So, we’ve finished writing the sequel to Sister Pact – working title Sister Napped.
Because Frances gets kidnapped. By a cult.
As you do.
And Joni has to come to her rescue….
The book is currently with our fabulous editor Anna and nothing's offical yet but we wanted to post some sneak peeks here to give everyone a little taste of what happens to Joni and Frankie after they leave the Island. Any or all of them may not make the final cut - hell the entire book may be thrown out the window!! - this is just for fun!
Set up - it’s the morning after their arrival in Cairns the previous evening, their first night back in civilisation and on a proper mattress in over a month. Which Nick and Frances have put to very good use.....
Frances woke to the rude shrilling of a telephone the next morning. She cracked open an eyelid, rolled on her side and reached out, groping for the phone in the darkened room.
Nick stirred beside her as Frances tucked her legs up. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder blade and curled himself around her.
“Frances, this is Bernice Trotter, Endurance Island’s publicist, we met briefly yesterday? Your first interview is in an hour.”
Frances groaned. “What time is it?”
“It’s six am.”
“Six?” Frances groaned again. “I thought I was done with rude awakenings?”
She’d lost count of the number of times she and Joni had been woken in the dead of night or crack of dawn for some form of ritual humiliation. She hoped this media stuff wasn’t just another way to make them look like idiots.
“All the morning shows, want a piece of you. I’m sorry.”
Frances didn’t think Bernice sounded very sorry at all. Yesterday, Bernice had reminded her a little of her father’s secretary, Geraldine Merriweather. On the phone, at half past stupid hour, she sounded exactly like the old harridan.
Polite. Unflappable. Immovable.
Good old Gerri (as her father fondly referred to her) had regarded her boss’s daughter’s with spinster-like suspicion and spoken to them with a frosty, unamused, upper-crust voice. Even as an adult, Gerri spoke to Frances as if she were the Queen and Frances was the toe-sucking party girl.
She could quell rebellion or erase sticky finger prints with one look. Like Mary Poppins’s evil twin.
Even Joni had been terrified of her when they’d been kids.
Nick skimmed his palm over her hip and Frances squirmed. “But we came second,” she ended lamely, feeling ten years old again.
“Quite. Make up will be along in twenty minutes.”
“Who’s doing the interview?”
“Someone called Mel and Kochie from Sunrise. I believe they’re the Australian equivalent of Richard and Judy.”
Frances was left in no doubt that Bernice found such a thing laughable. That anything Antipodean could be remotely comparable to the stalwarts of British television was an outrageous transgression.
Nick’s hand drifted lower and Frances eyelids fluttered closed as she lost her place in the conversation.
“Hello? Hello? Are you still there?”
Frances sighed as the imperious voice snapped on a mental chastity belt and tightened it several notches.
“Yes, thank you, Bernice.”
“I’ll see you in the Daintree Room in forty minutes.”
Oh goody, Frances thought as the efficient publicist hung up and she settled back into the curve of Nick’s body. A day with uptight, straitlaced Bernice.
She’d much rather spend the day with easy-going, debauched Nick.
Stay tuned for more snippets from the second book! And if you cant find Sister Pact in your local bookstore please go and ask them to order it in - you'll make our day!