Stuart Reardon & Jane Harvey-Berrick
The World According to Vince, a laugh out loud, feel-good RomCom from the authors of Undefeated and Model Boyfriend is available now!
A standalone story from the characters in Gym or Chocolate?
Standalone sequel to Gym or Chocolate?, giving starring roles to two much-loved secondary characters, Grace & Vince.
With British male characters, American female characters, the story is set in the present day in Manhattan where joyful silliness abounds
and pandemics don’t exist.
Grace Cooper, corporate lawyer, isn’t falling for the dubious charms of British bad boy, Vince Azzo—but he’s a man on a mission, determined to change her mind—and lower her standards.
When Vince gets arrested, he needs Grace’s help. But not all the drama is in the courtroom.
Grace
The only thing I like about Vincent Azzo is that he’s 3,000 miles away.
I don’t care that he’s a gorgeous 6’ 4” slab of manhood with a piercing gaze and blinding smile. He’s always crass and rude and swears all the time, and OMG, his Instagram feed is full of his manhood outlined in briefs, boxers, sweatpants and tighty whiteys—sometimes not even that much. He’s gorgeous, it’s true, and he’s modelled for Armani—what on earth does he want with me?
Vince
Grace Cooper is a class act—too smart to fall for my charms, but that won’t stop me trying. She’s a hard nut to crack—corporate lawyer on the outside, all woman inside. She’s not interested in me—luckily, I love a challenge.
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“The most adorable tosser you’ll meet this year”
EXCERPT ~ IN COURT
© 2020 Stuart Reardon & Jane Harvey-Berrick
All rights reserved.
“The defendant attempted to steal seventeen dogs? By himself? On foot?”
“An attempt to re-home dogs from an animal shelter that the defendant now recognizes was ill advised,” I said firmly to Judge Herschel.
“You see the thing is, M’Lud,” Vince interrupted. “Three of them was about to be murdered and I couldn’t walk past and not do nothing. I’ll look after them and…”
“Mr. Azzo,” the judge said sharply. “Do you wear spectacles?”
“Um, no, M’Lud,” Vince said earnestly. “Perfect 20/20 vision, me.”
“Then you may have noticed the woman standing in front of you who claims to be your attorney?”
“Yes!” Vince said happily. “That’s Gracie. She’s me mate!”
From the corner of my twitching eye I saw Rick drop his head into his hands. He looked like he had a headache. I know I did.
The judge threw Vince a frosty, unamused look.
“She’s paid to talk for you. I strongly suggest you let her.”
“Ah, gotcha! Shut up, Vin!” he laughed good-naturedly.
The prosecutor handling the whole docket had finally woken up and was gaping at the show going on in front of him.
“Counselor, please approach the bench,” Judge Herschel said to me.
Feeling trepidation to the soles of my stylish shoes, I walked up to stand in front of her so she could address me privately.
“Is the defendant mentally competent to understand the arraignment and plea process, Ms. Cooper?” she asked in a clipped tone.
Oh, so many ways to answer that question.
I sighed heavily. “Yes, your Honor—he’s just … different. And British.”
“Not another word from him or contempt of court will be added to his charge sheet. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your Honor.”
“Can you make the defendant understand?”
I nodded firmly, trying to look competent, confident and professional.
“Hmm,” she said, her gimlet gaze making me want to squirm like a bug under a microscope.
I approached Vince at the podium and leaned forwards. He smelled surprisingly good after a night in the cells. Maybe it was the whiff of expensive cologne that clung to his skin. I wanted to grab him by his orange jump suit, crush it in my fists, then slap that silly smile off of his face.
Vincent Azzo brought out my inner Alexa Bliss, and the man in front of me was heading for a smack-down.
I laid my palms flat on either side of him on the podium, and spoke slowly and clearly.
“Do not speak. Nod if you understand me.”
Looking confused, Vince nodded.
“That nice lady sitting up there is a judge. Right now, she’s considering including contempt of court to the collection of felonies you’ve already acquired. Without speaking, nod if you understand.”
Comprehension dawned and a chagrined look passed across his face.
“For the rest of this arraignment, do not speak to me, do not speak to Rick, do not speak to the courtroom deputy sheriff, and especially do not speak to the judge unless I tell you to. Nod if you understand.”
Vince’s big blue eyes looked wounded, but he did as requested and nodded.
I took a deep breath.
“When you speak, you make things worse. Do you understand?”
He nodded again, his pouty lips pulling down.
“Good. Leave the talking to me. Okay?”
He leaned forward so the judge couldn’t see him. “Are you mad at me, Gracie?”
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth three times before I answered.
“Yes, I’m mad at you.”
“Sorry.”
“Vincent?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
He gave a small smile and mimed zipping his lips shut.
If only.
Be sure to download your copy or read in Kindle Unlimited today!
Stuart and Jane’s Fitness Journeys
MEET STU
I’ve had four major surgeries as a result of my rugby career—three operations to repair torn Achilles tendons, and a torn rotor cuff in my shoulder that ultimately ended my professional rugby career.
Coming back from injury and surgery is a long, slow process. Keeping a level of fitness during recovery isn’t easy, and rehab after is tough. So for me, exercise and working out at the gym is more than just getting fit, it’s a way of life.
And then there’s the completely different issue of getting lean for a photoshoot like for this cover—especially when your co-author is a bad influence and travels everywhere with chocolate. I really enjoy a good quality dark chocolate, and yep, I had to cut that out to drop a few pounds for the cover shoot. Feel my pain?!
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MEET JANE
For years (decades), I told myself that I didn’t like gyms and even though I joined several with the best intentions, I stayed away. I lived in London and walked four miles a day to and from Tube stations, so that seemed like enough. I often had an aching back and shoulders, and sometimes sciatic pain, too. I put it down to having a desk job, even though I was only in my twenties.
When I moved from London to live by the ocean, I began a love affair with swimming—and there’s nothing like swimming in a cold ocean! I walked my little dog every day and felt better, but with turning to writing full-time, there were still a lot of hours spent at a desk.
Then I got really sick. The death of my father was a stressful time, as you can imagine, but it became worse when it triggered Rheumatoid Arthritis in me. Suddenly, I was using walking sticks to get around, sometimes a wheelchair, and often crippled with pain. All the usual drugs helped, and I began to regain mobility slowly. But the turning point for me was joining a gym, and realising what I’d been missing out on all these years.
Nothing happens overnight, and it was a process of simply keeping going two to three times a week to feel the benefits—and I did. I was happy, my family was happy, even my doctor was happy.
Exercise doesn’t cure RA, but it certainly helps.
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