#No Filter

Maxine Morrey

Description

'A lovely story that kept me turning the pages' Jules WakeIn an Instagram world, can you find love just by being yourself…

Popular lifestyle blogger, Libby Cartwright, is being boggled by business when help shows up in the shape of gorgeous but shy, Charlie Richmond. Libby’s determined to keep it at ‘just good friends’ – she’s dated someone from ‘Corporate Land’ before and it didn’t end well. As she and Charlie begin spending more time together, Libby is starting to waver – until she discovers something which makes her question if she’s ready for love.

Still reeling, she suffers another blow as her blog is attacked in a national newspaper, for promoting unachievable perfection. Libby knows it’s not true – but the only way to prove that is to strip off the armour she’s been wearing for years.

Is she brave enough to show the world she’s far from perfect? And will Charlie be by her side if she does…

A gloriously funny, wise, heart-warming and romantic read for all fans of Lindsey Kelk and Mhairi Macfarlane, from the author of the bestselling Winter’s Fairytale.

What readers are saying about #No Filter

'A glorious love story for the modern age with a message we all need to hear.'

'Utterly captivating!'

'I simply could not put this book down.'

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Thriller
• Humorous
• Women
• Men
• Contemporary history
• Romantic Comedy
• General officer
• Woman
• The Women
• General
• Holiday
• Contemporary
• Topic
• Romance
• Fiction
• Humour

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 07 novembre 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781838890308
• Langue: English

Extrait

#No Filter


Maxine Morrey
For James
Contents



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40


Acknowledgments

More from Maxine Morrey

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
1

‘That’s it! I am totally going to jail. I’m going to get it wrong, owe thousands, not be able to pay, and go to jail!’ I flung myself backwards with an overly dramatic sigh and lay sprawled on the paperwork I had been looking at. ‘And seriously? Me in an orange jumpsuit? I don’t care how on trend they are; I could never pull that off! Orange is so not my colour.’
Amy topped up her wine glass before reaching a hand down to grab my arm, tugging me in the direction of the sofa. I slid along the floor for a few moments in my prone position, like some sort of beached, four-legged starfish, until I eventually bumped into the furniture.
‘I think that’s more America, hon,’ she said, yanking me upwards. ‘I’m not sure what ours are like. Something much more subtle, I expect. And don’t worry. I’ll hide a file inside the first cake I bring you. You’ll be out in no time.’
I paused in my clambering from the floor onto the sofa, and gave her a look. She made a sawing motion with one hand, accompanied by an over-exaggerated wink as she held out my wine glass. Flopping onto the couch, I took the glass and swigged a large mouthful, before laying my head back onto the soft cushions.
‘Seriously though. I really don’t know what I’m doing with this. I thought I was handling all this business stuff OK until now.’
‘And you are!’ Amy interjected. ‘Your blog is doing amazingly well! I can’t believe the difference in a year – it’s incredible! Seriously, Libs, you should really be proud of yourself.’
I sighed. ‘Thanks, Ames. And I am, and of Tilly. I couldn’t have done it without her. But I’m so frustrated! I’ve taken on this insane learning curve and, for the most part, got the hang of things. I think. But this?’ I kicked a piece of paper with my bare toes. ‘This, I just cannot get my head round! Why does tax have to be so bloody complicated? They send you this stuff so that you are supposedly able to do it yourself, but write it in the most confusing language possible! How is that even remotely helpful?’
Amy just shook her head and took another sip of wine.
‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. I guess I need to start looking for an accountant.’ I twiddled the wine glass stem in my hand.
Amy leant over and bumped her head gently on my shoulder. ‘You know; it is OK to ask people for help sometimes. We can’t all be amazing at everything. Creating all this in such a short space of time is brilliant, Libby. Finding that you need some extra expertise in one area is perfectly acceptable, and perfectly normal.’
‘I guess.’ I put the glass down. ‘Before I forget, I have something for you.’
Immediately, Amy sat up straighter in anticipation and her eyes watched me as I crossed to the other side of the room and picked up a small, but fancy, cardboard bag with intricately twisted rope handles and a swirly script logo on the side. Walking back over to the sofa, I plopped the bag down on Amy’s lap.
‘Did I ever tell you that going for it with this lifestyle blog business is the best thing that you’ve ever done?’
I laughed. ‘You just like the freebies.’
‘True,’ Amy agreed, before letting out an ‘ooh’ of pleasure at the eyeshadow palette and perfume she’d just pulled out of the bag.
‘But thanks anyway.’
‘Any time. Oh!’ Amy’s eyes shone like those of a child who’d just won pass the parcel. ‘Really? I can have this?’ Without waiting for confirmation, Amy began excitedly spritzing the exclusive new perfume copiously on pretty much every pulse point she could reach, including mine.
Laughing, I lifted my wrist up to take another waft of the fragrance. It really was gorgeous. I smiled as my friend rummaged in the bag, unwrapping the various goodies from their pretty tissue-paper packaging. The cosmetic companies often sent more samples than I could possibly use so I always made sure my assistant got some to review and regularly ran giveaways on the blog, as a thank you to my readers. But occasionally I still had extra goodies left over. Amy always loved a good freebie so when I had something spare, it meant I got to make my best friend happy.
As the fumes of Amy’s fragrance enthusiasm began getting a little pungent, I pushed myself up and padded over to the doors that led out onto the balcony. Grabbing the handle, I slid the door to the side. Immediately, a warm breeze rushed in from the sea, dissipating the perfume, and bringing with it the screech of seagulls intertwined with chatter and laughter from the nearby bars and restaurants in the marina. I stepped out, grabbing a wide-brimmed, slightly battered straw hat off the nearby console table, and took a seat on one of the two wooden steamer chairs that resided on my balcony. Amy followed me out, wine glass in hand, the gift bag now swinging off her wrist.
If I was honest, the furniture was a squeeze and a trendy little bistro set would have been a better, more sensible option. I’d made the classic mistake of ‘guesstimating’ that they would fit perfectly on the balcony. They didn’t and I’d ended up building them in situ like some sort of furniture Jenga, which had proved to be the only way of getting them both to fit on there. But I loved them. I didn’t want a trendy little bistro set. The loungers were super comfy with full-length padded cushions, and reclined just enough without touching the glass. I could sit out here and read in comfort, watching the boats sway and bob gently in the marina, listening as the sound of waves bumping against the harbour wall carried across the water. Even in winter, when the wind howled and the sea reared up before crashing down forcefully onto the nearby beach, I would happily sit out here, wrapped up against the cold, just absorbing it all.
There was definitely no need for coats and scarves this evening. It seemed that spring had decisively handed off the baton early to summer and the new season was away and running. The evening was warm and the breeze soft as Amy and I, now having inelegantly climbed onto our respective loungers, sat back and sighed happily.
‘Thanks for all this, Libs.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ I replied. Forgetting my worries for a while, and with a smile on my face, I closed my eyes, soaking up the atmosphere as the gentle warmth of the setting sun caressed our skin.



Closing the Twitter app, I leaned over, grabbed my handbag and proceeded to tip the contents out onto my desk. Tilly, my part-time assistant, looked up from where she’d been leafing through the latest issue of Vogue that had dropped through the door this morning. She raised an eyebrow in question.
‘Apparently it’s national “What’s in your handbag?” day. I thought we could join in,’ I replied, poking the pile of stuff now in front of me.
‘We?’
‘Yes.’ I paused, looking over at her. ‘Why not? You haven’t got a loaded weapon in there, have you? Or half a kilo of cocaine?’
‘No! Of course not!’
‘I’m joking, Tils. You just looked decidedly shifty when I mentioned it. It’s fine if you don’t want to do it, anyway. It’s not compulsory.’ I grinned, before turning my attention back to the contents of my bag. A tampon sat proudly in the middle of the pile. I chewed my lip for a moment, and then snagged the item out and put it to the side.
I noticed Tilly watching me.
‘So, we can edit what’s in there?’ she asked.
I raised a brow. ‘I don’t think the world needs to see my emergency sanitary items. There’s sharing and there’s over-sharing.’
Tilly waited a beat before grabbing her own bag and turning it upside down on her own desk.
‘Holy crap, Tils!’ I laughed. ‘How do you even carry all that without tipping over?’
‘I keep meaning to clear it out and never seem to get around to it.’
‘Apparently. Well, why don’t you take this as an opportunity? Sort out what you want in there and then we can just post the “after” rather than the “before”.’
Tilly pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure you should be paying me for sorting out my handbag.’
I waved her protest away.
A grin slipped onto Tilly’s face. ‘OK.’
For the next twenty minutes, there were several exclamations of the ‘Bloody hell, I’ve been looking for that forever’ and ‘Oh, I wondered where that had gone!’ variety. By the time she had finished, Tilly’s bag was about half a tonne lighter and the nearby waste-paper basket was overflowing. Artfully arranging each pile to look specifically unartfully arranged, but in a pleasing manner, we moved the lights over to the desk and photographed each one – the contents in sharp focus with the handbags themselves slightly out of focus in the background. Tilly emailed me her copy for the post, listing the items her bag now contained and their significance, if any, which I then added to my own piece, before quickly typing an introduction about the hashtag. Finally, I copied and pasted a bunch of hashtags we commonly used for blog posts, and added the #whatsinmyhandbag tag to the bottom. With the photos loaded, I ran the spellchecker then gave the text a final scan as a triple check. Satisfied that there were no errors, I pressed submit and the post went live on my Brighton Belle lifestyle blog.



‘Do you still want to try that photo shoot on the beach tomorrow morning? I’ve just checked the weather, and it’s looking good.’
Tilly and I were