Bad Dates Club

by Mary Newnham

Genres: City Life; Marriage & Divorce; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Humorous Fiction

Synopsis

Don't miss the new uplifting and laugh-out-loud novel about friendship, love, and chaotic dates from Mary Newnham, perfect for fans of Kristen Bailey and Sophie Ranald. Available to pre-order now!

Two unlikely housemates. Two tragic dating lives. One mission to try and find love...

Maddie didn't expect to find herself single at the age of 34 after being dumped by her boyfriend so he can 'find himself'... but here she is. Semi-homeless and heartbroken, she is on a mission to find 'the one', no matter how many awful dates it takes.

Life is going exactly to plan for Violet. She lives in a beautiful flat in Notting Hill, is working her dream job as a vet, and is saving herself for marriage. She's also been obsessively waiting for the man in her church to confess his love to her. (It'll happen any day now...)

When Maddie and Violet catch up at an old friend's wedding and Violet offers Maddie her spare room, Maddie jumps at the chance.

United by their quest to find their soulmate, will Maddie and Violet survive the bad dates life throws at them, and finally get lucky in love?

Readers are obsessed with Mary Newnham:
'I adored this book!! I couldn't put it down' Reader review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'Brilliantly funny' Reader review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'So fresh and funny - be prepared for some spurting-out-your-coffee moments!' Fiona Gibson

'Such a fun, light-hearted book!' Reader review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'I laughed out loud at several moments' Reader review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'This book was hilarious, chaotic, and ultimately deeply satisfying' Reader review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'I loved getting to know Amy and see her grow throughout the story' Reader review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'I absolutely loved this book... It's hilarious and very easy to read' Reader review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'A funny, heartwarming book, that made me laugh out loud' Reader review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

'A lovely, feel good read about self discovery, confidence and finding happiness on your own terms' Reader review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Release date: September 10, 2026

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 368

Sample

Van Life

Maddie was losing her boyfriend to van life.

It was January when Oscar announced to Maddie he was going to drive off in the summer to Europe because he needed to ‘find himself’. Oh, how she laughed. She assumed her thirty-year-old boyfriend already knew who he was. An orange camper van arrived from Facebook Marketplace not long after. It was given a name – Jolene. From then on, every second that her boyfriend wasn’t working in insurance, he spent with Jolene. He’d be with her all weekend, pulling her apart and putting her back together again. Thanks to ­YouTube, Oscar was now a mechanic, apparently.

Over the months, he had grown a wiry beard that took over his face like a weed. It was his great rebellion against the corporate machine that he claimed to be trapped in. When he wasn’t in his Charles Tyrwhitt shirt, he was in his ­Patagonia hoodie. He developed an interest in drones and began following attractive nomads on Instagram.

Yet, Maddie still wasn’t convinced Oscar would actually drive off in the summer. She thought (hoped) it was one of his phases. He would get bored with Jolene, just as he had with his kombucha-making. But then Oscar quit his insurance job, and that’s when Maddie realised it may not be a phase.

‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.’ Maddie was sitting on the pavement with the sun beating down on her. She was watching Oscar pack his drone into the back of the camper van. Oscar let out a sharp exhale. He was exhausted from the merry-go-round argument they’d been having for the past week. As far as he was concerned, there was no issue; they had agreed to have a long-distance relationship for the year. He’d visit her at Christmas, and she could fly out on his birthday, to wherever he may be. He was even letting her stay in his flat with discounted rent while he was away. What more could she want?

‘This isn’t about you, Maddie; it’s about me. I need to find myself,’ he explained, once again.

‘You are you!’ Maddie yelled with her arms in the air. ‘Oscar Boulder! Here you are! This is it! You like rugby and Camden Hells. You hate mayonnaise and my velvet cushions . . . ’ Her voice weakened. ‘What about the kids?’

Oscar was rapidly losing patience.

‘There are no kids!’ he whined.

‘Exactly!’ Maddie whined back.

‘Maddie! How many times? I will have kids with you, but not right now,’ he said, in the same way a teenage boy would say ‘I will do my homework, but not right now.’ Maddie let out a loud groan.

‘When though? I’m thirty-four. And you’re off on a jolly around Europe.’

‘It’s not a jolly. It’s a trip of self-discovery,’ Oscar corrected her, and then disappeared into Jolene’s boot.

Maddie glared at the orange vehicle that was taking her man away. Throughout their three-and-half-years relationship, she had been concerned about the usual hurdles – his snobby mother and the overly flirty office manager – but she hadn’t prepared for an impromptu gap year.

‘Oscar?’ she said, softer.

‘Yeah?’ he said tiredly from the inside of the van.

‘You will still call me every day, won’t you?’

Oscar reappeared from the boot, got out, slammed the door and walked off. ‘I’m getting the noodles.’

He went into the flat. Maddie rested her head on her knees. If she ever became prime minister, she would burn all camper vans. (Thankfully for all van-lifers, she worked in advertising, so the likelihood of being elected was extremely slim.)

She stood up to have a closer look at her nemesis. Oscar had given her the grand tour of Jolene at the start of the summer. He had shown her ‘the kitchen’ (a portable cooker and a few plastic utensils) and ‘the bedroom’ (a bed that filled most of the space inside. It had a striped duvet, donated by Oscar’s mum, who had been strangely supportive of her son running away from his adult life). The tour ended outside, where a fold-away table and chairs were set out. Oscar called it his ‘lounge’. He invited Maddie to sit in the chair, relax, and imagine sipping coffee with a coastal view. ­Maddie glared at the recycling bin in front of her and wondered why the chair smelled like fish. There was not a single thing she liked about Jolene, and she could have kept this to herself and let Oscar have his proud moment, but she didn’t. She made a joke about selling the van so they could go on holiday to Croatia, where they could sit at a proper table with a coastal view. This remark triggered another one of their arguments.

When Oscar returned from the house with his noodles, he found Maddie strapped into the passenger seat with her arms folded.

‘Maddie, what are you doing?’

‘I’m coming with you,’ she yelled from behind the ­window.

‘Maddie . . . ’ She crossed her arms tighter. Oscar walked around to the driver’s side. Maddie could see the strain in his eyes, but she didn’t care; she was the victim here. He got into the driver’s seat and said, as gently and as reasonably as possible, ‘Maddie, please. I need to catch this ferry. The M25 is going to be a nightmare. I really have to go.’

She gestured towards the road. ‘Let’s go then.’

Oscar smacked the steering wheel. ‘I need to find Oscar and I can’t do that with you!’

Maddie’s eyes glazed over. She remembered a time (not so long ago) when Oscar would say he couldn’t live without her. Often it was after she had ironed his shirt or found his earbuds, but still, he said it. She had predicted (wrongly) that he would propose to her before he went away, but the months had gone by and no ring had appeared.

‘Why don’t you just stay?’ Maddie begged.

‘Maddie . . . ’

‘Just see how you feel in a month, and if you still really, really, really want to go, then you can go and I won’t say a thing.’ Oscar stared out the window and let out another very long and loud exhale. Maddie whimpered. ‘Please don’t go.’

‘I can’t do this.’ Oscar rubbed his face with both hands. Maddie jolted with excitement.

‘You can’t leave?’ she said with a huge, hopeful smile.

‘No, Maddie. I can’t do this. The long-distance thing. It’s going to be too . . . consuming.’

‘Well, I’m your girlfriend. I’m meant to be consuming.’

‘Mmm.’

‘Oscar?’

‘I just think . . . ’ Oscar paused to find the words. ‘We should pause us until I come back.’

‘Pause us?’ Maddie repeated back. ‘And then you come back after a year and decide if you want to press play again? I’m not Netflix, Oscar. I’m a woman on a ticking biological clock.’ Maddie spread her legs and shouted to her womb. ‘HEY, GUYS, CAN YOU JUST PAUSE UNTIL OSCAR COMES HOM—’

‘Okay, okay, okay,’ Oscar interjected. ‘You’re right. It’s not fair to you to keep you waiting around for me, and if I’m being totally honest, I don’t want the pressure of it.’

Maddie inspected the man she always thought she'd marry, not quite believing the words that were coming out of his mouth.

‘Are you . . . dumping me? Like, for real?’

‘I hate that word.’

‘But you are?’ Oscar scratched his head and said nothing. Maddie felt the bubbles building up inside her. Bubbling, bubbling . . . ‘You’re a joke.’ She unclipped the seatbelt and got out.

‘Maddie. Come on—’

‘No, take your stupid drone and go find yourself.’ She slammed the door and stood on the pavement with her arms crossed. Oscar went to turn the keys but stopped. He closed his eyes briefly to gather the last ounce of patience, then wound down the window.

‘Let’s not leave like this. We’ve had some great years, but we need time away from each other to grow.’

‘Three years and four months. And do you know what? I was stupid enough to think you were going to propose to me before this trip. That’s where I thought we were.’ Oscar tried to say something, but Maddie interrupted him. ‘Meredith knew you were a flake from the start,’ she said, to be spiteful. He had always felt insecure about her sister’s opinion of him.

Oscar raised his voice. ‘Would a flake let you stay in his flat while he’s away? No.’

Maddie made her voice even louder. ‘I’m not going to stay here, paying your parents’ rent every month, so you can feel better about abandoning me. I have plenty of people I can live with.’ Maddie hoped this would trigger some jealousy. It did not.

All Oscar said was, ‘Great. I’ll tell Mum that you’re moving out.’

‘She will be delighted, I’m sure.’

Oscar turned on the engine and Maddie felt sheer panic. This was actually happening. She tried to open the van door, but it was locked.

‘Oscar? Oscar? Please.’ She stuck her head through the window.

‘Maddie. Get out of the window. I’m going to miss my ferry.’

She tried to catch his eye as tears started rolling down her face. It used to kill Oscar whenever he saw Maddie cry. He would squeeze her into his chest and go through a list of things they could do to make her happy again. Cinema? Walk? Sex? Coffee?

‘Maddie!’ he shouted, slapping the steering wheel again. Now it was different. The feelings Oscar Boulder had for her had dimmed so low that he didn’t care enough about her happiness. How had they got to this point?

She tore herself away from the window.

It took Oscar three attempts to get the gearstick in place. Jolene spluttered and revved. Maddie eyeballed the grey cloud that puffed out of the exhaust. So much for being an eco-warrior.

Oscar pulled out and gave Maddie a small wave. Well. He may as well have stuck his middle finger up at her. She turned her back on him and listened to the van driving off.

Oscar was driving off.

‘No,’ Maddie yelped. She turned back to see the van was already halfway up the street. He can’t go. Not her Oscar. It took her thirty years to find him. He was the one. He was the man she was going to marry; they were going to have three children – Jetson, Flo and Theo. It was all planned out, she thought.

‘OSCAR!’ Maddie shouted and ran towards the van. ‘OSCAR!’

The brake lights came on at the end of the road. She laughed through her tears. He had seen how preposterous this was. He couldn’t leave; they couldn’t break up. They were Oscar and Maddie.

But the van turned left and drove away.

And that was that.

Maddie was single again.

Falling with Style

Three weeks and six days later

Maddie was lying on her sister’s plump Loaf sofa. She would never admit it, but it was the most comfortable sofa in the world, even with her nephews, Tarquin and Max, sitting on her back. It was late morning, and Maddie was showing the boys the masterpiece that was Toy Story. Buzz Lightyear was proving to Woody and the rest of Andy’s toys that he could fly.

‘That’s not flying, that’s falling with style,’ an exasperated Woody said.

‘We’re all falling with style,’ Maddie mumbled into the cushion.

Since Oscar had left her, she had successfully embarrassed herself at work by sending an all-office email asking for a spare room, only to be offered a bed by the creepy IT guy. So, she then had to embarrass herself further by having to beg her younger sister, Meredith, to live with her until she found somewhere suitable.

‘Maddie! What are you doing?’

Meredith was suddenly in the living room. The twins began to whine that she was blocking the telly. ­Meredith just gave them her infamous glare, and that shushed them up.

‘Maddie, you need to get ready. You can’t be late for the wedding.’

Maddie moved her eyes to see her sister in an ironed brown linen short suit. Blazer and all. It was Saturday. Have a day off, Maddie thought.

They looked similar enough that people knew they were sisters, except Meredith was always a bit less than Maddie; less old, less heavy, less make-up, less hair bleach. She also had less of a degree and a career, but that didn’t matter, as far as their mother was concerned.

‘It’s mortifying to go to a wedding alone,’ Maddie said, and moved her head a smidge so she could see what Andy’s toys were up to.

‘No, it’s not,’ Meredith said, as if she had first-hand experience of it. She did not. She hadn’t been alone since she was twenty-one. ‘People go to weddings alone all the time . . . I’ve seen them.’ She picked up the remote control, stabbed the button, and Toy Story was turned off.

The twins and Maddie let out one big moan. Meredith’s death stare came out again. Silence.

‘Maddie, how do you expect to get a new man lying on my Loaf sofa?’

Maddie rolled her eyes at her sister’s insistence on having to name-drop a brand. She was born that way. Where are my Tammy Girl trousers? Don’t use my Mac cherry-red lipstick. No, you can’t borrow my Kate Moss Topshop boots. And now that she was an adult and could afford very nice brands, she was insufferable.

‘I don’t want a new man. I want Oscar,’ Maddie mumbled.

Meredith rolled her eyes, making it obvious she was bored with the broken-heart chat.

‘Well, he doesn’t want you,’ she said.

‘Unnecessary,’ Maddie said.

‘You need to get over that man-child in his silly little van, and the only way to do that is by replacing him with a new . . . ’ Meredith mouthed, ‘dick.’

‘What’s happening in here?’

Meredith’s sparkling husband, Thomas, waltzed into the room. The twins jumped off Maddie’s back, excited that their favourite parent had arrived.

‘Maddie doesn’t want to go to the wedding,’ Meredith said, in the same tone she used to use when she was ratting Maddie out to their parents. Maddie looked up at Thomas with his white-white grin (veneers). He was everything Meredith wanted in a man; tall, rich and handsome. He also happened to be nice, too. Basically, Meredith had bagged a unicorn. The twins were wrapped around both of their dad’s legs.

‘Why not? There are a lot of single people at weddings. I would love to go to a wedding today,’ Thomas said.

Maddie was getting the sense that Thomas was beginning to view her as a problem that needed to be fixed. She imagined that when she was out of earshot, Meredith would be complaining about her single older sister moping around the house.

‘Why do you want to meet single people, Thomas?’ Meredith said with a half-jokey, half-threatening smile. Thomas pulled her in and laughed with his big, rich-man laugh.

‘HAHAHA. Why would I want to meet single people when I have you?’ He kissed her head.

Maddie looked down at the rug that had been shipped all the way from Switzerland, apparently.

‘She wants to go with Oscar,’ Meredith said in a hushed voice.

‘No, she doesn’t. He’s a man-child. She needs a proper man.’

‘Like you?’ Meredith giggled. He chuckled back. And then Meredith had her serious voice on again. ‘Maddie, you must go. We’re going to Vanessa’s BBQ, and you’re not invited. So . . . ’

‘Grand. I can stay here and watch Toy Story,’ Maddie said.

‘Maddie,’ Meredith snapped. ‘At your age, you don’t have the luxury of missing out on events where you could meet a husband, so go get dressed.’

Maddie groaned. ‘Fine,’ she said, rolling off the sofa.

‘Yes, girl!’ Thomas cheered.

As Maddie stormed out of the room, Meredith yelled after her: ‘Think about it, your husband could be on the dance floor today.’

Maddie slammed her bedroom door.

The Reunion

Violet felt like she shouldn’t have been invited to the wedding. The groom was a stranger, and although she’d known Izzy at school, she didn’t know her now. She wouldn’t be able to guess her favourite food or what music she listened to. If it weren’t for Instagram, they would have never spoken again.

Violet had posted herself at the London Marathon and Izzy sent her a direct message, letting her know she had run past Violet on the tenth mile. This led to a minorly competitive conversation about their love of running, which then led to a coffee in Marylebone. Izzy came with a gigantic diamond engagement ring that was big enough to be weapon. She launched into its backstory; from how she met her fiancé Johnny (on a dating app), through the proposal (Rome) all the way up to the bridesmaid drama (one of the bridesmaids dropped out because of plastic confetti). Izzy then asked Violet if she had anyone special. Violet couldn’t explain Hugh, so said she didn’t have anyone. Izzy tilted her head empathetically, as if Violet had revealed she had gout. And that’s when she invited her to her wedding, promising that there would be many single men. Violet didn’t care for the single men, but she liked a wedding, so she accepted the invitation.

Eighteen months later, Violet was at the gazebo entrance, trying to find her name on the seating plan. Each table was named after a place the couple had visited together, accompanied by photo evidence of each one. Johnny and Izzy are gambling in Vegas. Johnny and Izzy are eating sushi in Japan. Johnny and Izzy are on a gondola in Venice. Sydney, Madrid . . .

It made Violet feel very stagnant. She always thought she’d travel more, but the thought of travelling alone scared her. How do you eat at a restaurant by yourself? How do you use public transport in a foreign place? What if you get lost or mugged or spiked?

She eventually found her name under Toronto. The photo was of Johnny and Izzy pretending to fall off the cliff at Niagara Falls.

Toronto was at the back of the gazebo and there was nobody at the table yet. Violet sat down for a moment, then got up and moved the flower centrepiece an inch to the left. Better. She checked the name cards either side of hers. Gilbert White and Maddie Gooseman.

Maddie Gooseman, of course she’d be invited. Izzy followed Maddie throughout school. Obviously she was not following her so closely as adults. Otherwise, she’d be on the top table with the other bridesmaids.

Violet didn’t mix with Maddie at school but found her entertaining from afar. She remembered Maddie was ­Napoleon in Animal Farm. On the opening night, she tripped on a stage rake and shouted the C-word in front of the parents and teachers. She also remembered how Maddie would share her boy dramas with the class as if performing a stand-up routine. She had this laugh that sounded like a goose mating call. Her surname was unfortunate. From the age of eleven to eighteen, every single day, Maddie would laugh, and someone else would mock her by echoing it. It made Violet uncomfortable, but it never seemed to bother Maddie. It only made her laugh more.

Just as she remembered the sound of it, she heard it in real time. Maddie was heading towards her, zig-zagging through the guests, scraping past arms and cutting through conversations. Her once flat-ironed, mousey hair was now bleached and wavy. She wore a short red dress with a puffed-out skirt and held a champagne flute in each hand.

‘Violet Bright! Oh my god! Is that you?’ she shouted across the tables and came bounding over.

Violet stood up with a polite smile.

‘MWAH! MWAH!’ Maddie said as she kissed the air by Violet’s cheeks. ‘I’d recognise that gorgeous ginger mane from anywhere. That navy dress suits you. You have very toned arms. Wow. Oh, where am I sitting? Here? Do you want one of my champagnes? I feel like the candlestick from Beauty and the Beast. See.’ Maddie began to sing. ‘Be our guest . . . Be our guest. Do you get it? Sorry. I’m going to sit now.’ Maddie fell onto the seat and reached for a bread roll.

Violet slowly sat down next to her. It was then she remembered that, yes, Maddie was entertaining, but she was also exhausting.

‘So, Violet, what’s been going on with you?’

Violet shrugged. ‘Oh, you know, adulthood.’ She had no idea where to start – it had been fifteen years after all.

‘Uh-huh. Uh-huh.’ Maddie was buttering the roll to within an inch of its life. ‘What’s the job?’

‘A vet in Notting Hill.’

Maddie’s eyes widened. ‘Impressive. You were always clever.’ She took a big bite and said with a mouthful, ‘That’s why we were never in the same classes.’ She swallowed. ‘I didn’t realise you and Izzy were close.’

‘Oh,’ Violet said, feeling a bit embarrassed. ‘We’re not really. I think she invited me out of sympathy, to be honest.’

‘Same.’

Violet was confused. ‘I thought you guys were best friends at school?’

Maddie sat back in her chair. ‘We were, but she moves in different circles now.’ Maddie seemed a little bitter about this.

‘Well, it’s nice of her to invite us,’ Violet said politely.

‘Always happy for free food.’

Maddie had a theory that Izzy only invited her to show off how remarkably well she was doing, but she wasn’t going to say that out loud. She changed the subject.

‘Hey! I just remembered your mum. She was super cool. She had, like . . . blue hair, right?’

‘It was pink the last time I saw her,’ Violet said, clearly disapproving of her mother’s ever-changing hair.

Maddie narrowed her eyes as if she was working something out. ‘Wasn’t she super religious?’

‘No, that was me.’

‘Ah, that’s right! In Year Nine,’ Maddie said and clicked her fingers, ‘you got upset when I said Zac Efron was a god.’

Violet grimaced. She had forgotten about that.

‘I was a little more uptight back then.’

‘You were right, Zac Efron wasn’t a god. Pedro Pascal, now he’s a man I’d pray to. Do you still . . . Are you still . . . religious?’ She reached for another bread roll. ‘Sorry, I ­haven’t eaten all day.’

‘Still religious.’

‘Fair play,’ Maddie said, cutting the conversation off before it got any deeper. Politics and religion were subjects best avoided. And that suited Violet, too. It wasn’t that she didn’t like talking about her faith, but she had learned that there was a time, a place, and an audience.

‘So, what about you?’ Violet asked.

‘Nah, I still haven’t seen the light.’

‘No,’ Violet laughed. ‘I mean, what’s happening with life?’

‘Ah!’ Maddie tossed her head back. ‘Well. Well, about a month ago, I was dumped.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Violet said, and Maddie could see she was genuinely sad for her, which was more than she could say for any of her friends and family, who were more concerned about how right they were about Oscar than Maddie’s brokenness.

‘Yep. And now I’m living with my sister.’

‘Oh, that’s—’

‘Terrible.’

‘I was going to say sweet.’

Maddie shook her head. ‘No. My sister, Meredith, is happily married to her tall, dark and handsome husband. They live in a gigantic farmhouse in Berkshire with their adorable twins. Max is a bit like his mum, but Tarquin.’ She let out a laugh. ‘Tarquin. The other day, he refused to get out of his tiger costume when we went to Waitrose, and he kept roaring at every single person. My sister was going apeshit at him because she cares too much, and I was like, let him be a tiger in the supermarket while he still can, but hey, he’s not mine, so . . . ’ Maddie drifted off.

‘So, what’s terrible about it?’

‘It’s too perfect, it’s like salt in the wound. Get this. My sister and her husband ride a tandem bike to the farmers’ market every Sunday. Last weekend, she came back with a gingerbread man and was like, “We got you a man, Maddie.” Lol. Lol. Lol.’ Maddie poured herself a large glass of white wine.

‘That’s not kind,’ Violet said and, again, sounded sincere.

‘It’s fine. I took it out on the gingerbread man. Ate him, leg first.’

Violet laughed but felt too sad for Maddie to find it genu­inely funny. She could see that Maddie was still that clown at school, taking people’s jokes at her own expense.

‘Will you move out soon?’

‘I hope! I’ve got alerts set up on all the property websites. It’s so hard to find somewhere in London where I don’t have to share with a bunch of twenty-something cokeheads. I’m far too old for tha—’

Maddie froze.

‘What is it?’ Violet said, following Maddie’s gaze. Suddenly, Maddie dropped off her chair. ‘Maddie?’

‘The shortish man, no beard, sharp hair,’ Maddie said, halfway under the table. ‘Wearing the light blue shirt. See him?’ Violet nodded. ‘I ghosted him.’

‘Maddie!’

‘What is he even doing here? Is he coming this way?’

‘He’s standing in front of you.’

‘Maddie?’ a recognisable voice said.

Maddie squeezed her eyes shut and rose from the floor.

The Singles’ Table

Elliott was standing there with a grin on his f. . .