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Meet The Writer pt 6-10

A new month beckons so time to share the next instalment of my Meet The Writer series. As I mentioned last month, this was first shared as a 15-day challenge on my author Facebook page back in July. The final instalment will be shared next month.

#meetthewriter Day 6/15 – MUSIC….

this question made me smile. Those who know me personally already know the answer. It’s no secret that I love my rock music. My books (so far) all centre around music so listening to music aids the creative process. Alexa is my musical writing buddy! (And my work buddy for during the day job) I’d be here all day trying to name everyone who’s on my playlist! Ok- there’s a fair bit of Alter Bridge, Black Stone Cherry, Halestorm, Rival Sons, Dirty Honey, Cardinal Black, Kris Barras…..I could go on and on and on…Read my music blog https://the525toglasgow.wordpress.com/ and you’ll get the gist of it. If I’m writing outdoors, I do however prefer the sounds of nature around me.

#meetthewriter Day 7/15….LIFE….

I love “meandering” – going for a leisurely walk especially after a day logged on at work as it clears the “workday” from the rest of the day. I love to walk along the beach and feel sand under my feet. It grounds me. I also enjoy wandering through woodland. Most mornings I start the day with some yoga and a short yoga meditation combined with some Reiki.

I love reading. My kindle is never far away, and I have a house full of books of all genres.

I’m also a keen amateur photographer. You don’t want to know how many photos are on my phone!

As I mentioned before I love music and I also collect vinyl. I really do need to find a better way to store it….

I love going to gigs as time allows and I review those on my music blog The525to Glasgow.

Something you might not know is that I also run a real-life rock star’s fan page on FB and a sister account on Instagram. That FB page has a following of over 60k…..if only my author page could catch up LOL

Suffice to say…life’s busy.

#meetthewriter Day 8/15.WORDS….

what do I write…. well, my novels (so far) have all been contemporary romance along a rock music theme. Admittedly Riley is a bit different to the others. I try to write “real” believable characters into my book babies.

I blog and if you’ve explored that then you already know it’s an eclectic mix of all sorts. I do tend to have fun with different genres on there especially my Silently Watching serialised vampire fiction that has been running for 9 years now.

I also write poetry. In fact, I was published as a poet before I wrote any of my book babies.

I write music blogs too for my The525toGlasgow blog that chronicle the gigs I attend.

I journal extensively. It’s a great coping mechanism. I also write a diary every night before bed.

I kind of feel I should add that I write my Tesco list every week too! LOL

#MeetTheAuthor Day 9/15… TOOLS….

I’ve mentioned before I write all my first drafts longhand so the weapons of creation of choice are usually pens with brightly coloured ink. Black and blue are too boring! Invariably the ink is purple but, I’ll let you into a wee secret, I always write the first drafts of the Silently Watching stories in green ink. 🙂

I’ve written my way through more pens than I care to think of. I’m a sucker for pens so I’ve dozens but for Book Baby 8 I’m using Zebra Fountain Pens in purple ink. Yup- real old school with a nib pen.

I’ve stayed loyal to Pukka notepads for my writing. I started Stronger Within in one and have stuck with them. I buy them in 5’s – all the same colour. I love a good Back To School stationery sale! For my blogs I tend to use slightly fancier notebooks. Normal blog posts get written at the front and gig reviews at the back.

My Continue the Story journal is the exception in a way. I always write in pencil in it.

#MeetTheWriter Day 10/15. TALISMAN…

Today’s question kind of stopped me in my tracks. I am a creature of habit. I am one of those annoying people you could just about set your watch to. I like my things to be about me and to be in their place (even if it could be argued as being cluttered) but the honest answer to this question is …no. Unless you count a glass of water, juice, mug of coffee or glass of wine. Once I get into my “writing head” I’m in those pages and the world about me has been shut out so the surroundings don’t really matter much.

Silently Watching Once In A Blue Moon

Streaks of sunset colours stretched across the darkening skies as Jem sat on the beach, gazing out across the river. It had been a glorious late summer day. Using a spell he’d taught himself from one of Meryn’s books, he had disguised his wings and spent a peaceful few hours running his favourite forest trails behind the village, taking care to watch his speed if there was anyone in sight. No one had given him a second glance. It had felt good to step back into the “human” world and to escape the looming vampire drama.

Behind him, in the beach hut, Trine was busy making preparations for their departure. He had no idea how long they would be gone.

They had both been summoned back to the castle.

An autumnal chill had already seeped into the chambers of the castle as the sun set. As she walked along the narrow hallway to Stefan’s study, Meryn shivered. Without bothering to knock, she entered the room, smiling when she felt the warmth from a large log that was blazing in the fireplace.

“Perfect timing, Meryn,” complimented Stefan warmly. He was standing at the sideboard pouring two generous goblets of blood infused wine. “How was your journey?”

“Tiring,” confessed the vampiress, sinking into one of the chairs beside the fire. “And I miss the Italian heat already.”

“And how is Alessandro?” quizzed Stefan, handing her one of the crystal goblets.

“Anxious to return for the trial,” replied Meryn. “The past six months have drained both of us.”

“I can only imagine,” nodded the senior vampire as he took the seat opposite her. “Any news of Anna to share?”

“Only that she may detest Alessandro more than she does me,” laughed Meryn. “He’s done well to stay shackled to her for so long.”

“He has indeed. His quick actions when she appeared that night are to be commended. If he hadn’t acted as fast who knows what would have happened.”

“We’d still have captured her,” stated Meryn, recalling the scene in the ruined chapel clearly. “Michael and I were only a fraction of a second behind him with the same incantation.”

“True,” nodded Stefan. “The speed of his Italian tongue served him well.”

Pausing first to enjoy a mouthful of her wine, Meryn asked, “Are the preparations complete for his arrival here with her?”

“Almost. Michael is still in New York. By tomorrow night when Alessandro arrives, we will have thirteen full blooded vampires here. Michael will bring both him and Anna once everyone else has arrived. When they get here, I will have the castle fully sealed in so no one can leave or enter. There will be a second seal around the court once we are all inside.”

“I hope that’s enough. She’s resourceful and powerful,” commented Meryn. “And devious.”

“That she is.”

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes before Meryn asked, “Have Trine and Jem arrived yet?”

“They should be here shortly.”

“Thank you for letting them enjoy the summer in their own home.”

“No need to thank me,” said Stefan softly. “Their relationship is blooming. We need to nurture it. We also need to think about strengthening the bloodline. They are a good match for each other.”

“Strengthening the bloodline?” echoed Meryn, somewhat taken aback by the comment. “But Jem’s not a pure blood.”

“That’s where you may be wrong, my dear. He has your pure blood flowing in his veins. Add in the improvements our friend made, albeit without his full consent, I want to test his blood once the trial is over. I am confident that Anna’s actions have purified your son’s blood and removed all human traits.”

Masking her emotions, Meryn continued, “After what happened to Isabella, surely you wouldn’t risk Trine’s life by putting her through a pregnancy?”

“If it was something our young lovers wanted, I wouldn’t be against it.”

“I’m not sure if it’s something Jem would want,” she said quietly. “He still grieves for his original family. His wife. His children. I don’t know if he would risk losing all he has with Trine for the sake of strengthening the bloodline.”

“And I wouldn’t dream of interfering. Equally though, I won’t stand in their way.”

“Hmm,” mused Meryn, turning her gaze back to the flames dancing in the hearth.

Fury was blazing in her green eyes as she pulled the chains hard, drawing Alessandro within inches of her face.

“Bastardo!” spat the dark angel, her tone dripping with venom. “Figlio di puttana!”

Stepping back with ease, Alessandro laughed in her face.

“Is that the best you can do, mia cara?” he challenged as he cast another strengthening spell on the chains under his breath. “Only a few hours more then we leave this beautiful tower.”

Anna hissed at him.

“Haven’t you been well cared for during the stay?” he continued. “You’ve been nursed back to full health Signora Meryn. You’ve been fed the finest of meals. You’ve been served the best Italian wines heavily infused with fresh blood daily. You’ve been allowed to bathe regularly and now have a full wardrobe of designer gowns to replace those rags you arrived in.”

“And I’ve been less than six feet from you at all times!” snarled Anna. “I had more freedom under Meryn’s fucking dome than this!”

“Freedom has to be earned, mia cara,” he reminded her. “And it’s a right you lost your entitlement to a very long time ago.”

“Thanks to you and that interfering bitch!”

No,” disagreed Alessandro. “Thanks to your own inability to bide by the rules. Your freedom is a matter for the court to decide. Now, I suggest you rest. We leave tomorrow and it won’t be a pleasant journey for either of us.”

Hand in hand, Trine and Jem touched down lightly on the ramparts of the castle near their suite of rooms as the last light faded from the sky.

“Home sweet home,” declared Jem, a hint of sarcasm to his tone.

“Not anymore,” sighed Trine, squeezing his hand. “My home’s with you in your beach hut.”

“Our beach hut,” he corrected with a smile. “How long do you think Stefan will keep us here?”

“I have no idea,” confessed Trine sadly as she gazed out over the mountains. “Tomorrow’s full Blue Moon is only the start.”

“Have you seen other trials here?”

The ice maiden shook her head, “I believe there was one when I was about three or four years old. I don’t remember it. I vaguely remember my father being away for what felt like a long time.”

“Didn’t you see him while the trial was going on?”

Trine shook her head again, “The court chambers get sealed until the trial is over. No one enters. No one leaves. The whole castle gets sealed in too.”

“Wonderful….”

“I have been in the chambers once,” she revealed with a mischievous smile. “I must have been about ten years old. I was exploring the castle. Avoiding lessons and most likely my maths tutor. I found it by chance. It’s an entire suite of rooms. It’s not like your human court rooms. These court chambers are huge.”

“Where is it?”

“In one of the basement levels…well its spread over at least two of them,” she explained as they walked along the ramparts towards their rooms.

“One of them?”

“This castle runs very deep into the mountain.”

“How deep?”

“That I don’t know but there’s more below ground than there is above,” Trine revealed. “Sometimes its best not to ask too many questions. Several levels are sealed by enchantments. I’ve never reached the deepest level. There was always one more staircase…” She paused as he opened the door to the stairwell outside their rooms. “As long as we’re together, we’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” he sighed, closing the door behind them.

Having freshened up, Trine and Jem made their way through the castle to Stefan’s study. It might have been his imagination, but Jem felt as it there was a different energy to the castle. The corridors seemed more alive and everywhere appeared to be more brightly lit. As they walked, they passed several servants carrying trays or piles of bed linen, making him wonder how many “guests” were expected for the trial.

When they entered the warm study, both of them were surprised to find Meryn sitting by the fireplace.

“When did you get here?” squealed Trine rushing to hug the older woman.

“Earlier this evening,” Meryn replied, setting down her glass and getting to her feet. “Jem…”

Slightly hesitantly, Jem stepped forward to hug his mother while Trine and her father embraced. As the vampiress held him in her arms, she whispered, “My study before first light.”

“Wine?” offered Stefan warmly. “Supper will be served shortly.”

“I’ll pour,” said Trine, smiling at her father. “We hunted before we left. I wasn’t sure if there would be time once we got here.”

“Same,” said Meryn, retaking her seat and smoothing out her skirts.

“Tonight is your last chance until the trial is over and the verdict delivered,” stated Stefan solemnly. “None of us will starve though, I promise.”

“Has she arrived yet?” asked Jem cutting to the chase as Trine passed him a goblet of blood infused wine.

“Alessandro will arrive with her tomorrow. Michael will fetch them when he returns from New York,” replied Stefan.

“Who is he bringing with him?” asked Meryn, curiosity getting the better of her.

“He’s been extending my invites to the trial. Invitations were issued to Manuela and Miguel from Buenos Aires along with Jean-Claude and Amelie from Paris. They arrived yesterday. He reached out to William and Hannah from Boston. They will arrive tonight. He’s still trying to locate Jefferson.”

“I thought he was in New Orleans?” mused Meryn.

“He was until about two weeks ago when he left. Michael has tracked him as far as New York but is still searching for him.”

“And if he doesn’t find him?” quizzed Meryn, raising an eyebrow at Stefan.

“He’ll find him,” assured the senior vampire confidently.

“That’s still only twelve,” commented Meryn. “You’ve mis-counted.”

“Not at all. Jai from Mumbai was already here,” countered Stefan. “He’s been in his tower for most of the summer with three students he brought with him from India.”

“Any witnesses to be called during the trial?” Jem enquired casually, still trying to determine how a vampire court trial compared to its human counterpart.

“Several but no other pure bloods,” replied Stefan. “We need thirteen pure bloods to allow the court to sit according to our laws. It’s a similar process to your high court. A bit like a jury, if you like.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of two servants with trays of supper and more wine. There was no further discussion about the trial while they ate. Instead, Stefan quizzed the younger vampires about their simple beach lifestyle, expressing interest in the improvements they had made to the beach hut since his last visit.

“Do you see yourselves living there forever?” he asked casually as he set aside his napkin.

“Forever is a long time, Father,” said Trine softly. “For now, its home.”

The senior vampire smiled at his daughter, pleased that she had referred to the simple hut as “home”. He glanced across the table at Meryn who rolled her eyes at him.

Satisfied that Trine was sound asleep, Jem slipped out of bed shortly before sun rise. Soundlessly, he made his way through the castle to his mother’s tower. As he climbed the narrow spiral stone staircase, he wondered for the thousandth time why she had asked him to meet her in secret.

The heavy oak door swung open as he raised his hand to knock. With a glance round to ensure no one was watching, he slipped inside. His mother was sitting by her fireplace in a long dark blue velvet robe. Her long dark hair hung in a thick braid over her shoulder.

“Morning, mother,” he greeted as he crossed the room to sit opposite her.

“Good morning. Tea?” she offered with a soft smile.

“No, thanks. Maybe later.”

“We don’t have much time,” began Meryn, keeping her voice hushed. “I need to enter the court chambers before the sun is fully over the horizon, as does Trine. Pure blood requirement.”

“She mentioned it,” he replied calmly. “Said someone will come and fetch me and take me to join you about an hour later.

“Exactly,” said Meryn. “And you need to be prepared. Mentally prepared. This trial will be complex. Pay close attention at all times when you are in front of the pure bloods in the chamber. This trial will bring your very vampire existence into question.”

“I’d expected that.”

“But don’t expect Stefan to honour your deal. He has other plans for you.”

“Like what?” quizzed the runner, a wave of anxiety crashing through him.

“If I know him,” continued Meryn. “He’ll vote to get your bloodline tested and try to get you declared a pure blood.”

“Can he do that?”

“That infuriating meddling man can do anything he wants!” Meryn paused. “And he wants you and Trine to continue the bloodline.”

“He wants what?”

“You heard me, son. Now. as far as I’m concerned, that’s between you and Trine and none of his damn business.”

Pausing to digest what his mother had just revealed, Jem sat gazing into the fireplace watching small flames dancing along the edge of a burning log.

“Jem, keep your wits about you around Anna in court too. She can still weasel her way into your mind and twist your words as you give your statement of truth. Do not let her or anyone else, except perhaps me, enter your mind. Do you remember the incantation I taught you to seal your mind from scrying?”

He nodded.

“If you need to use it, be discreet. There are strict rules about the use of magic inside the court chamber.”

“Should I seal it before I enter?”

“No, because I might need to communicate with you,” she replied, glancing out of the window. “Go! It’s getting light.”

Without a word, he rose and left the room, his mother’s words playing over and over in his mind as he returned to his own chambers.

Shortening the chains, Alessandro drew the writhing, screaming Anna towards him. A large metal crate sat in the middle of the room.

“I will not go in that fucking box!” she screamed, her tone piercing straight through him.

“Ma’am,” interrupted Michael, politely.  “You are both going in “that fucking box” as you so politely put it.”

Right on cue, Alessandro rattled off an incantation in rapid Italian, sending thin, unbreakable chains coiling round her, trapping her arms and her majestic wings.

“The more you struggle, mi acara, the tighter they get,” he cautioned as Michael held open the side of the crate.

Cursing loudly in Italian, Alessandro wrestled the squirming dark angel into the crate, folding himself in curled around her. The instant they were both inside, Michael slammed the door shut, threw the bolts home and sealed the box in an impenetrable shell.

Next, he fastened the box to the harness he was wearing under his coat, using thick read twisted ropes that were secured at each side. Standing on top of the metal box, Michael drew his wings around him as he chanted the spell Stefan had given him to reduce the weight. The world went dark around him as magic hummed under the leather soles of his boots.

The room stood empty. A single purple tipped feather lay on the floor.

The Measly Jar of Motivation – Inside Out

Night had long since descended. As she gazed out of the tenth-floor window, she could see the lights from the town twinkling below. Tiny cars were making their way along the roads. Everything looked so normal. It all looked the same. Nothing had changed yet at the same time, everything had changed. A huge crushing weight of responsibility had settled on her slender shoulders. Although this was a moment she had dreamt of and longed for, now that it was real, she was scared. Could she really do this? What if she failed? What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she couldn’t cope?

Behind her, the baby began to cry loud piercing wails as he squirmed in his clear plastic hospital crib.

Without hesitation, she scooped him up and cradled him in her arms, swaying gently from side to side to rock him back to sleep. Could she really do this alone?

She glanced down at his head covered in downy white, blonde hair, his angry red face, his tiny, clenched fists.

Her eyes caught sight of a label. His tiny white vest was on inside out. What kind of mother was she going to make if she couldn’t even put his first vest on the right way round?

Suddenly the familiar world outside the window seemed dark and scary and completely overwhelming.

“What are you doing out of bed? It’s late. You should try to get some rest,” scolded the midwife softly.

“But he was crying…”

“Let me settle him tonight. You need to rest. You’ve had a long emotional day,” stated the midwife stepping closer.

Wearily, she handed the fractious baby, her three-hours old son, to the midwife.

“Now, do we have a name yet?” asked the midwife, accepting the baby into her arms.

“Oliver,” she replied quietly as she smiled at her son. Allowing her mind to remember her late partner momentarily as she wrestled with her grief, then she added, “After his dad.”

“It’s a good name,” nodded the midwife as baby Oliver’s cries began to subside. “Now, bed. Sleep. Rest. The world will look less daunting in the morning.”

“I hope so…”

Red Berries (poem)

Reminders that summer is passing

Evenings are getting darker

Days, although they don’t feel it, are getting shorter

Berries of all colours Nature’s reminders

Everything comes to an end

Reminders that summer is passing

Reminders that seasons must change

Indian summer anyone? I’ll live in hope

Ever hopeful for just a little more of summer’s warmth

Seasons come and seasons go…

Sometimes you need to pause and just soak up the world around you

Been a busy few days around here.

Sometimes you just need to press pause, go for a meander and appreciate the world around you.

Normal blog service will resume next week

Meet The Writer pt 1-5

Last month, I shared a 15-day #MeetTheWriter challenge on my author Facebook page. It was a bit like interviewing myself but I thought I would share these insights with my blog community over the next few months in three instalments . So here goes….

#MeetTheWriter D1/15 ….DESK

What is on your desk?

Might be easier to ask what’s not on my desk! I write at a traditional style writing bureau (the day job is done from there too) and space is at a premium. As you can see the desk “top” just has space for my laptop and notebooks. The dookets at the back of the desk are crammed full with a variety of bits n bobs. The small champagne bottle now filled with novelty pens was the champagne from the launch of my debut novel Stronger Within. The small bear to the left sits on corks from various other celebratory bottles. He’s also got a necklace made up of years’ worth of Lindt chocolate bunnies and bears. The pink elephant in front of him came out of a bath bomb my daughter had years ago, if memory serves me right. On top, there’s a collection of knick knacks and soft toys that have gathered there over the years. My camera lurks in the top right hand dooket along with a spare external storage device. Oh, and as for the glass…that’s lemonade. Honest! LOL

It’s a bit of a cluttered space but it’s my space and I love it 🙂

#MeetTheWriter Day2/15 TIME….

The evenings, after dinner, are when I sit down to write. Some days I might only have a few snatched minutes and on others several hours. I go with the flow and don’t try to force it. “It’s 7:30pm, I must write for two hours” doesn’t work for me. Some evenings I’ll spend the time revising the words I wrote the night before and I still class that as writing as I’m still building the story. Each week I also find time to write my blog posts. If you’ve checked out the blog, you’ll know these can vary greatly in length!

During the summer months I love to write outdoors in the sunshine. That time might be spent sitting at my rather rickety picnic table or back on the front doorstep where this creative journey first began.

#MeetTheWriter Day3/15 MOTIVATION ….

I’ve pondered this question for a few hours. I can’t imagine not writing. Writing is as big a part of me as breathing. It’s something I’ve always done for as long as I can remember. As a child I was always writing stories and plays. I’ve kept a diary since 1 Jan 1982. I was given my first 5-year diary for Christmas 1981, and I still use a 5-year diary to this day. I journal regularly for the sake of my own sanity. Once you read things in black and white (Ok usually purple and white in my case) those fears/concerns seem less daunting. Writing thoughts and fears down helps take the power out of those words and makes them less scary. It’s a coping mechanism that has stood me in good stead over the years. Creative writing has always been a passion. In the right mood, I can find inspiration in most things for a poem or a piece of flash fiction. This week’s blog post is a classic example – I heard a song called Cinnamon Girl on the radio and my imagination stirred into life. Staying motivated can be easier at some points than at others but I’ve learned over time not to stress if the words decide not to flow easily. My mantra as I’ve mentioned before is “dreams get your started; discipline keeps you going”. I’m a dreamer at heart and there’s always a dream to chase.

#meetthewriter Day 4/15 CHAMPION

When I reflect back to 2013 when I began to write the story that became my debut novel Stronger Within, I never told a living soul what I was attempting to do. I just wrote. Eventually several months down the line I confided in one friend about what I was doing. (No, I’m not naming names) They went on to become one of my Infamous Five who have all championed my efforts at every turn. For different reasons, I am eternally grateful to each of them for believing in me and for ensuring I continue to believe in myself. Through time there have been numerous friends who have encouraged me and helped to spread the word about my book babies. I am indebted to each and every one of them. You know who you are, folks. Couldn’t continue on this creative path without you.

#meetthewriter Day 5/15 INSPIRATION…

Another question I’ve pondered for several hours. There are countless authors I admire and whose words have struck a chord. There are also countless musicians and songwriters who have done the same. Inspiration is all around. The key is having your eyes, ears and imagination open. It might be a casual phrase that sticks with you or a line in a song or even a snippet of conversation overheard in the supermarket. If you’re open to being inspired, inspiration will find you.

The Measly Jar of Motivation – Seasons Move On (poem)

When she opened her eyes,

The seasons had moved on…

Time hadn’t stood still.

The heat was gone from the sun.

There was a chill in the air.

It was time to move on.

Time to seek freedom.

The world still weighted heavily on her.

As she walked the load lightened.

She began to breathe again,

Taking deeper and deeper breaths.

Feeling the sun on her back,

She savoured the taste of autumn.

Turning to face the October sun,

She smiled and walked on

Leaving the shadows to fall behind.

I AM…. (poetry blog)

I am tired of feeling sad.

I am tired of feeling low.

I am tired of feeling broken.

I am tired of feeling useless.

I am tired of feeling lost.

I am tired of feeling anxious.

I am tired of feeling worried.

I am tired of feeling scared.

I am tired of feeling fear.

I am tired of feeling the need to be strong.

I am tired of feeling.

I am tired.

I am….

(Image sourced via Google- credits to the owner)

Once Upon A Time (adult fiction)

In the wee small hours of the morning, Anna sat at her desk, her writing in full flow. The desk in front of her was littered with post it notes with phrases, names and key parts of the storyline scribbled on them. Earlier in the evening, she had reached the part of the tale where her male and female protagonists kissed for the first time. Caught up in the moment, the scene she initially envisaged spiralled and her “chaste kiss” became more passionate and as she wrote had evolved into something way sexier than she had first intended… but it worked, her characters were having fun, so she went with it.

Her male lead had given the female lead a ride home after her car had broken down…corny but true. In fact, her own car had broken down on the way home from work that afternoon and as she had walked the three miles home, she had dreamt of a “knight in shining armour” rocking up to give her a lift.

The tale emerging in front of her had seen her female lead invite her “knight in shining armour” in for coffee. They’d shared that first not so chaste kiss in the kitchen.

A noise from the kitchen behind her startled her back to reality. It sounded like footsteps. It also sounded like someone was making a pot of coffee, but she was home alone…

Quietly, Anna got up from her desk and tip toed across to the door which stood slightly ajar. As she peeked through the narrow gap, she caught sight of a man in her kitchen. She paused, a scream half-formed on her lips. He looked familiar. Long sun-bleached blonde hair caught back in a ponytail. Skinny black jeans. Black boots worn down at the heel. Slim fitting black V-neck tee. Tattoos visible from under the short sleeves.

She sniffed the air as a whiff of aftershave teased her sense of smell.

With a glance back at her notebook, Anna shook her head. She had to be hallucinating. The man making coffee in her kitchen matched the description of her male lead to perfection. Even the aftershave was the same scent.

Deciding that logically this couldn’t be real, she opened the door and walked through to the kitchen. At the sound of her feet on the tiled floor, he turned to smile at her. Oh, it was that dazzling smile she had written about a few hours earlier when he had stopped to rescue her female character.

“Hey,” he greeted her casually. “Where do you keep the coffee mugs?”

“Top cupboard on the left of the sink,” she heard herself reply as she took two small steps towards him.

“Black? Right?” he checked as he set two mugs down on the countertop.

“Milk and two for you?” she replied.

“Spot on.”

“I’ll get the milk,” she offered, reaching for the fridge door handle.

As she gazed into its brightly lit depths, Anna’s heart was pounding. Whatever was going on here, he was hot! That smile! Those eyes!

Lifting the carton of milk from its place on the door, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves then closed the door over. With trembling hands, she took the milk over to where he stood beside the two mugs of coffee.

“Which one’s yours?” she asked, unscrewing the lid.

“One on the right,” he replied as he spooned in some sugar.

As she stepped in to pour the milk, she felt his hand on the small of her back. Little ripples of excitement scooted up her spine at his touch. Setting the carton of milk down, she turned to face him. Their eyes met as he reached his hand out to tip her face up towards his. As their lips met, he drew her close, their kiss deepening with unspoken desire. Her hands were running up and down his back as she relished the taste of him. When she felt his hand move to caress her breast, she sighed.

“I want to make love to you, Anna,” he declared between kisses. “Right here. Right now.”

“Not here,” she whispered.

“Where then?”

“Family room,” she suggested. “Through here.”

Taking his hand, she led him into the adjacent family room. A small table lamp was still lit and offered enough light to create a more intimate atmosphere. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and gently laid her down on the couch. Straddling her, he began to unbutton her blouse, exposing the swell of her ample breasts. He ran his tongue over their curves while his fingers continued to deal with the remaining buttons. Not wanting to be the only one undressed, Anna tugged his t-shirt from the waistband of his jeans before reaching up under the soft cotton, feeling his skin smooth and warm under her cool fingers.

Within moments their clothes lay discarded on the rug. Naked, they explored each other’s body with a combination of gentle caresses and soft tender kisses. Anna ran her finger over the reddish birthmark on his hip. He traced his fingertip around her areola before biting each nipple sharply. She gasped at the thrill of the bites. He slid his hand up between her thighs, his thumb instinctively finding her sensitive nub. A small groan of ecstasy escaped from her as sparks of electricity fired through her at his every touch. Reaching down, her hand found his hard length. As she wrapped her fingers around him, it was his turn to let out a small growl of pleasure. Slowly, she massaged his erection while his fingers explored her wet feminine folds.

“I’m going to make love to you,” he said, his voice warm and husky. “I need to feel you around me.”

Parting her thighs, he entered her with one confident thrust. Her hips bucked in response. Still kissing her neck, he began to stroke her slowly, languidly, teasing her towards orgasm.

“Harder,” she breather as their bodies moved together as one. “Deeper.”

“As you desire,” he said, thrusting hard and fast.

Her orgasm shattered around him a split second before his own hot creamy load filled her in a few frantic thrusts.

“Mark,” she purred as she felt herself sink back into the soft cushions of the couch.

“Sh, Anna,” he said, putting his finger to her lips. “That was…”

“Perfect,” she finished for him.

Again, she was rewarded with one of his dazzling smiles.

Gently, he eased out of her then he spooned around her, cupping her exposed breast with one hand. Stirring purring with contentment, Anna savoured the warmth of his slender muscular body around her.

She felt her eyelids grow heavy…

A sudden chill wakened her minute…hours…later.

He was gone.

Gathering her discarded clothing into her arms, Anna wandered back through the kitchen, barely noticing the two mugs of cold coffee sitting forgotten on the counter. Her mind was focused on one thing. She needed to keep writing until she wrote Mark back out of the story…

Cinnamon Girl (short story)

Being back in the small fishing town after eighteen years felt surreal to Freya as she walked down through the narrow winding streets towards the harbour. In her jeans pocket, her hand was wrapped around a set of keys. The keys to her new shop. Everyone had told her she was insane to open her dream business in such a small tourist orientated location but something deep inside her told her that the location was perfect and that this was exactly where she was meant to be.

The place had captured her heart when she had spent the summer there. It had been her first experience of living and working away from home and had set her on the path to follow her dreams. That summer, she had worked in the town’s only hotel as a receptionist. Home for the summer season had been a tiny sweltering caravan at the campsite on the edge of town. It had been a long hot summer; it had been almost the perfect summer.

As she drew closer to the harbour front, the street grew busier with tourists meandering through town, browsing in the shop windows. “Busy’s good,” she thought as she reached the door to her own shop. It was located on the corner of the main thoroughfare with an oblique view of the harbour. Despite its prime spot, the shop had lain empty for several years. The estate agent had explained that it used to be a book shop and when the owner died, there had been a lengthy dispute over settling the estate. With the legalities agreed in the background, the shop had been put on the market. Immediately she saw the sale notice ping into her emails, Freya knew this was the place she had been searching for. Decision made, she had sealed the deal within days then spent another few weeks negotiating to buy a small cottage on the outskirts of town.

A glance at her phone told her she still had about an hour before she was due to meet the joiner who was going to re-fit the shop for her. “Time for a coffee,” she thought with a smile to herself. Coffee was something else she associated with that summer from the past.

When she had stayed in town before, Freya had fallen into the habit of walking to work via a small coffee shop hidden in one of the myriad of tiny side streets. The barista was a summer worker just like herself and he quickly sussed out her routine. By the time summer was drawing to a close, he knew it so well that her morning coffee was just being placed on the counter ready for her as she walked in the door. They’d flirted outrageously with each other but both were working long shifts with little free time. They did eventually manage one memorable date shortly before they both left to resume university life at opposite ends of the country.

She smiled at the memory as she set off to see if the coffee shop was still there.

It was! And it was exactly as she remembered it. The delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with freshly baked pastries brought back sweet memories. Behind the counter, a tall dark-haired barista was busily wiping down the coffee machine after the last order. His long hair was pulled up into a man bun, but a couple of tendrils had escaped and were curling down at the name of his neck.

“Good morning,” he greeted her as he turned round to take her order.

“Morning,” said Freya politely. “Large cappuccino with cinnamon not chocolate and an extra shot.” She paused, “Oh, and I’ll have a cinnamon apple Danish too please.”

“Sit in or take away?”

“Sit in, please.”

Their eyes met as she paid for her order, a spark of familiarity instantly re-igniting deep inside her.

“Grab a seat and I’ll bring it over.”

“Thanks,” she said, fumbling to put her change in her purse.

Stumbling into an empty table en route, Freya scurried across to the empty corner table by the window. It was him! How? Why? He hadn’t even been from here so why was he back? A voice in her head whispered, “Why not? You’re back, aren’t you?”

In an effort to calm her nerves, Freya pulled her project book out of her canvas tote and tried to focus on the list of things she needed to speak to the shopfitter about in order to ensure the place was ready for her grand opening in two weeks’ time. Turning to the next section where she’d noted down all the colour options for the interior décor, Freya caught sight of the small, frayed napkin tucked into the plastic envelope section of the section divider. She fingered the delicate edge of it as memories flooded through her.

He’d written his phone number on it and passed it to her with her coffee the last day that she had come into the shop on her way for her final shift at the hotel. She’d never called the number. Coffee had dripped onto the napkin by the time she reached work, smudging the ink and rendering the two middle numbers illegible but she’d kept it. That tiny napkin had been her only link to him for all those years….

Sensing him approaching with her order, she turned the page over so that by the time he reached the table, all that was visible was various paint colour sample cards that she had pasted into the notebook.

“I like the bottom one,” he commented as he sat the mug down, followed by a white plate with her Danish pastry on it. Next, he placed a small square napkin down with several sachets of brown sugar and a wooden stirrer on top.

“Me too,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even.

“Would look great as a feature wall,” he continued casually.

Gazing at the teal green square of colour, Freya heard herself saying, “I’m thinking of painting the whole shop that colour.”

“Shop?” he quizzed. “Hey, are you the new owner of the old book shop? I heard it was due to re-open but no one in town seems to know much. It’s been quite the local mystery this week.”

There was no backing out now. Taking a deep breath, Freya revealed, “I’m opening in two weeks hopefully. Tattoo parlour.”

“Tattoo parlour? It’ll be the only one for miles. You could be onto a winner there.”

“I hope so,” she said, looking up into his dark brown eyes for the first time in eighteen years.

“Enjoy your coffee,” he said as he turned to walk back to the counter to serve his next customer.

Had he recognised her? Had she got away with this? It had been eighteen years so why would he remember her?

She lifted two of the long skinny sugar sachets and the stirrer. Something caught her eye. There was writing on the napkin. Pushing the remaining sugar sachets aside, she revealed the whole message. “Call me, Cinnamon Girl followed by a mobile number. Been a long time.”

Cinnamon Girl….his old nickname for her from all those years ago.

Not taking any chances this time, Freya tucked the napkin into the project book. She felt something inside her shift. A calm feeling washed through her. Her heart lightened. Suddenly she knew this was all going to work out ok. They had a lot of catching up to do.

As she took her first bite of her Danish, her phone buzzed. It was a What’s App message. “Hi Mum. Will be down on Saturday. See you about 4.”

Yes… there was a lot of catching up to be done…