Mr. & Mrs. Smith meets The Hating Game in this heartfelt, witty, and utterly unputdownable enemies-to-lovers romance from international bestseller Mhairi McFarlane, about two journalists who must fake a relationship in order to land a huge story.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Mhairi McFarlane’s Cover Story, which releases on October 7th 2025.
Bel has just landed a job at the Manchester office of a big national newspaper, coming off the success of her latest award-winning podcast. The team is small, consisting of Bel, her ambitious colleague Aaron, and the new intern. But when the intern turns out to be a thirtysomething man called Connor, she’s not impressed. She’s patronizing, he’s hostile: it’s a terrible start.
Connor’s life is in a state of collapse. He’s left his seemingly perfect life in London—a well-paying job, great apartment, and beautiful girlfriend—for a chance to pursue a lifelong dream of becoming a reporter. After a bad first impression with Bel, his internship begins to feel like another in a series of poor decisions. But if Connor were honest with himself, she’s the first bit of excitement he’s felt in a very long time.
When Bel suddenly finds herself at the heels of a huge story, she’s determined to see it through— even if it means involving the inscrutable and aloof Connor. Before they know it, they must convince people they’re not just a couple, but a couple madly in love. If they mess up, Bel’s cover is blown and the biggest story she’ll ever have landed will disappear, along with justice for its sources.
But as time goes on, Bel and Connor start to wonder if their cover story is just an act, or if their feelings are real…
EXCERPT
“Hi . . . ?” Connor said, hesitantly, as he drew level, removing his sunglasses.
“Hi yourself!” Bel said, in a voice that implied this was funny, in a way they both understood.
She could see him taking in her hair, makeup, the violet sundress with gold platform sandals, the whole “not working from home, in fact, pavement boozing” vibe, while not looking at all like Bel Macauley. Dissonant cues everywhere, confusion jangling like wind chimes. His knitted brow said: Was Bel some sort of grifting sociopath, using the “investigations editor” title to get wasted on the newspaper dime?
She had to leap, or it was game over.
“Amber. This is Connor. My boyfriend,” she said, looking directly at him, enunciating clearly and confidently. She injected a note of shy girlish pride, inhabiting the role of A Woman Head Over Her Esska Heels: undoubtedly her most skillful acting yet.
Connor, understandably, stared at her in alarm, wondering if he’d misheard. Yet crucially, in the moments that followed, he made no response. Mute stupefaction was desirable— Bel could work with silence until Connor, she hoped against hope, caught up. It was a coin flip: surely he’d take some self-righteous pleasure in making her look ridiculous. She was at his mercy, and she didn’t fancy his stocks of mercy were high.
“Pleased to meet you, Connor,” Amber said. “I’m Bella’s new BFF. Laurent-Perrier introduced us, hahahaha.”
“I was hot desking in there”—Bel nodded into the bar—“and got into a major Bridezilla spat with Shilpa about her hen do on FaceTime, tell you later,” she said, with a theatrical eye roll, “and I needed a drink. This absolute babe has bought me bubbles to cheer me up.” She paused. “What are you doing here?”
Her palms were now slick with sweat. Ironically, it was a question she’d like answered, just absolutely not right now. Connor hadn’t been in the office this morning; she’d assumed he’d been sent out in the field.
“Checking out Didsbury House Hotel for my brother’s imminent visit. He likes eyes on his options. I’ve got a day off in lieu today . . .” Connor hesitated. “Remember?”
“Oh, of course!” Bel said. “Looking forward to meeting him.”
There was a tense beat where Bel realized the blindsided Connor couldn’t risk saying anything else without knowing the terms of her batshit fiction.
“How long have you two been together?” said Amber curiously.
Bel quietly panicked that whether consciously or not, Amber was registering it was quite odd for a couple not to share notes on their whereabouts. If it didn’t bother her now, it might do later. It was too soon for unusual things to start happening. Bel had to bluster with enough force that it was forgotten.
“Erm . . .” Bel contorted her face, as if trying to do genuine calculations. “Where are we now, June? That’s eight months, give or take? We met at a Halloween party in London. What a night that was, Con.”
She let go a goofy dirty laugh, in her Bella mode. Con. Well, quite.
“Aww. Was it love at first sight?” Amber said, looking to Bel and then to Connor.
“Erm . . .” he said, with a look of consternation. Was he going to give up? Sorry, I’ve missed a page here . . .
“Difficult to say, thanks to the fancy dress,” Connor said, after a throat clearing. “Harley Quinn costume. I was glad to find out the hair was a wig.”
She had another rush of adrenaline, this time in relief flavor.
“I went all in,” Bel agreed.
“Remind me what Harley Quinn looks like again?” Amber said.
O, fuck. Bel couldn’t remember at all. Was she in a superhero movie? Supervillain?
She opened her mouth and nothing came out.
“Fishnets, pigtails, hot pants and a baseball bat,” Connor supplied. “Reflective of Bel’s complicated nature.”
Bel gave silent thanks to him, and that she’d gone for a spin on her forename as her alter ego.
“Love it,” Amber drawled, dragging on her vape pen and giving Connor an appraising, appreciative look. “What did you go as?”
“Gomez Addams,” Bel said hastily, returning the favor.
“Mustache, pin-striped suit,” Amber said. Her eyes ran up and down him and Bel had to concede, his being superficially hot was useful distraction right now. “Want to join us, Connor?”
Bel opened her mouth, but Connor was there first: “I’d love to, but apologies for not stopping, I’ve got a to-do list as long as my arm. Nice to meet you, Amber. See you later.” He addressed his Not Girlfriend. He paused. “Call me if you need picking up?” Bel was, for now, brokenly grateful.
“Sure. See you later, darling!” Bel trilled, trying to keep the tense relief out of her voice.
“Well, well done, you,” Amber said, as Connor cleared earshot range, and Bel’s heart rate started slowing. “He’s gorgeous. Where did you say you found him again?”
“Soho. Liked it, clubbed it over the head and dragged it back north,” Bel said, as Amber gurgled.
“He left his job?” Amber said.
“No, they let him move to remote, like me. He’s in finance.” Bel waved her hand. “Please don’t ask me what he does, exactly.”
“I’ll never put you on that spot,” Amber said. “When we’ve finished the bottle, I might make you tell me what he’s like in”— she cupped both hands round her mouth to whisper— “bed, though.”
“Oh, he’s an earthquake,” Bel said, with a knowing look. “Never had better.”
Amber made an oh my God swoon face. Bel smiled, sipped from her flute and thought she’d be lucky to keep her lunch down.
From COVER STORY by Mhairi McFarlane. Copyright © 2025 by Mhairi McFarlane. Reprinted by permission of Avon Books, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
