My first readers were the incredible Karen Sullivan and Lor Bingham. Both have a huge amount going on in their lives so I was touched to the core that they took the time and trouble to give me their invaluable thoughts and suggestions. I’m also grateful to Scott Whitmont of Lindfield Books in Sydney for reading an advance copy and sending back a lovely review and a correction! And Jane Selley did a marvelous job of copy-editing; it’s the second time we’ve worked together and she truly is the greatest, most forensic copy editor ever.

With each novel, I am blown away by the generous support of the book blogging community. I’d like to thank in particular the bloggers who chose Another Woman’s Husband for their “favorite books of 2017” lists: Anne Williams, Karen Cocking, Anne Cater, Kaisha Holloway, Victoria Goldman, Nicola Smith, Lor Bingham, and Caryl, aka Mrs. Bloggs. And thanks to all bloggers who host blog tours: I know it can be very demanding and really appreciate the effort you put in.

Love and thanks to my fabulous sister, Fiona Williams, who now has a dedicated bookcase for my novels; to my aunt Anne Nicholson for regular encouragement over the years; to the never-miss-a-party crew of Tina, Martyn, Peggy, Lee, Katie, Nev, et al; to author friends Sue Reid Sexton, Louise Beech, Marnie Riches, Liz Trenow, Kirsty Crawford, Tracy Rees, Tammy Perry, Lesley Downer, Hazel Gaynor, David Boyle, and Kerry Fisher for writerly support; and to Karel for being my own personal Peter Vasnetsov.

An Excerpt from JACKIE AND MARIA

Chapter 1

Hotel Danieli; Venice, Italy

September 3, 1957

“Come with me.” Maria felt her elbow being tugged by the party’s hostess, so insistently that she almost toppled sideways. “I want to introduce you to your fellow Greeks: Aristotle and Tina Onassis. Here they are.” Arm outswept, the hostess announced, “This is Maria Callas.”

Years later, Maria would look back on the seeming ordinariness of the moment. When you meet someone who is going to turn your world upside down and shake it up so violently that nothing will ever be the same again, there should be a warning sign, she thought. In Greek mythology there would be a thunderclap, an earthquake, an eclipse of the sun. Here there was no such thing. Just the murmur of polite conversation, a string quartet playing Schubert, and the clink of champagne glasses under crystal chandeliers.

Of course Maria had heard of Onassis before. Depending upon which paper you read, he was either the world’s richest man and a charming host on his yacht, the Christina, or a crook and a pirate of the high seas. She was surprised to find that he was shorter than her, because in photographs he had the aura of a tall man, but straightaway she liked the amusement she detected in his eyes, the way he held her hand firmly and bent to touch it with his lips.