Still Me by Jojo Moyes

The third Lou Clark novel, following the Number One international bestsellers Me Before You and After You.

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Lou Clark knows too many things . . .

She knows how many miles lie between her new home in New York and her new boyfriend Sam in London.

She knows her employer is a good man and she knows his wife is keeping a secret from him.

What Lou doesn't know is she's about to meet someone who's going to turn her whole life upside down.

Because Josh will remind her so much of a man she used to know that it'll hurt.

Lou won't know what to do next, but she knows that whatever she chooses is going to change everything.

Jojo Moyes

Reviews

“ Immensely enjoyable ”

Sunday Times

“ Treads the delicate balance between heartbreak and hope perfectly ”

Good Housekeeping

“ Joyful, with a pitch-perfect ending ”

Daily Express

Paperback

9781405924207

February 5, 2019

Michael Joseph

480 pages

RRP $19.99
Online retailers
Or

Find your local bookstore at booksellers.org.au
Hardback

9780718183189

February 15, 2018

Michael Joseph

480 pages

RRP $45.00
Online retailers
Or

Find your local bookstore at booksellers.org.au
Trade Paperback

9780718183196

January 29, 2018

Michael Joseph

480 pages

RRP $32.99
Online retailers
Or

Find your local bookstore at booksellers.org.au
Audio CD

9781405929370

February 15, 2018

Michael Joseph

RRP $39.99
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EBook

9781405924214

January 25, 2018

Penguin eBooks
Online retailers

Extract

It was the moustache that reminded me I was no longer in England: a solid, grey millipede firmly obscuring the man’s upper lip; a Village People moustache, a cowboy moustache, the miniature head of a broom that meant business. You just didn’t get that kind of moustache at home. I couldn’t tear my eyes from it.

‘Ma’am?’

The only person I had ever seen with a moustache like that at home was Mr Naylor, our maths teacher, and he collected Digestive crumbs in his – we used to count them during algebra.

‘Ma’am?’

‘Oh. Sorry.’

The man in the uniform motioned me forward with a flick of his stubby finger. He did not look up from his screen. I waited at the booth, long-haul sweat drying gently into my shirt. He held up his hand, waggling four fat fingers. This, I grasped after several seconds, was a demand for my passport.