindle
    • Booktopia
    • eBooks
    • Google Play
    • Kobo
    Or

    Find your local bookstore at booksellers.org.au

Extract

I want to throttle her. I want to reach across the oceans and continents between us, grab her by her pudgy neck and squeeze it until her eyeballs bulge like a goldfish’s. I want to shake her by the shoulders until she’s dizzy. I want to slap her, scream at her, clench my fists and stamp my feet until she realises what a colossal idiot she is. Instead, I employ my extensive journalistic vocabulary and say, ‘Huh?’

‘I said I’m pregnant,’ Helena repeats patiently. ‘Sixteen weeks along.’

‘Sixteen weeks! And you’re only telling me now?’

Pregnant. Just the word sends chills up my spine.

She sighs. ‘Well, I only found out myself at twelve weeks. And I’ve been trying to speak to you for a month. Haven’t you got my phone messages or my emails? You’re not the easiest person to get hold of, Anna.’

Continue Reading

Also by Laura Greaves

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Two Weeks 'til Christmas
Incredible Dog Journeys
The Ex-Factor

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