In 1916 Ambrose March, a young cameraman, was wounded on the Western Front. Nearly a century later his astonishing film remains testament to his talent. Now a major Hollywood movie company is aiming to recreate his final days. On set, Rory Defoe is giving the performance of his life, frequently reducing the crew to tears with his brilliant portrayal of the tormented Ambrose March. Off set, he’s proving the typical Hollywood bad boy: often so out of control he’s in danger of wrecking the film. In utter despair, the director knows there’s only one person he can turn to. Ella Buchan is tired of stars like Rory, with their obsessive fans and egos the size of the Beverly Hills Hotel. As Rory’s make-up artist she’s already spending hours each day shut up in her trailer with him. She certainly doesn’t want to get any closer. But the director needs Ella to save his film and she reluctantly agrees to get involved. She has no idea what she’s letting herself in for.

Many couples find themselves at a point where they need a passion boost. How can husbands and wives break through the many obstacles and issues that have derailed their desire and get back on track to being the crazy-in-love couple they once were? Solomon had a few secrets up his ancient sleeves, and marriage therapist Dr. David Clarke helps readers learn why the passionate exchanges and God-inspired, 3,000-year-old techniques of Solomon and Shulamith worked then--and still work today. Readers will learn how to troubleshoot problems and conflicts, put each other first, employ praise, have fun, flirt, be more playful and sensual, and rediscover the lost art of a great kiss. Every married couple can experience exhilarating passion; Dr. Clarke and the Song of Solomon reveal how!

A party is taking place in a shabby Victorian terrace house on a hot midsummer's night in Manchester. In the back garden Tony and Ruth meet, thanks to a stolen can of beer. On the floor above, Don and Edie are having a party of their own. As the night progresses, love is definitely in the air, but then so is the smell of cheap lager. And even cheaper aftershave.

My love is poison. His kiss is mine. “The first time he saw me I was shattered glass, and he was a shadow. If I had stayed, he would have just faded away.” It’s strange how easy it is to tell our stories to a stranger’s eyes. The truth about Connor Stratford and I had always been a sad tale. Over ten years of chasing, tears, lies, vows, and leaving. Two people who never loved each other at the same time, but couldn’t let each other go. Now here I was telling our story over drinks midday in an airport bar with my old diary clutched in my hand. Telling some version of our story, anyway. I left him once with no goodbye. Now I was returning home to give him what he needed to move on. “It’s important. It’s what you’re thinking.” I knew what his message meant, sent in the middle of the night after I woke from a fever dream. He was finally ready, and so was I. I just needed to finally give him the kiss he begged for. The one that meant goodbye.