I'm never going to believe a Poirot mystery again. Never. All those witnesses going, "Yes, I remember it was 3:06 p.m. exactly, because I glanced at the clock as I reached for the sugar tongs, and Lady Favisham was quite clearly sitting on the right-hand side of the fireplace." Bollocks. They have no idea where Lady Favisham was, they just don't want to admit it in front of Poirot. I'm amazed he gets anywhere.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about what could have been. It’s too unbearable.
My real name is Madeleine Wickham, under which I write dramas with an edge of humour. As Sophie Kinsella its fast, all-out comedies, such as the Shopaholic series.
Every time I mention her, Magnus says, "Are you two getting along?" in raised, hopeful tones, like we're endangered pandas who need to make a baby.
To have someone who never makes a mistake, never finds her personal life in disarray, never worries about work-life balance? I think that would be unreal. What Im writing is real.
You don't always have to know who you are. Sometimes, it's enough just to know what to do next.
It was in the forest. No one saw it or heard it. So did it actually happen?
A divorce is like a controlled explosion. Everyone on the outside is OK.
So", says Jack at at last..."you broke up with Connor". Wow. So we're straight to the point. "So", I reply defiantly. "You decided to stay". "Yes, well...", "I thought I might take a closer look at some of the European subsidiaries." He looks up. "How about you?" "Same reason." I nod. "European subsidiaries".
If you want something you can't afford, think what else that money could buy: a week's groceries, a month's rent, or a weekend away. That will put things into perspective.
I am not a label snob and have learned that the thrill of shopping can be just as great, if not more so, when you find a bargain.
Oh, this shouldn't be allowed. There should be a rule which says that people you've met in the gym should never meet you in real life.
We both gaze down at my swollen tummy for a while. I still can't quite get my head round the fact that there's a baby inside my body. Which has got to come out... somehow. OK, let's not go there. There's still time for them to invent something.
When you read my texts, you saw a curt, miserable git. And you told me so. Maybe you're right. But you know what I saw when I read yours? - Sam No. And I don't want to know. - Poppy I saw a girl who races to help others but doesn't help herself. And right now you need to help yourself. No one should walk up the aisle feeling inferior or in a different league or trying to be something they're not. - Sam
Relationships are a battle. They are a chess game. And what did I do? I just threw all my chess pieces down on the board at once, and said, "Here! Have them all!
There's nothing like your mother's sympathetic voice to make you want to burst into tears.
Why can't parents dance? Is it some universal law of physics or something?
I know this is our honeymoon. But just sometimes, I wish Luke was a girl.
I mean, when I think about it, what's more important? Clothes - or the miracle of new life?
Christmas shopping! I can do all my Christmas shopping here! I know March is a bit early, but why not be organized? And then when Christmas arrives I won't have to go near the horrible Christmas crowds.
I can do this, I tell myself firmly. I can be attracted to him. It's just a matter of self control and possibly also getting very drunk. So I lift my glass and take several huge gulps. I can feel the bubbles surging into my head, singing happily "I'm going to be a millionaire's wife! I'm going to be a millionaire's wife!" And when I look back at Tarquin, he already looks a bit more attractive. Alcohol is obviously going to be the key to our marital status.
There are some things I don't understand about Jess and never will. No wedding dress. No flowers. No photo album. No champagne. The only thing she got out of her wedding was a husband. (I mean, obviously the husband is the main point when you get married. Absolutely. That goes without saying. But still, not even a new pair of shoes?)
A mistake isn’t a mistake unless it can’t be put right.
I hurl the glass teapot to the ground. we both stare at it, stunned. "it was supposed to break," I explain after a pause, " and that was going to signify that yes, I would throw something away . If I knew it wasn't right for me.
Life is like an escalator. You see, it carries you on regardless. And you might as well enjoy the view and seize every opportunity while you're passing. Otherwise, it'll be too late.
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