Here’s the first chapter in case you’re struggling to decide if this hilarious book is for you.

BAD HAIR DAY, CHAPTER ONE – A Curly Bomb

Pop!

“Arghhhh!”

Engrossed with emptying a fresh bag of two-dollar coins into the cash register, Kit’s hand jerked in shock. The coins tumbled in every direction but the slot she intended. Groaning, she slapped her palm over an escaping pair and stilled their chaotic tumble. She couldn’t prevent the other four from bouncing onto the floor and rolling under the counter. “What are you doing over there?” she called.

“You dirty old man!”

Kit froze at the indignation contained in the wavering female voice. She slammed the drawer of the cash register closed and abandoned her post to investigate. Skidding to a halt at the end of the aisle containing personal hygiene products, she barrelled into a mobility scooter with a grunt of pain. The red flag protruding from its rear poked her in the eye and she wailed as the scooter’s occupant reversed over her foot. “Stop! Stop!” she squealed. A pair of flashing blue eyes glinted from behind outdated spectacles as the scooter driver jerked on the accelerator and drove forward over her foot again. “No! No! Keep still!” Kit dragged her foot clear of the wheels and hopped on one leg, rubbing her instep with frantic fingers.

Pursing her lips, she glared at the scooter driver as a numbing ache blossomed across the top of her foot. “You need special permission from Mr Rashid to ride that around the shop!” she snapped. “Health and safety.”

Instead of apologising, the woman pointed a shaking finger at the shop’s owner. Mr Rashid stood in a slick puddle of clear goop, the back of his olive left hand rubbing at his eyes. “Oh, my days!” he mumbled through a beard and moustache dripping with shiny moisture. “Oh, my days.”

“What happened here?” Kit hopped forward and almost lost her balance on the tiles. A layer of grease covered the aisle floor. “Whoa! Clean up on aisle three!” She let go of her foot and snatched hold of the opposite shelf. A multi pack of toilet rolls tumbled to the ground.

“I can’t see.” Mr Rashid turned in her direction. He stopped rubbing his eyes and stretched his hand out in front of him as though blind. The mobility scooter driver tutted as Kit spotted the object in his right hand.

“You’re not meant to put that in your eyes,” she ventured.

Mr Rashid’s eye rubbing had slicked his eyebrows upward into an alarmed expression. He lifted the tube of purple-willy-shaped lube and waved it at Kit. His blindness meant he turned his body towards the female customer instead and she gave another huff of indignation. “This is your fault!” Mr Rashid spat.

Kit dodged sideways as the woman put her scooter in reverse and sailed past Kit at speed. Her wheels caught on the grease and she performed a breathtaking doughnut and spun to face the opposite way. Her wheels scrabbled for purchase and spread the grease around the corner as she took off past the counter. “Disgusting!” she shouted once out of reach of Mr Rashid’s greasy hands. “I’ll report you!”

Kit wrinkled her nose at the clatter of the scooter colliding with the newspaper rack. The woman gave a wail of dismay and unhooked herself with much clanging and the screech of metal. The door chime registered her final escape into the sunshine. Kit turned her attention to Mr Rashid. His attempt to shuffle forward in his sensible shoes led to a slippery, arm waving dance. “How is this my fault?” she demanded. “You went to check the stock, not play with the purple-willy-shaped lube. What possessed you to cover your entire body with it? I think it works best if you remove your clothes first.”

“Get Mrs Rashid!”

Kit inhaled and took a step backwards. “I will not! Go upstairs if you’re planning kinky business!”

“I need her!”

“Oh, please!” Kit placed her sore foot on the ground and frowned at the dirty tyre marks staining her white plimsoll. “That woman ruined my shoe.”

“Get Mrs Rashid!” Mr Rashid’s voice rose to a wail. “I need help. I can’t see!”

Kit took a step towards him and lost her footing again. “The floor is like sheet ice.”

“Get my wife!” Mr Rashid shook the tube of purple-willy-shaped lube at Kit and the lid fell off and rolled under the shelf. Then she noticed the crack winding its way around the top of the tube.

“What happened to the tube?” she asked. “Did you squeeze it too hard?”

“It exploded!” Mr Rashid growled through bared teeth. The snarky angle of his eyebrows and his tight lips made him resemble an angry schnauzer.

Kit shook her head. She used the shelf to edge her way back to safety, struggling to avoid the greasy tracks left by the mobility scooter. “Exploded? It can’t have just exploded by itself. You must have done something to it.”

“It was on its side, so I picked it up and sat it upright and it exploded! In my face! Get my wife. Oh, and you’re fired.”

“I’m fired?” Kit’s head shot upright and her eyes widened. She slithered back towards him and snatched the broken tube from his fingers. “You’re firing me because you won’t admit you dropped it and now you’re embarrassed? Really?” Kit put her hands on her hips and lube dripped onto her left leg. She groaned and tried to tamp down her redheaded temper. “Don’t be ridiculous. I need to close the shop before someone breaks their neck in this mess. Then I’ll get Mrs Rashid.”

Kit slipped her plimsolls off and tiptoed around the shelves to the front door. She shot the bolt and flipped the sign to show ‘closed.’ The clearing of a male throat just behind her made her jump and scream at the same time. Her eyes narrowed at the man rubbing his chin with nervous agitation. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked. “I’m good at first aid.”

“I bet you are!” Snarkiness oozed from Kit’s voice and she backed away from the handsome customer. His dirty blond hair showed highlights either from the unforgiving New Zealand sun or an expensive overseas holiday. She didn’t care which. His proximity raised a host of conflicting emotions. Kit teetered between wanting to hug him or beat him to death with the remains of the leaking purple-willy-shaped tube. Unable to trust herself, she took another step backwards, her bare feet slippery against the tiles. Never any good at ice skating in her youth, she didn’t imagine she’d prove much better at almost thirty.

The man offered a steadying hand and she batted it away, choosing to end up on her backside than allow him any further foothold in her life. “You need to stop coming here!” she bit. Her fingers grappled at a nearby shelf, at the same time squeezing the lube. A jet of clear liquid shot down the front of his pants.

“You can’t get rid of me, Katharine.” Alec Roy frowned at the grease soaking into his expensive pant leg. “Yuk! What is that?”

“Lube.” Kit tilted her chin up, giving herself a haughty look. “I’m sure you can find a use for it with your wife. There’s more on the shelf, if Mr Rashid hasn’t got into that too.”

Alec dared to take a step forward. He lifted his hands as though to embrace her and then thought better of it. “When will you forgive me, Katharine?”

She reared back as though slapped. “For abandoning me on the day of my father’s funeral? For marrying someone else like I didn’t matter?” She pressed a shaking index finger over her chin and pursed her lips as though thinking. “Actually, Alec, I think the clincher was firing me after more than a decade of hard work because you seriously thought I killed your father!” Her voice rose to a screech and she hated the sound of it. Alec blinked against the force of each word, an expression of distaste spreading over his angular features. Hysterical women weren’t his favourite kind. Kit considered ramping up the volume and antagonism in the hope he’d leave of his own volition.

“I didn’t fire you.” His tone remained even and calm, irritating Kit further. “You quit.”

Without a suitable response on the tip of her tongue, Kit resorted to her two favourite weapons; bluster and fury. “Go away, Alec. Leave me alone. Never come here again.” She pointed the tube of purple-willy-shaped lube remnants at the door.

Alec’s strong brow furrowed into a set of neatly crafted lines which disappeared as soon as they landed. “I can’t,” he began.

“Get out!” Genuine hysteria lodged a lump in Kit’s throat as she issued the command.

“I can’t!” Alec’s voice rose a notch and helplessness descended over his capable facade as his lips closed into a firm line.

“You locked the bloody door!” Mr Rashid yelled. “Let the poor man out and get me my wife!”

Kit slipped and slid towards the door and fumbled the catch. She pivoted on the hairy coconut fibre doormat to stop herself ending up on her backside. Alec slipped through the narrow gap and collided with a customer trying to get in. Kit slammed the door, shot the catch into the locked position and dropped the blinds in a single fluid movement. She ignored the angry sounds from beyond the glass.

“Help!” Mr Rashid yelled. “I can’t see!”

Kit shimmied along the tiles, using the shelves as hand holds. With a glare along aisle three at her furious employer, she nipped behind the counter and pressed the intercom for the apartment above the shop. A woman’s voice answered, an inflection in her tone. “What now?” she demanded. “You said you’d be upstairs half an hour ago. This corset is cutting off my circulation.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed and she tapped an irritated beat on the counter with her fingernail. “So, he wasn’t just standing it upright then?” she demanded. “What a liar!”

“Oh, Kit.” Mrs Rashid cleared her throat and an embarrassing silence deadened the air between them.

Kit sighed. “Your randy husband had an accident with a tube of purple-willy-shaped lube and he’s blind. Oh, and he just fired me.”

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To read the next in the series, Side Parting, you can click on the book cover below.