Nicola Marsh - What the Paparazzi Didn't See

The secrets behind Australia’s most famous smile

Liza Lithgow has her reasons for living life in the spotlight, and they’re all to do with protecting her little sister. Now she’s finally saved enough money to leave the red carpet behind, what better way to celebrate than with a martini and a man?

The only problem is, the man in question turns out to be a publisher wanting her kiss-and-tell autobiography! Wade Urquart’s company wants a story? Fine. If scandal will sell more copies, she’ll give them exactly what they want! But what will Wade see—the glossy facade or maybe, at last, the real Liza?

What the Paparazzi Didn’t See

“Why did you agree to have a drink with me?”

The waitress deposited their drinks and he raised a martini glass in her direction. “You seemed to be in your element at that party.”

“Haven’t you ever faked it?” She clinked her glass to his. “What you see isn’t always what you get.”

He stared at her over the rim of his glass, a slight groove between his brows. “Have to say, you’re an intriguing woman and I can’t figure you out.”

She shrugged. “What’s there to know? We’re two people who wanted to escape that party. We’re having a drink. End of story.”

“Is it?”

His gaze locked on hers, potent and smoldering, and her breath hitched.

She took a sip of her martini, needing the alcohol to loosen her tightened vocal cords. “You’re expecting an epilogue?”

“A guy can always live in hope,” he said.

Dear Reader,

I admit it. The glamorous celebrity lifestyle intrigues me.

As a young woman, I had the opportunity to be a part of this world via my love for the North Melbourne Football Club. It was fun and frivolous and fabulous!

Then recently, I watched WAG Nation and it got me thinking… What happens behind the scenes in the lives of sportsmen’s wives and girlfriends?

How difficult is it to constantly be under public scrutiny?

My heroine, Liza Lithgow, knows firsthand what it’s like to put on a front while hiding her real motivation.

Will she be able to reveal her true self to publishing powerhouse Wade Urquart and find love in the process?

I loved writing a book with publishing as its theme. It’s a world I live in daily!

I hope you have as much fun reading Liza and Wade’s romance as I did creating it.

Happy reading,

Nicola

www.nicolamarsh.com

What the Paparazzi

Didn’t See

Nicola Marsh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT NICOLA MARSH

Nicola Marsh has always had a passion for writing and reading. As a young girl she devoured books when she should have been sleeping, and later kept a diary whose contents could be an epic in itself!

These days, when she’s not enjoying life with her husband and sons in her home city of Melbourne, she’s at her computer, creating the romances she loves in her dream job.

Visit Nicola’s website at www.nicolamarsh.comfor the latest news of her books.

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Excerpt

ONE

LIZA LITHGOW’S STYLE TIPS

FOR MAXIMUM WAG WOW IMPACT

The Lashes

The eyes have it. Whether attending a grand final at a stadium packed with one hundred thousand people, a glamorous nightclub opening or a BBQ with the team and their partners, bold eyes make a statement.

1 Prep with a hydrating cream.

2 Apply foundation over your lids.

3 Draw the perfect line with pencil then trace with liquid eyeliner.

4 Apply shadow of choice. Go for sparkle at night.

5 Finish with lashings of mascara.

If you need a little help in the lash department, extensions are the way to go. Individual fake lashes are pasted to your own, giving you a lush look that turns heads.

A full set of extensions takes about an hour. They last 3-6 weeks and will require refills at this time. Refills take 30 minutes.

The great thing about lash extensions is you choose whether you want natural or glamour. Though be warned: the longer-length ‘glamour’ lashes may result in questions like, ‘Have you been to a fancy dress party?’ or, ‘Is there a Priscilla: Queen of the Desert revival at the local theatre?’

If you prefer au naturel, the key to luscious lashes is prepping with a good serum. Many cosmetic companies have them.

To open up the eye in preparation for mascara, eyelash curlers are essential. Best to heat them up slightly before applying pressure to the lashes for thirty seconds.

For more dramatic impact with mascara, wiggle the wand from side to side as you apply, ensuring good coverage at the base of the lashes. It’s the density and darkness of mascara at the roots that gives the illusion of length.

And always, always, opt for waterproof. (You never know when your sport star ‘other half’ may shoot the winning hoop to win the national championship or kick the goal to break a nil-all draw in the World Cup.)

For a real wow factor with mascara, the darker the better. Black is best unless you have a very fair complexion, in which case brown is better.

Similarly with eyeliner. Stick to black at night and softer, smudged brown during the day.

For eyeshadow shades, stick to neutrals or soft pinks. Let your lashes do the talking!

If Liza Lithgow had to attend one more freaking party, she’d go insane.

Her curves resisted the control-top underwear constriction, her feet pinched from the requisite stilettos and her face ached from the perpetual smile.

The joys of being a WAG.

Technically, an ex-WAG. And loving the ex bit.

The reportedly glamorous lives of sportsmen’s Wives And Girlfriends were grossly exaggerated. She should know. She’d lived the lie for longer than she cared to admit.

‘One more pic, Liza?’

Yeah, that was what they all said. Not that she had anything against the paparazzi per se, but their idea of one last photo op usually conflicted with hers.

Assuming her game face, the one she’d used to great effect over the years, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

A plethora of flashes blinded her but her smile didn’t slip. She turned slowly, giving them time to snap her side profile before she cocked a hip, placing a hand on it and revealing an expanse of leg guaranteed to land her in the gossip columns tomorrow.

Hopefully for the last time.

Being a WAG had suited her purposes but she was done.

Let some other poor sap take her place, primping for the cameras, grinning inanely, starving herself so she wouldn’t be labelled pregnant by the media.

With a final wave at the photographers she strutted into the function room, pausing to grab a champagne from a passing waiter before heading to her usual spot at any function: front and centre.

If this was her last hurrah, she was determined to go out in style.