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Samantha knows what she wants from life – and she’s got it!
1 A loving family. OK, her Mum’s plan to marry her off to the world’s most metrosexual man might not be ideal… but it’s only because she cares! 2 A great job. Or at least: a job that leaves plenty of time to update Twitter and shop for designer bargains online. 3 A credit card, with a very generous limit. So generous that she’s just spent over $10,000 on an antique kimono… But suddenly Samantha’s charmed life starts to fall apart! From a hair-related fire to losing her job, Sam’s facing bad karma – and it all started when she bought that kimono… Sure, it’s ridiculous. How could a piece of silk ever bring bad luck? But it can! Because, whether Samantha likes it or not, someone wants to teach her a lesson: it’s what’s inside that counts.
But will Samantha slow down long enough to listen?
Snake Typhoon!
Mexican Kimono
Billie Jones HQ An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014 Copyright © Billie Jones 2014 Billie Jones asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. E-book Edition © September 2014 ISBN: 9781474007726 Version date: 2018-07-02
BILLIE JONES
is a writer from Australia, who enjoys imagining herself wrestling killer crocodiles and swimming with great white sharks. She thinks she may have to attempt base jumping so she can write about it and bungee-jumping is on the list too. You can find her either in front of her computer writing about her fictional adventures or at the beach searching for the next perfect wave.
Contents
Book List Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two The Kimono I never dreamed I’d spend $10,300 on a whim. It was a lot, even for me: shopper extraordinaire. On reflection, if I had ignored Mum’s pleas, I would still be $10,000 better off. Or MasterCard would be. Let me take you back to how it all began. Usually I caught the train home after work, but late in the day, while doing a stapler stocktake for my penny-pinching boss, I received an urgent phone call from my mother. I sighed when I saw her name on the screen. She had become ‘alternative’ in the last few years and it had begun to wear me down. Tarot cards, numerology, runes, crystals, incense, cheesecloth, the whole cliché. I silenced it and let Mum visit voicemail again. I was sure those two were developing an intense relationship. Mum rang and poured her heart out at least thrice daily and voicemail just listened. I reapplied my lipstick in the reflection of my shiny silver holepunch, as I listened back to the message. ‘Darling, it’s Mum. I need to see you urgently! The tea leaves have scattered a caution for you and they’re always right. Heed my warning. I won’t rest until I see you. You must come over after work, Samantha. I insist. I’ll make you some of that vegetarian bolognese you love and I have a bottle of that alcohol-free red wine that will go perfectly, so don’t bring anything. Oh heed my warning, darling, heed…’ I shook my head as I listened to the recording. Voicemail had cut her off. Maybe they weren’t as friendly as I thought. My mother’s message sounded like a desperate cry for help. Vegetarian bolognese and alcohol-free wine? Heed my warning? Who says that? That woman needed an injection of reality. She was my mother though, so I neatened up my desk, ready to leave the office at five on the dot. I worked as an assistant to an advertising executive. He was a volatile beast of a man who smelt of garlic. I answered the phone, made coffee and remembered his appointments. On my worst days, I went shopping for him. He didn’t
