Fearnley Fiction

Buy Here From the first evening they had met, Stephen and Christie had been inseparable. Weekends were spent with either Stephen travelling to the Lake District, or Christie to Chester. They had lots in common, both middle children to two sisters, with a close-knit family and circle of friends. A whole new group had been formed, as both sets of friends genuinely gelled well. Once they had announced their engagement after exactly one year, they all went wild and a mother of all parties had been thrown. Happy days. Then, after a year of blissful marriage, the cracks began to show. Christie badly wanted to save and save, to achieve her goal of buying a hotel. She was by then the manager of a small, boutique hotel in Chester city. And whilst Stephen still liked the idea of owning his own business, his lifestyle somehow didn’t involve making the necessary sacrifices to accomplish this. He still played rugby, every weekend now, as well as attending practice nights during the week....

Buy Here Chapter 1 Mrs Gia Delaney’s wedding has been the wedding to end all weddings. Seriously, if you’re planning your wedding right now I probably wouldn’t even bother because today has been a day that would put most royal weddings to shame. Gia’s nuptials made Meghan Markle’s look like nothing more than a piss-up down the pub! She had a swan ring bearer, for crying out loud. How do you even coerce a swan into performing sucha duty? A cute dog or trustworthy relative, sure, those are things that can be worked with, but a swan? I’ve never met a swan that didn’t want to kill me. Still, I booked it for her, like she asked me to. Beingchief bridesmaid left me standing awfully close to the angry bird (not the bride, although she does seem especially hot-headed today) and I was absolutely petrified. It sure will look good in the pictures, though. Gia and her husband Kent, the spoilt son of a dotcom millionaire who managed to survive the 2000 tech bubble burst (bec...

Buy Here Prologue Esther December 1910 I picked up the letter I’d written and read it over to myself. I knew he’d never see it, but it made me feel better, just putting my feelings down on paper. Putting everything that had happened behind me. ‘Sometimes the fight is part of the fun,’ I’d written. I smiled sadly. That was exactly how I felt, and why everything had gone so wrong between us; there had just been no fight. Picking up my pen again, I signed the letter with a flourish and then wafted the paper, waiting for the ink to dry. I wouldn’t send it. There was no need. But I wanted to keep it somewhere safe, somewhere I could find it if I ever needed to remember why I’d done what I’d done. I glanced round my small bedroom, looking for inspiration, and my eyes fell on my fabric bag, stuffed under the bed. I pulled it out and opened it and found inside the wooden photograph frame holding the only photograph I had of my former love. Perfe...