EE oop, girls in their married bliss in Newcastle upon Tyne.
Jill is married to Rob, but he's gone off her ever since they found out that his sperm count was too low for them to have kids.
A tasty lifeguard is giving her the glad eye, which could be some consolation, if she wanted anything but her husband's love.
Jill's best pal, Leigh, is in the opposite position: Botoxed to the hilt, she's gone off her adoring husband but the lads she wants don't fancy her.
She's looking for fun, and not too fussed where she gets it.
And Wendy? Wendy has it all. The most gorgeous hunk you ever saw, a top cop, clone of the young Paul Newman.
All nice comforting chicklit, to be read while drinking a warm glass of Zinfandel before a cosy fire while the kids sleep sound upstairs.
There's dark stuff here, though. Wendy's loyal, loving husband loves to be lovely, and loves to be loved, and one woman just isn't enough. And Jill's mother is fading into the darkness of Alzheimer's.
But it's the kind of story that promises you a happy ending. Fear not.
This is Carol Mason's fourth novel, but the first one to attain publication, and it's got the raw realism of someone writing about a world she knows.
A grand little book for the festive fireside.
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