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What if the only person who could help was the one whose heart you'd broken?A captivating and heartrending novel of lost love, family secrets and betrayal from a major new talent.'Memories are like spinning blades; dangerous at close range.'Meg Powell and Carson McKay were soulmates. Until Meg inexplicably walked away and straight into the arms of another man.While Meg set about building a career and a family – and trying her best to forget Carson – he poured his soul into the music that was to make him an international superstar.Now, twenty years later, Meg is forced to confront the past and hidden truths in the pages of her late mother's diaries – little knowing that her teenaged daughter Savannah is playing with fire, creating a secret life on the internet that sucks her into a dangerous world.Then Carson arrives back in town – just as Meg finds out startling news which will change her life for ever.

Family begins with a capital eff.I’m wondering how many more f*cking ‘phases’ I have to endure before my children become civilised and functioning members of society? It seems like people have been telling me ‘it’s just a phase!’ for the last fifteen bloody years. Not sleeping through the night is ‘just a phase.’ Potty training and the associated accidents ‘is just a phase’. The tantrums of the terrible twos are ‘just a phase’. The picky eating, the back chat, the obsessions. The toddler refusals to nap, the teenage inability to leave their beds before 1pm without a rocket being put up their arse. The endless singing of Frozen songs, the dabbing, the weeks where apparently making them wear pants was akin to child torture. All ‘just phases!’ When do the ‘phases’ end though? WHEN? Mummy dreams of a quirky rural cottage with roses around the door and chatty chickens in the garden. Life, as ever, is not going quite as she planned. Paxo, Oxo and Bisto turn out to be highly rambunctious, rather than merely chatty, and the roses have jaggy thorns. Her precious moppets are now giant teenagers, and instead of wittering at her about who would win in a fight – a dragon badger or a ninja horse – they are Snapchatting the night away, stropping around the tiny cottage and communicating mainly in grunts – except when they are demanding Ellen provides taxi services in the small hours. And there is never, but never, any milk in the house. At least the one thing they can all agree on is that rescued Barry the Wolfdog may indeed be The Ugliest Dog in the World, but he is also the loveliest.