It's that time again. GST. I hate GST. If I was one of those organised persons (you know the kind), I would start each month by updating my accounting software with all the purchases and sales of the previous month. But I'm not. I'm not one of those organised persons. I wait until the last possible day and then madly try to get it all done at once. And every two months of the year while I'm madly entering numbers into the spreadsheet, I think, yes, next month I will do this as soon as the bank statement comes in. Ha! Even I know I'm kidding myself. I have no intention doing this hated job any sooner than absolutely necessary. But I know what you must be thinking...and I can assure you that I don't make enough from my books (yet!) to warent doing GST. But I do have to do it for our farm. And really, as much as I hate actually doing it, I do like to know where our money is coming from and where it goes to. And I'm sure my dear husband like that I don't see money in the bank account and then immediately go shopping for a new pair of shoes (although it has been known to happen...I just can't help myself when they are calling my name). Sitting here writing about doing GST is, unfortunately not actually accomplishing the GST. See, I can even procrastinate when I'm not writing a novel. Multi-talented, that's what I am!
As I'm doing the farm books, why not check out my books? Head on over to my BOOKS page to find out what I write about. Until next time, xox
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Winter has started to close in on us living here in New Zealand. The South Island received a good dump of snow this week and there was even flurries at our house. They were gone within the hour and we enjoyed sunshine for the rest of the day, but still, there was snow in May.
The last two or so years we didn't really get a winter. It didn't get cold, not really, and it wasn't very wet and we had no snow. We tend to have a better spring, grass wise, if we have a good cold, wet winter. I'm looking forward to a proper winter with snow. It must be my Canadian coming out but I miss seasons that you can differentiate from the last. Here, for the most part winter slips into spring which slips into summer. Autumn is the only season I can say, 'Yes, the season has changed.' I miss tobogganing down the hills and the crisp air burning my lungs. I imagine the Canadians I left behind think I'm crazy. They've just come out of winter and are heading for summer. The last thing I'm sure they want to think about is a deep cold. Don't get me wrong, I don't miss the 30 below weather or the six foot drifts or driving in a blizzard. I suppose what I really miss is where I grew up and the people I left behind. The snow this week just made me homesick and must be why I love watching it fall out of the sky in big white flakes. If you've been following me on social media, you would have noticed a flurry of activity yesterday. Probably mostly because there is rarely a flurry of social activity (digital or otherwise) when one is speaking about me. But I had to share what I saw up on Amazon.
It was the cover for the second book in my Copeland Ranch Trilogy. Because of You now has a cover! And it's gorgeous...if I don't say so myself. So, without further ado, here is the cover for Because of You. It's the perfect introduction to Beth and Mark. Pre-order links will be up soon. Late March, early April consisted of running around like a headless chook (chicken). My husband had a hip replacement on the 8th of April and there was loads to get ready before the big day and of course regular life had to carry on in the meantime as well. So between shifting (moving to my North American friends) stock, preg testing the cows and weighing lambs off for the sale yards there was also school, soccer practice and rugby training to get the kids to.
Working on the farm as well as running the home and being a taxi service is nothing out of the ordinary, but the closer we got to the operation, the less and less my husband could do on the farm and the more everyone else had to pick up the slack. We are fortunate that we found a reliable, experienced man to take over while Mick is recovering. It was a relief when the big day finally arrived. The operation only took about two hours and he was up on the ward in three. But I know what you're thinking. Either a) I'm using an old picture for my bio and I'm much older than I look, or b) I married a much older man, a sugar Daddy as it were. Sorry to disappoint. My man is still quite young...or at least young to have his hip replaced. He was in the hospital for only four days, including the day of his operation. They kick them out quite fast if you ask me. I think that he should have stayed another night, and in the hospital's defense, the nurses said he could stay if he wanted to. But he's stubborn and wanted to come home. All was well...for the most part. He was in extreme pain for only a little while when he woke up from a nap and his painkillers had worn off, but we learned from our mistake and made sure he was well drugged up for the next few days. It has now been about three weeks (although I'd have to check the calender to confirm that, one day is blending into the next at the moment) and he is completely off all medication now and getting around on his crutches like a pro. In fact, when we went to get his dressing changed the physio said he was doing really, really well. It might have something to do with the fact that they are used to seeing people twice his age, but still, I'm very impressed. Especially considering the state his hip was in before the replacement. His hip was stuffed, completely worn out. I have it in my freezer if you want proof. I did consider posting a photo of it, but thought it might gross too many people out. And the holiday part of my post? We haven't packed our bags and headed for tropical islands for the winter, tempting as it would be. No, the kids had two weeks off from school over the Easter. The first week consisted of them staying at friends and visiting their dad in the hospital and the second week we all just hung out at home. It was really nice. It's been a long time since they enjoyed each others company without too much fighting. We finished reading Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince and then watched the movie. I've been mean to them and not allowed them to see the movie until we finish the corresponding book so they've been hanging out to see it for a long time. I do think their friends at school have told them what happens though. :( We are now onto the final book of the series and I feel sad about that. The kids are now back at school and life has returned to some semblance of normal with school and sports to get them to. But my husband will be stuck at home in the house with me for a few weeks yet and it will take some getting used to having him hang around. I've taken to hiding in my room to get writing done. Some days I feel like I've never actually gotten up. Oh the sacrifices one must make... ;) Here is Chapter 3 of I Choose You. Thank you for taking the time to read it. If you have missed the first two chapters please scroll down to the last two posts.
Chapter 3 The truck flew over the cattle stop. Dust trailed his 1994 Dodge pickup as it bounced over washboards on the gravel road leading to the ranch. He’d reached Home Hill. The first place on the road from which the ranch house could be seen in the distance. He pulled over on the side of the road, stopped his truck and got out. Benjamin Ander Copeland couldn’t believe he was home. He’d avoided this place for the last two years. Too many painful memories floated about the place. Despite himself, a warm feeling invaded his chest and for the first time in a long time Ben felt a smile crease his face. He scrubbed it away. It didn’t feel right smiling here. The smell of spring filled the air and assaulted his senses. Sagebrush, newly budding poplar and willow trees, bullberry bushes and new prairie grasses all sent fragrance into the air. Not for the first time in his life he was grateful he didn’t have allergies. It smelled like home. He took a deep breath and filled his lungs. The remnant of last year’s grass scrunched beneath his cowboy boots as he climbed the small rise for a better view of the house. His dad had built the house for his mother not long after they’d gotten married. Before then they’d lived in the bunkhouse across the yard; a place where Benjamin had spent a fair bit of time in his last few years of high school. It had been his hiding place from his overzealous sisters. If he’d only known how life would have turned out, he would have stolen every moment he could with them. “Well, Rachel,” he said to the air around him, “you’ve got your wish. I’m home now.” Benjamin stared down at the flat rock at his feet, marking the place his sister’s ashes had been spread two years ago. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea though. I’ve been away so long.” He cleared his throat and looked back towards the house. It was partially obscured by hills and trees but he could still see the roofline. His throat tightened at the sight. “I’ll come back and see you soon.” He turned from the memorial and walked back to his truck. He sat there behind the wheel for a moment, fighting the memories. He took a deep breath and turned the key. It was time to go home. His mom was waiting in the driveway when he pulled up. He was barely out of the truck before she was wrapping her arms around him. “Benjamin Copeland, you’ve been away far too long. Don’t you put me through that again.” She loosened her hug and looked up at him. “I need you, you hear? And you need to be with your family.” She smiled, kissed his cheek and then let him go. “Come on in, dinner’s about ready.” She hurried into the house before him but kept looking over her shoulder at him, making sure he did as he was told. Some things never changed, he thought. Even after all these years, his mom could still make him feel like a little boy. He gladly followed her into the kitchen; he could smell something good. “Ben!” Umph. A whorl of golden hair flew at him. He barely had time to open his arms and catch his sister before she collided into him. “Watch it, Beth,” he told her, a smile spreading across his face. “Where the hell have you been, Ben?” Beth dropped her arms and stood before him with her hands on her hips. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Am I late?” He glanced at the wall where the kitchen clock had hung his whole life. “Where the hell’s the clock?” “Mind your language, Benjamin,” his mother said from the stove where she was stirring gravy. “What? She swore too,” he said incredulously. “Mom,” said Beth. “Hell, is not a swear word.” “It is in this house.” She turned back to her gravy. Beth rolled her eyes at him and smiled. “It’s good to have you back, big brother…but you should have come home long before now.” “I know,” he sighed. The kitchen of the ranch house was exactly as he remembered it. The same worn wooden countertop shone in the late afternoon light as it flooded through the open windows above the sink. His mom’s china was displayed pride of place in a china hutch standing in the corner of the room. The white walls and the cool yellow cupboards enhanced the brightness of the cheery kitchen. He put his hat on the hook by the door and ran his hand through his hair and over his face. Over a day’s worth of stubble prickled against his palm. He needed a shave. “Where’s Dad?” Ben asked. “He’ll be here soon, he’s just on the phone with Mr. Hargrave’s assistant again. What was her name again, Mom?” “Melody Careman or some such thing. I have it written by the phone if you want to have a look.” Benjamin felt the tension building in his shoulders and the familiar knot in his stomach growing. It was too normal here. Almost as though nothing had changed. He grabbed his hat back off the hook and ducked out the door while both of their backs were turned. “Ben, you’re not leaving, are you?” Beth caught up with him, breathless. “I just needed some air.” He took a great lungful of it and then turned back to his sister. “What’s going on, Ben, why did you stay away so long?” Beth touched his arm and he fought the impulse to pull away. “You know why,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. “No Ben, I don’t. None of the rest of us ran away. We stayed. Do you know how hard it’s been on Mom and Dad not having you around either? Or me? It’s like we lost you too Ben. Do you have any idea how horrible it was to lose my brother just weeks after my sister died?” He pulled away and turned his back on her. “I don’t need this right now, Beth.” He could see the horses in the pasture just out from the barn. What he wouldn’t give to climb up on one and ride away for ever. “When do you need it then, Ben?” she raged. “You haven’t ‘needed’ it since Rachel died and Jenna ran away.’ Her anger cut him. He wanted to run. He wanted to disappear. But he couldn’t do that. Cowboys don’t turn their back on their problems; they face them head on. The day his sister died he forgot how to be a cowboy. He opened his mouth to tell Beth that he just needed more time, but before he could get the words out his mother’s voice cut through the uncomfortable silence. “Dinner’s ready!” Beth stepped close to him and said in a lowered voice, “Don’t think we’re done with this conversation, Ben, because we aren’t. Just make sure you act happy for Mom and Dad. They’ve been so excited about you coming home. Don’t spoil it for them.” He turned and watched Beth go back inside and shook his head. In truth, he was happy. It was good to be home again and he knew he’d stayed away too long. He really loved this place. But now the ranch contained sadness too and he wasn’t used to that. He doubted he ever would be. Rachel died but he still had the rest of his family. He needed to remember that. He followed his sister inside. He vowed to himself that he would make the effort to appreciate all of them now that he was home. The smell of roast beef assaulted him as soon as he came back into the kitchen. His mom and Beth were placing the last of the meal on the table. His stomach rumbled in approval. He placed his hat back on the hook at the door and took his seat at the old oak table. Honeyed carrots glistened in their dish, mounds of mashed potatoes where piled high in their bowl, and sautéed cabbage, gravy and, best of all, Yorkshire puddings all appeared before him. He felt like a king waiting for a feast held in his honor. If the table hadn’t been so sturdy it would have collapsed when at last his mom placed the juicy roast beef down. “What’s the occasion? Why the roast?” he asked his mom. “You, silly,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “It’s not every day you come for dinner.” Watching his mom and sister he could’ve easily fooled himself that nothing has changed. But the laughter he grew up with wasn’t as loud and the creases around his mother’s eyes told him that the last two years had taken their toll on her too. He hated knowing some of those wrinkles were because of him. “Ben, you made it!” His dad entered the room with a huge smile on his face. Lance Copeland looked like every rancher from his generation should: tall, muscled but slightly paunchy around the middle from enjoying years of his wife’s good cooking. As soon as Ben stood up he was enveloped into a hug. He swayed at the force of his dad slapping his back. “It’s so good to see you, son. You’ve been away too long.” Ben caught his dad’s eye and was surprised to see tears gathering along the lashes. He had to clear his throat before responding. “It’s good to be home. I’ve miss it. I’ve missed you.” * If you enjoyed these chapters, I Choose You is now available at all good e-retailers. See below for the links or have a look at my Books page. Lights. Camera. Cowboy. Helga Hansen is the movie star of the moment. Wealthy beyond her wildest dreams, beautiful and girlfriend of sexy Myles of the world-famous band The Knights: life could not be better. Until Myles cheats on her, that is. Then her latest movie is ‒ again! ‒ a career-threatening flop. She’s sacked her friend/agent in a fury. And, to make matters worse, her little sister’s life seems to be spiraling out of control and Helga’s just not sure how to help her out of the abyss. So the invitation to star in Brian Hargrave’s new movie – yes, the Brian Hargrave ‒ is one she just can’t turn down. And if it means filming in Hicksville for what’ll seem like an eternity, so what? It’s time away from the big smoke and a chance to lick her wounds. And did someone say something about cowboys? Order Links Amazon.com Amazon.ca Amazon.co.uk Amazon.com.au Kobo iTunes Google Play Are you ready? Here is chapter 2 of my new release, I Choose You. If you've missed the first chapter, scroll down to yesterday's post.
Enjoy! Chapter 2 Helga could hear her phone ringing before she even got to her door. She scrambled with the keys, wondering if she’d get in the door in time to answer it. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. The lock clicked, she pushed the door open with her shoulder, dropped her groceries on the floor, grabbed the phone mid-ring and kicked the door shut with her foot. “Hello,” she panted as she watched an apple roll across the floor out of her grocery bag. Who knew that answering a phone would be such a workout? There was a short pause and for a moment Helga wondered if she was too late and they’d hung up. She held her breath, her heart in her throat and waited. “May I speak to Helga Hansen please,” a gravelly voice echoed down the crackling line. It sounded like the man was in a barrel. It wasn’t him. She couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or not. “Speaking,” she said into the phone, pushing Myles from her thoughts. “Ah, Helga, I’m glad I got a hold of you. This is Brian Hargrave.” “Mr.…” Oh my God! “…Hargrave. Oh, um, it’s a pleasure, sir. How may I help you?” Excitement bubbled up from her toes, making her light-headed. She leaned against the wall to stop herself from falling over from the mixture of elation, excitement and nerves zinging through every nerve-ending in her body. Brain Hargrave was the top move producer in Hollywood. Not even Spielberg could touch him. Helga had met Mr. Hargrave several times but he had never, ever, called her before. She took a deep breath and tried to – silently – clear the lump of nervousness from her throat. “I have on my desk, in front of me, a manuscript. I have a copy of the same manuscript on the way to your apartment as we speak; it should be there soon. I want you to play the lead. Have a read and call me tomorrow. Let me know if you’re interested.” The wall could no longer hold her up. This was her dream. She pinched herself hard. She couldn’t believe it was becoming her reality. “It’s not your usual role, I’ll give you that.” The gruffness of his voice rattled in her ear. “But I know what I want. I choose you. You, Helga, will be perfect.” It was a lot to take in. Helga’s mind raced in circles around her head as she stared unseeing at the white wall across from where she sat on the floor. “Mr. Hargrave – ” she started. “ – Call me Brian,” he interjected. “Oh, okay, Brian. Shouldn’t you be talking this over with my agent? Rosie Haul deals with this sort of thing for me.” She gripped the phone to her ear and suppressed a moan. “Not that I’m disappointed to hear from you personally, I just thought it odd…” She trailed off before she could dig herself a bigger hole. She slapped her hand against her forehead. Shut up Helga! Brian ignored her babbling. She supposed he must be used to people making absolute idiots of themselves in front of him. “I’ve spoken to Rosie,” he said. “Several times these last few weeks in fact. She is, shall we say, uncertain this is the role for you. But…I’d like you to have a look at it yourself before you make your final decision.” “What? Oh ouch.” She’d raised her head from her hands so fast she cracked her head on the wall behind her. “You talked to Rosie?” she asked as she rubbed her head. “Several times, yes. Hasn’t she told you?” He paused for a moment and then said, “I was afraid of that.” Helga pushed down the acid of betrayal and forced herself to speak calmly. “Could you tell me a little about the role?” Over the next ten minutes Helga focused on the words Brian was saying. Excitement rushed through her veins as he described the character he want her play. It was gritty and deep, nothing like she’d ever played before. It was the total opposite of the blonde sex symbol she portrayed in every movie. She couldn’t sit still any longer. She got to her feet and paced back and forth in front of the side table, walking as far as the phone cord would allow. It wasn’t the first time she regretted her vintage telephone. The more Brian talked, the more comfortable Helga became. Soon she was firing questions at him. The more he answered, the more she had to have the part. “This role was written with you in mind,” he said just before he hung up. “I hope you decide to accept it.” In the excitement, she’d almost forgotten. Helga’s hand shook as she hung up the phone. Her heart raced in her chest, her breath fast. The emotions running through her body clashed against each other: elation filled her up so much her feet barely touched the ground, but the anger was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Her agent, Rosie Haul, had turned him down. What was going on? What was she thinking? How could she do that? Had she even asked Helga what she wanted to do? No. In six weeks of Brian trying to convince Rosie that Helga was perfect for the part Rosie hadn’t breathed a word about it. Not. One. Word. She couldn’t understand it. You don’t just not mention that Brian Hargrave wants you in a film. And it wasn’t as if Rosie could have forgotten that Brian had called her: he’d called her at least two times a week since he sent the manuscript over. She’d said no. Twice. Every week. Helga went into her living room and sat down in her favorite red armchair. This couldn’t be happening. Her blood started to pound in her temples. She rested her head against the back of her chair. The tabloids were eating her alive at the moment, her films were a flop. It seemed like the whole world had forgotten the good old days when she had starred in films like Love’s Crazy Ammunition, Rockabilities and The Love Thief. Now all they wanted to talk about was how crap she was at acting, Box-office bombs and her disastrous love life. She was ready to throw it all in, give up and disappear. Maybe head off and buy a little place in the mountains. She didn’t want to, but she could feel the wall at her back and there was nowhere else to go. But Brian Hargrave had handed her a lifeline with his offer. She knew she’d never get another chance like this again. Why had Rosie said no? Why hadn’t Rosie told her? This was the absolute last call. Helga needed to take a risk. She needed to get her name back up there at the top or she might as well toss in the towel now and call it quits. But she wasn’t going down without a fight. Not yet. She got up and paced around the room. Red-hot anger wouldn’t let her contemplate anything but the drive to her agent’s office to hash it out with Rosie face to face. Helga glanced at her watch as she quickly shoved her feet in her sneakers, not caring if she flattened the back of her shoes; she had plenty of shoes. She was halfway to her door before she remembered she’d left her car keys in the kitchen. Cursing, she jogged back to get them and shoved them in her pocket. Before she left, she called down to the front desk to see if Brian’s package had arrived. The receptionist told her it had and asked if she would like it sent up. After telling the receptionist she’d pick it up on her way out, she slammed her front door and ducked around the corner to the stairwell, bypassing the elevator. The contraption was so slow it was often quicker to run down the stairs. Besides, that way she didn’t have to go to the gym. It was just one of the perks of living on the top floor. By the time she made it down to the underground garage she was panting. The exertion should have worn off the edge of her anger, but she was still seething. Throwing her sunglasses on, she spun her tires and her car screamed out of the parking garage. Helga paused only long enough to find a break in traffic before swinging into her lane. She may have been angry but she wasn’t stupid. She didn’t want to cause an accident. She looked at her watch again. She had fifteen minutes before she knew she agent would leave for the day. Alarm bells should have gone off in her head when Rosie had started to leave the office every day at exactly five o’clock. What kind of ambitious career driven woman did that? Exactly. Rosie was incredibly hard to get a hold of outside of office hours as well, which made being on the road for work extremely difficult. Things had sure changed since Rosie married ten months ago. Somehow Helga managed to find a parking space right outside the door. HAUL AGENCY shone in gold letters above the doorway. Haul Agency was a very successful company. Its offices rose in glimmering glass above the asphalt. When Helga had first signed with the company, Rosie had run it out of her home office. Rosie was successful because Helga was successful. Of course, Rosie now had more clients and more agents working with her, but Helga had always been her bread and butter. Betrayal stabbed Helga in the chest again. That someone whom Helga trusted could do this to her and her career hurt. She shoved the ache away and embraced the anger. She stalked up the steps, hitting the lock button on her key ring before entering the building. The muted cheep letting her know her silver Audi R8 would be safe until she returned. The glass doors whooshed out of her way when she approached the entrance. She stormed past the cream reception desk and the security post next to it. Bruce the security guard smiled and waved at her. She nodded and threw him a smile that probably looked more like a grimace, and kept going. Poor man, he was really nice and it wasn’t his fault his boss was an idiot, but she didn’t trust herself to make pleasant conversation at this particular moment. She scowled at herself in the mirror covering the short hallway to the elevators. She managed – just – to refrain from picking up on of those God-awful snake plants Rosie favored from the long black table along the wall and hurling it into the gilded mirror. She would love to see thousands of shards of glass explode into the pristine environment. It would suit her mood exactly. But she didn’t want to give the cleaners extra work. If Rosie had to clean it up…well, she probably wouldn’t have been able to help herself. She pressed the UP button when she reached the elevators. She didn’t have to wait long. The doors slid open with a soft ping then the lavish interior filled with Bruno Mars’ latest song and, despite herself, Helga felt herself relaxing. It smelled like lavender and in a flash she remembered a conversation she’d had with her agent when Rosie was setting up this office. “I read in a magazine that soft music and certain smells can relax clients,” Rosie had said while she lounged on the couch in her home. “In my business, my clients aren’t always stress-free, in actual fact, as you well know, Helga, this is a stressful business. I need all the help I can get.” Rosie had smiled then and sat up, fishing around in her satchel. “I have samples. Will you help me pick a smell?” Emotion stabbed Helga in the chest and she was grateful when the elevator doors slid open on the top floor and she could escape the memory. She didn’t wish to recall how well she and Rosie used to get along. Life had been great while they were at the top, now it felt as though Rosie was leaving her behind. Once upon a time, Helga would have counted Rosie as one of her best friends. Not anymore. She walked towards Rosie’s office. She held her head high and refused to show it wasn’t just anger she was feeling. Striding past Rosie’s receptionist she didn’t even pause long enough to see her pick up the phone. But the intercom hadn’t even managed to ring when Helga threw the door open. It hit the wall and bounced back but just before it hit her in the nose, she managed to stop it with her hand. Anger surged again when she saw laughter lighting Rosie’s face. *** Rosie Haul pushed the files around on her desk and checked her watch for the fifth time: fifteen more minutes then she’d have to go home. Her fuzzy slippers called her name. They were the only thing worth going home for. Anger and resentment greeted her every night at the door. Mark wanted to go out to dinner tonight but after the week she’d had she couldn’t get excited about playing dress-up with him and smiling as he schmoozed producers. Rosie looked at her desk. Clients were starting to get demanding and their files were piling up. File folders and papers littered the surface. Her fingers itched to look over the new contract for Julia Roberts that had come in today but Rosie knew from experience she’d be lost in her own world for hours and hours: Mark wouldn’t be able to forgive her. He never did. Instead, she tidied up the papers and put them into a neat pile on her desk. She didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but it was becoming increasingly clear that her marriage to Mark just wasn’t working out. God, why was her life such a fuck up? She’d tried everything to make this marriage work. She’d even cut her work hours back ridiculously. She used to be lucky to get out of the office by eight o’clock and now she made sure she left at five on the dot. She’d done it to please Mark but it hadn’t worked. Nothing seemed to please him anymore. In the midst of her failing marriage, her clients were suffering from neglect. She was going to have to hire another agent to cover for her, but margins were tight and it seemed a waste to pay someone to do her job. She looked at her watch and sighed: eight more minutes. One client in particular played on her mind. Helga Hansen was the very first client she’d ever signed. They used to be the best of friends but as Helga grew more famous they’d both became too busy to discuss more than contracts and scripts. Helga’s last two films flopped. Rosie blamed herself. She should have been able to see those parts just weren’t right for her. Hindsight was twenty-twenty of course; it was easy to see that now. What Helga needed now was a blockbuster. Luckily a script had come in the other day which would suit her perfectly. It was a romantic comedy – something Helga played well – but it also had hard-hitting drama in it. It would showcase her acting in the best light. It’d allow her audience to see her in a grittier role and yet at the same time play the part they were used to seeing her in. And then – and only then – did she want Helga to start pursuing deeper roles. Such as the one Brian Hargrave wanted Helga to play. He’d called today. Again. She’d already told him in no uncertain terms that she would not allow Helga to take on that role at this time. It would be suicide. The critics would chew her to pieces. The last two films were bad enough. But one more flop and that would be it, Helga’s career would be over, down the toilet. Or at least she would never get another big role in a so-called blockbuster…not for a long time…if ever. But that man was persistent. Four more minutes. She straightened her pens then, against her better judgment, she opened the envelope sitting on the top of her inbox. A bright orange URGENT was splashed across the front. She peaked inside. He hadn’t. Not another one. Could that man not take no for an answer? Two and a half minutes. She needed to pee. She grabbed her purse and got up from her desk but before she could make it around her potted snake plant, her door banged open. Helga Hansen stood in her doorway, her face like thunder, waving a piece of paper in the air. Oh Shit. “Ah, Helga, I was just heading out the door.” Rosie adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. Helga didn’t bother with social niceties. “Brian Hargrave called me this afternoon just after I got home from LA.” The color drained from Rosie’s face at the mention of Brian’s name. “It was an enlightening conversation, to say the least. What’s going on, Rosie? He said he sent you over a script.’ Helga watched as Rosie swallowed a few times, buying for time; she could see the cogs turning behind Rosie’s eyes. “Yes, he did. That part wasn’t for you. Not at all your forte.” Rosie moved back around her desk and riffled through some papers until she found what she was looking for. When she turned back around the color had returned to her face and she was waving a wad of bound papers in the air triumphantly. “I also received this today! This script is perfect for you.” Rosie held the script out to her. “I was going to send it over this afternoon, but since you’re here you might as well take it now.” Rosie shook the manuscript a little to try and get her to take it but Helga just looked at Rosie with contempt. Helga took a menacing step into the room. “Why didn’t you tell me Brian wanted me? Don’t you think it was a decision I should have made myself? This is too big of an opportunity to pass up! What on earth were you thinking, Rosie?” With each question she took a step closer to Rosie. The elation she had felt when she was on the phone to Brian had charged her with excitement and now made the anger all the more pronounced. Why had her agent told him no? Rosie dropped her arm holding the manuscript and looked at her with pity. “Darling, I don’t want to be the one to tell you. I honestly thought you already knew, anyway. But you can’t take on that role. Everyone knows your acting abilities are better suited to romcom.” “In other words, you don’t think I’m able to do it, is that it?” Helga could feel her jaw dropping open. Her own agent thought her acting was shit. “You don’t think I’m good enough.” She ran her fingers through her curls in frustration. Why did no one believe in her anymore? “How can anyone know if I can or can’t do a serious role if I’m never given the opportunity? Why must I always be stuck in the same role all the time, Rosie?” She could feel tears of frustration gathering behind her eyeballs. Rosie moved back around her desk and sank slowly into her chair. “It’s not that I don’t think you can act the role, darling, it’s the fact that you have never done a serious role and I fear it’s too late to try. The audience just won’t accept you as a serious character now. You’ve played too many ditsy blondes to all of a sudden change to a hard-hitting lawyer defending a sexual predator. Well, surely you can see the problem?” She leaned forward over her desk and rested her chin on her steepled fingers. “Listen, Helga, you are immensely talented – we all know that – but the fact is the last few films you’ve done have bombed at the box office and have barely broke even. You are becoming a risk and frankly, Helga, if you choose to take this offer from Brian, I’m not sure you will ever receive another offer…of any kind.” “So that’s it then? You’re giving up on me? Just like that?” “No darling, I’m not giving up at all. I will be more than happy to represent you if you sign this contract.” Rosie picked the discarded script off her desk and held it out to Helga. Helga looked at the papers. She couldn’t bring herself to reach out for them. She would be giving up on her dream of working with the great Brian Hargrave if she took Rosie’s offer. Since she started acting, it was this moment she was striving for. She knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that she wouldn’t likely be offered again. She shook her head and turned towards the door. “Sorry, Rosie, I can’t. Thanks for all the help over the years. I’ll show myself out.” She walked down the corridor with her head held high and her stride purposeful. She didn’t even pause when she heard Rosie calling her name. She let out a deep breath only when she was safely inside the elevator. * If you enjoyed the first two chapters, I'll be sharing one more chapter tomorrow. Until then...x Lights. Camera. Cowboy. Helga Hansen is the movie star of the moment. Wealthy beyond her wildest dreams, beautiful and girlfriend of sexy Myles of the world-famous band The Knights: life could not be better. Until Myles cheats on her, that is. Then her latest movie is ‒ again! ‒ a career-threatening flop. She’s sacked her friend/agent in a fury. And, to make matters worse, her little sister’s life seems to be spiraling out of control and Helga’s just not sure how to help her out of the abyss. So the invitation to star in Brian Hargrave’s new movie – yes, the Brian Hargrave ‒ is one she just can’t turn down. And if it means filming in Hicksville for what’ll seem like an eternity, so what? It’s time away from the big smoke and a chance to lick her wounds. And did someone say something about cowboys? Pre-order links Amazon.com Amazon.ca Amazon.au Amazon.co.uk Kobo iTunes Google Play Because I Choose You is coming out on Friday, I wanted to give you little teaser as a Thank You gift. So for the next few days I will be sharing the first few chapters of my new release.
This chapter is for you. Thank you for taking the time to read my books, blog posts, Facebook posts and Twitter feeds. I really appreciate it. Here is Chapter 1 for I Choose You. Chapter 1 No sunglasses in the world were dark enough. The sun’s splintering rays still burnt through the lenses. And sunglasses couldn’t hide the fact she was shattered. The grainy pictures in the gossip magazines displayed at the newsstand ensured the whole world was aware of her devastation. “Passenger Miss Helga Hansen, please make your way to gate number seventy-three. Your plane is about to depart. This is your final boarding call.” This is what she got for flying economy. She had figured fewer people would recognize her if she wasn’t where she was expected. Now, thanks to American Airlines, every eye would be focused on her as she boarded the plane. Gone were the days when she could travel by alias – security was just too tight and she didn’t want to be detained for questioning for traveling with a fake identity. She shuddered at the thought of being locked in a room for hours with men and rubber gloves. It wasn’t even her fault she was late. Gerry, the producer of her latest film, had held her up at the studio for so long that her driver hit rush hour traffic. That they made it here at all was a miracle. But with the not so subtle whispers following her as she rushed to catch her flight, Helga wished she’d missed her plane all together. As she boarded, the airhostess vaguely waved her to her seat: 47B. She really should have flown business class at least. She squeezed down the narrow aisle past harassed mothers, whiny kids and self-important businessmen. She would have gladly paid the extra eighteen hundred bucks if she’d known today would have ended so horribly. She wrestled her shoulder bag into the overhead locker and tried to get into her seat. The man on the aisle just sat there, looked at her but made no move to let her in. “Could you let me in please?” she finally asked when the airhostess cleared her throat rather obviously, for the third time. The man grunted and moved his legs two inches to the side but other than that made no attempt to move. “You’re that actress, aren’t you?” he asked as she tried in vain to squeeze past him. He picked the unfortunate moment when her ass was right in front of his face to start the conversation. “The one who’s always breaking up with her boyfriends.” Helga sighed and backed up, dragging his knee with her. “That’s me,” she said, trying to plaster a smile on her face. She couldn’t push past him and he wouldn’t move out of her way. She used the advantage of her height and, standing on her tiptoes, stepped over his legs, finally managing to arrive in her seat. She sank as deeply into it as possible. She could feel a bar through the seat, running across her lower back. She let out a huge sigh and wiggled. This was going to be a long flight. The captain’s voice came over the speaker garbled and unclear but more than likely telling them about the weather and flying conditions. The flight attendants started their safety briefing and although Helga made this trip practically every week, she made a point of paying attention to the demonstration. With the way her day was going, she wouldn’t be surprised if they came in on a crash landing. The lady on her right flipped through a copy of one of the gossip magazines featuring a lovely photograph of her with red puffy eyes and running mascara. The man on her left spent the first ten minutes leaning over her to peer out the window, and breathing heavily onto her breasts. She shifted as far away from him as the close confines of cattle class would allow. Would this day never end? All she wanted to do was to crawl into her bed and sleep for a month. This had been another week from hell. She briefly entertained the idea of asking the airhostess if she could upgrade but the one who greeted her at the door was still shooting daggers her way whenever their eyes met. She was exhausted and vulnerable and the last thing she wanted to do was discuss her personal life with strangers. Unfortunately that was exactly what her traveling companions seemed to want to do for the remaining 5 hours and 23 minutes of the flight. Oh why hadn’t she purchased a first-class ticket? Once the lady overflowing the seat next to her looked up from her magazine and saw who she was sitting next to, Helga couldn’t get her to stop talking. “You can’t let him walk all over you, honey. You have to stand up for yourself.” Helga squirmed away from the lady’s concerned patting of her knee and shifted closer to the heavy breather who was now clutching both his armrests in a death grip as their plane took off. “You know, honey, my sister used to be just like you, going through men like they were outfits. And I said to her, I said, “Honey, you gots to stand up for yourself. Where’s your self-respect? Well, you know what she did, honey?” “No, I’m sure I don’t.” Helga dearly wished she’d taken some sleeping tablets before she boarded. She’d just have to get some out of her bag. Oh shit, no. Her bag was in the overhead locker and there was no way she’d be able to get past Heavy Breather to get it. She slumped back into her seat and waited for the words of wisdom to come from Honey’s mouth. “Well, she got herself a decent job and found herself a rich lawyer man, uh huh, that’s what she did. They’ve been married now for six years and not once has she had her heart broken again. You stick with me, honey, and I’ll steer you right.” “Thank you for your advice,” Helga said and closed her eyes behind her sunglasses. “If you don’t mind, I’m awfully tired. I think I might just get a few hours’ sleep while I can. It was sure nice to meet you though.” As much as getting ‘advice’ from strangers grated on her nerves, Helga made a point of always being gracious to everyone she met. Firstly, she’d like to be treated with respect herself and somewhere in the back of her mind, locked far away, was the hope that someday she would be. And secondly, she knew only too well what one nasty review or comment could do. If she let her frustration out on this woman and that woman talked to her friends and they to their friends, well, it didn’t take a genius to see what kind of damage could be done. And let’s face it, the way her career had gone this last year, she needed all the supporters she could get. * Come back tomorrow for Chapter 2. Lights. Camera. Cowboy. Helga Hansen is the movie star of the moment. Wealthy beyond her wildest dreams, beautiful and girlfriend of sexy Myles of the world-famous band The Knights: life could not be better. Until Myles cheats on her, that is. Then her latest movie is ‒ again! ‒ a career-threatening flop. She’s sacked her friend/agent in a fury. And, to make matters worse, her little sister’s life seems to be spiraling out of control and Helga’s just not sure how to help her out of the abyss. So the invitation to star in Brian Hargrave’s new movie – yes, the Brian Hargrave ‒ is one she just can’t turn down. And if it means filming in Hicksville for what’ll seem like an eternity, so what? It’s time away from the big smoke and a chance to lick her wounds. And did someone say something about cowboys? Pre Order Links Amazon.com Amazon.ca Amazon.com.au Amazon.co.uk Kobo iTunes Google Play You have no idea how excited I am to introduce to you a new series, the first book of which is being released next Friday, March 13, 2015! I Choose You is close to my heart. It is about a cowboy and a movie star. And although I had to research about movie stars, I do know a thing or two about cowboys. I grew up on a ranch. My father was a cowboy, my brother is a cowboy and I married a cowboy. Somethings are deeply ingrained inside my being and some of those things from my childhood have crept into this story. This book is connected to me. I do hope you love it as much as I do. My publisher revealed the cover today. Pre-order links are posted at the bottom of this page. Tell me what you think of the cover. Okay, sorry that isn't the cover, but I can't resist a good-looking cowboy! Lights. Camera. Cowboy.
Helga Hansen is the movie star of the moment. Wealthy beyond her wildest dreams, beautiful and girlfriend of sexy Myles of the world-famous band The Knights:, life could not be better. Until Myles cheats on her, that is. Then her latest movie is - again! - a career-threatening flop. She’s sacked her friend/agent in a fury. And, to make matters worse, her little sister’s life seems to be spiraling out of control and Helga’s just not sure how to help her out of the abyss. So the invitation to star in Brian Hargrave’s new movie – yes, the Brian Hargrave - is one she just can’t turn down. And if it means filming in Hicksville for what’ll seem like an eternity, so what? It’s time away from the big smoke and a chance to lick her wounds. And did someone say something about cowboys? Amazon.com Amazon.co.uk Amazon.ca Amazon.com.au Kobo How are you spending your Valentine's Day?
Are you soaking in the love and enjoying dinner for two at a fancy restaurant, eating gorgeous hand-made chocolates and admiring the dozen long-stem red roses your one true love has brought you? Or are you laughing at this description because it's the farthest thing from the truth? I'm laughing. There is a reason I write romance. So I can live vicariously through my characters. Don't get me wrong, my husband is wonderful and I wouldn't change anything about him. Otherwise he would be someone else, right? And I don't want anyone else. But he is not romantic...at least not how most people think of romance. He doesn't hold hands, he only grudgingly gives me hugs, doesn't bring me chocolate or roses...or even a card on Valentine's Day and barely ever says he loves me. Instead he takes the kids away so I can finish writing in time in time to meet my deadlines. He picks me wild mushrooms and cooks the best mince-on-toast. He brought me flowers and chocolate milk to the hospital each time I had a baby and he proposed to me under the stars. I would much rather have the things he does for me than the things he doesn't. Roses and chocolates aren't important. I don't really think they say I Love You quite as much as looking after sick kids and making dinner unexpectedly does. So in celebration of not celebrating Valentine's Day, I have a gift for you. And since I'm not close enough to give you all flowers and chocolates, Apple has helped me out. They have chosen Debutantes Don't Date as part of their Valentine's Day Promotion. Until February 20th it's on sale on iTunes UK for £0.49. Amazon UK has since followed suit and has also priced Debutantes Don't Date at £0.49. iTunes.com has also matched the price in US dollars and it's available there for $0.99. Tomorrow I have another treat to share with you. My friend Amelia Thorne's second book is being released and I have her first chapter of Tied Up With Love to share with you. Enjoy your Valentine's Day however you are spending it. I am so excited to be able to share Amelia Thorne's first chapter of her new book Tied Up With Love. It is available at all good e-bookstores from today. Look for the links below. Here's the blurb: ‘We’re from KMW. Do exactly as you’re told and you won’t get hurt...'Being grabbed off the street, blind folded, tied up and thrown into a van was not what Izzy expected to happen when she stepped out the door that morning. But when an accidental kidnapping at the hands of the sexy Ethan Chase and his 'Kidnap My Wife' sexual fantasy business leads to just that, Izzy seizes the chance to turn her misfortune into a brilliant new job opportunity… Since then, life has been one big tangle of new client meetings, fake kidnapping pick-ups, and handling the temperamental, but drop dead gorgeous 'bad boy' Mr Chase. But, as liberating as being tied up in Ethan's life is, Izzy knows the time is fast approaching when she must make some decisions and take charge of her future. The only question is: will Ethan allow himself to be a part of it? Chapter One Izzy watched as the grey van skidded round the corner and tore down the street towards her. The driver definitely seemed to be in a rush. The van had blacked out windows, a foreign plate and was being driven really badly. It careened across the empty road, mounted the pavement right in front of her and stopped just before hitting a lamppost. She was standing outside a recording studio and for one deliciously exciting moment, Izzy thought someone famous might step out, with mirrored shades and a huge entourage. Admittedly, the recording studio was generally used for making advertising jingles, but allegedly Chesney Hawkes had once been there. Izzy inched closer. Nothing exciting ever happened in her sleepy little town of Greater Chessingburyford. Maybe today… The van doors were suddenly thrown open and out stepped the biggest man she had ever seen in her entire life. His elf ears were huge and stuck out into comical points, his enormous eyes were magnified behind thick rimmed glasses. He looked friendly, kind of sweet, like a big puppy. So it came as the biggest shock in the world when he yanked a cotton bag over her head, threw her over his shoulder and bundled her into the van. Izzy heard the van door close, plunging her into darkness. As the van took off, Izzy’s brain finally caught up with what had just happened. She had been kidnapped. She was lying on the floor of the van – it was dusty and she could see a pair of black boots out the bottom of the bag. The legs attached to them knelt by her side. ‘We’re from KMW. Do exactly as you’re told and you won’t get hurt. Put your hands in front of you.’ Izzy obeyed, suddenly feeling a sick wave of panic consume her. Rope was tied around her wrists, and although it wasn’t tight it immediately chafed her skin. KMW? Who the bloody hell were they? Like KGB or FBI? What did they want with her? More importantly, what were they going to do with her? Would she be beaten and tortured? Would they kill her once they were finished? Her throat was dry but she managed to find her voice. ‘What do you want?’ ‘Someone wants to see you. We’re taking you to Oakwood House now. It’s in the middle of nowhere so no one will hear you scream,’ Black Boots said. Izzy heard herself take a deep shuddering breath. ‘I don’t have any money.’ ‘I don’t think it’s your money he’s after.’ Another male voice, which somehow Izzy associated with the huge man who had abducted her. He laughed and the lewdness of it sent shivers down her spine. ‘Leave it out Gizmo,’ Black Boots said. Strong hands were suddenly around her arms and she was pulled up and sat in a chair. ‘When we get to the house, we’ll take you in and down to the basement. It’s been requested that you’re tied to the bed. After that you’ll be left alone.’ Izzy felt physically sick, her heart was racing in her ears, cold sweat prickled down her back. ‘She’s shaking,’ Gizmo said. ‘I know,’ Black Boots said, with a note of worry in his voice. ‘Look we’ll be there in a minute. We need to gag you.’ The bag was pulled from her head and she blinked in the muted light, getting her first glimpse of Black Boots. He was young, maybe early twenties. He was good looking and had brown eyes and warm skin of Mediterranean colouring. He proffered the bandana and she flinched away from him. Gizmo, she noted, was calmly reading the paper. ‘Please, let me go. I’m rubbish in bed, your boss or client will be very disappointed.’ Black Boots narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. ‘You don’t know what this is about, do you?’ Izzy shook her head. ‘Crap, he’s supposed to tell you. We say it time and time again, they have to tell them.’ ‘We’re here,’ called the driver and she looked over to see the back of a shaved head in the driver’s seat. Izzy felt the van come to a halt. Black Boots pushed his hair from his face and sighed. ‘Dave asked us to bring you here, you don’t need to worry.’ ‘Dave?’ Izzy asked and Black Boots nodded. Who the bloody hell was Dave? The door to the back of the van was suddenly thrown open, bright sunlight temporarily blinding her. As she opened her mouth to speak, Black Boots slipped the bandana in her mouth and tied it round the back of her neck. Gizmo stood up and ducked to get out the van, then turned round and in an easy movement lifted her carefully back over his shoulder again. She had never been as scared in her life as she was right then. She had read about this sort of thing in the papers, but never thought for one moment it would ever happen to her. They were quickly inside and she had a chance to see dark wood flooring before Gizmo was carrying her down some stone stairs. He walked into a dimly lit room and laid her on the bed. Black Boots knelt on the bed next to her and lifted her arms above her head to tie them to the headboard. Something snapped inside of her, there was no way she was going to let this happen. She lashed out with her feet, kicking Gizmo in the side of the face. He leapt back with a wail, she elbowed Black Boots in the nose and blood spurted from it satisfyingly. She leapt up and ran but only managed to get two feet before Gizmo had grabbed her and dragged her, kicking and wriggling back to the bed. Black Boots quickly held her feet down while Gizmo tied her hands proficiently to the headboard. ‘Jesus,’ Gizmo rubbed his head. ‘Anyone would think she doesn’t want to get shagged.’ Black Boots touched his nose. ‘This is exactly why she should have been told. I don’t get paid enough for this.’ Izzy wriggled against her restraints, pulling on the rope so hard it made her wrists sore. ‘Good luck to her husband, that’s all I can say, she’s going to skin him alive,’ Gizmo said. There were footsteps on the stairs and Black Boots looked towards them. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell her? That’s part of our agreement. She’s petrified.’ ‘I did,’ said a voice, veiled in the darkness. Izzy strained her eyes to look at her kidnapper and slowly he emerged into the light. A thin, scrawny looking man with glasses peered at her. ‘Who the hell is that?’ ‘Your wife,’ Gizmo said. ‘No she bloody isn’t.’ Black Boots looked back at her, his tanned cheeks suddenly going pale. ‘That’s not your wife?’ Scrawny Man shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen her before in my life.’ They all stared at her. Maybe there was some little ray of hope. They’d clearly kidnapped the wrong person and now she would be set free. ‘Hang on a minute,’ Scrawny Man said. ‘If she’s here, who the hell has got my wife?’ ‘No one, there are no other teams. Your wife is probably still standing at the pick-up point. Or gone home, bored of waiting.’ ‘Bloody hell, I’ve paid four hundred pounds for this and you can’t even pick up the right woman. I bought Viagra and everything.’ ‘Look, Ethan will be in touch with you. We’ll arrange a full refund or an alternative date but right now we have the very small matter of abducting a complete stranger off the street to deal with.’ Black Boots gestured to Izzy in exasperation and Scrawny Man nodded. ‘Right, of course. If the press get hold of this I want full anonymity.’ ‘The press won’t get hold of this – besides, you’re not actually doing anything wrong.’ Scrawny Man nodded again. ‘I better call my wife.’ Izzy watched as he retreated back up the stairs. Gizmo and Black Boots continued to stare at her. ‘What are we going to do now?’ Gizmo asked. ‘I can’t believe you grabbed the wrong woman.’ ‘Me? You told me it was her.’ ‘The boss is going to kill us,’ Black Boots said. ‘We could not tell him.’ ‘How do you suppose that’s going to work? We let her go now, she’ll go straight to the police. The police will come straight to Ethan with your description, you’re hardly inconspicuous.’ Gizmo paled. ‘I’m not going back to jail, no way.’ Izzy moaned against her gag and Black Boots approached her like she was a caged wild animal. Carefully he removed the bandana from her mouth. ‘Please, let me go. There’s obviously been some terrible mistake. I promise, I won’t go to the police. I won’t tell anyone.’ Black Boots looked back at Gizmo. Gizmo shook his head, ‘She’s seen our faces. There’s no way I’m letting her go.’ ‘Are you insane? We’re not criminals. What are you going to do with her, kill her and dump her body where no one will ever find her?’ Izzy’s heart, which had been slowing when she realised she wasn’t the intended target, started galloping again. ‘Please. Please don’t hurt me.’ ‘We’re not going to hurt you.’ Black Boots leaned over to untie her from the headboard. But as she sat up Gizmo marched over and pulled the bag back over her head. ‘What are you doing?’ Black Boots said. ‘We’ll take her to the boss, he’ll know what to do.’ ‘Jesus, Gizmo, we’re just making this situation worse.’ But Gizmo, it seemed, wasn’t to be talked out of this. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder again. She saw the stone steps and then the gravel outside, and she was back inside the darkness of the van a moment later * The van journey was quite short but Gizmo and Black Boots were silent. They surely weren’t going to kill her. But she had seen their faces, she knew the van’s number plate off by heart. Why would they let her go? How had it come to this? Her day had started so normally. Since being fired from her job two weeks before, she hadn’t had to get up too early, but her beloved cat Pete had woken her up demanding to be fed. She’d studiously ignored the first trickle of bills that had arrived on her doorstep. There were bound to be many more to come. She’d fed the cat, fed herself the remains of the cereal, gone for a run and spent three hours applying for different jobs. Bar maid, waitress, secretary, cleaner, bin man – or in her case, bin lady – sports coach, carpenter and driver’s mate, she’d applied for them all. She came across well on the phone, she had good experience and was never sick. She worked hard and most people seemed interested until they asked the fateful question. ‘Why did you leave your last job?’ Being fired for breaking her boss’s nose was not a selling point. Most people rapidly lost interest after that. She’d wandered down to the college to see if there were any more free courses she could sign up for but she’d already done most of them. She’d just been on her way to meet her Aunt Sophie for coffee when Gizmo and Black Boots had crashed into her life. The van stopped and she heard them climb out, leaving her alone in the darkness. ‘WHAT?’ roared a voice nearby as no doubt their boss, Ethan, was just informed they had kidnapped the wrong person. ‘WHAT?’ roared Ethan even louder as he was no doubt told she was still tied up in the van with a bag over her head. He sounded like a man not to mess with and Izzy found herself shaking again. She heard running footsteps and the van door was thrown open. The bag was yanked from her head and she looked into the fierce blue eyes of the most freaking gorgeous man she had ever seen. He was huge, not quite as big as Gizmo in height but certainly the same broadness. He had curly dark hair and the same Mediterranean skin tone as Black Boots, which made the azure blue eyes stand out even more. In fact his eyes didn’t belong in someone so dark and they made him look interesting and unusual. He stared at her for a moment. Was he checking her out? Izzy nearly laughed at this crazy thought – she was dressed in tatty leggings, an oversized hoodie and battered knee high boots, there was definitely nothing sexy about her, but the look in his eyes was undeniably hunger, as if he wanted to eat her. He moved forward to grab her and Izzy flinched away from him. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’m Ethan Chase. I’m so sorry about all this. Let me make you a cup of tea and I will explain everything.’ He took her arms in surprisingly gentle hands, pulled her to her feet and helped her down from the van. Her legs were shaking and she wasn’t sure if she could stand. ‘Are you ok to walk? Here, let me help.’ Before she could answer, Ethan swept her up into his arms and carried her like a baby into his office. Gizmo and Black Boots were standing to one side, looking sheepish. ‘Get out, both of you.’ They hurried out and Ethan placed her in a chair. He knelt next to her and started to undo the rope around her hands. The office was a mess. There was a big desk with a phone that was ringing quietly. Paperwork was strewn everywhere, in piles on the floor, even on the big comfy sofa in the corner. There was a very swish looking computer with some kind of diary on the screen and mouldy coffee cups in various degrees of decay were all over the floor, windowsills and on top of the filing cabinet. Sunlight was spilling through the open door and Izzy looked out at the fields and trees stretching as far as the eye could see. She tried to pick out landmarks so she knew where she was, but apart from a distant church, it was a landscape of green. She would escape. She was a fast runner, she knew this. When she went jogging, she could run for very long distances and barely break into a sweat. Gizmo and Black Boots were lurking by the van but she could run in the other direction, leap over that fence and be down the hill before they could get anywhere near her. She looked at Ethan. He was very strong though. The shirt he was wearing did seem to be bulging at the arms. Even his exposed tanned forearms were muscular. The element of surprise would help her. With her hands released she put her head in them and pretended to cry. ‘Now, there’s no need to cry, I know it was scary for you, and I’m really sorry for that…’ he leaned in to comfort her and she punched him as hard as she could in the face, sending him sprawling on the floor. She leapt out of her chair and ran through the door. ‘Jesus, not again,’ Black Boots said. ‘Gizmo, stop her,’ roared Ethan. She ran towards the fence, but her legs were shaky with the adrenaline that was coursing through her and she couldn’t run as fast as she needed to. Gizmo lumbered towards her, she swung her fist in his direction but he caught both hands and threw her over his shoulder again. She fought against him but with one strong arm round her legs she could do very little to stop him. He plonked her back in the chair again, grabbed the rope that Ethan had taken from her hands and tied her to the chair. Ethan had a blue ice pack pressed to his eye, making him look like an obscure pirate. With his thin lips and his dark eyebrows slashing downwards across his forehead, he was definitely pissed. ‘Now you will listen to me…’ Ethan started, his voice sounding like a growl. ‘HELP!’ Izzy screamed. ‘SOMEBODY HELP ME. HELP!’ Ethan rolled his eyes and moved into the little kitchen. As Izzy continued to scream, she watched him pour two mugs of tea and put a splash of whisky in one of them, then he came round and sat on the desk in front of her. He waited patiently for her to stop screaming, but if she screamed for long enough someone was bound to come. After yelling for help for a good minute or two with no sign of anyone coming to her rescue, Izzy flopped back in the chair, exhausted. ‘Finished?’ Ethan said. Izzy nodded in defeat. He clearly wasn’t going to hurt her, and with her not being the intended target she might actually get to go home tonight with all her fingers still attached. ‘Good. Now you’ll listen to me. We’re a company called “Kidnap My Wife.” We offer a service to couples who want to spice up their sex life by staging a kidnapping. We agree a time and place with the couple for the wife to be waiting at, we turn up in our van, kidnap the wife and take her to our house down the road where the husband is waiting. What happens next is a variation on a theme, the wife can be tied to a bed, or a chair, the husband normally acts out some kind of fantasy for him or her, and they end up having sex. It’s all above board and legal and hugely popular. We’ve been operating for about five years now. With the popularity of Fifty Shades of Grey our list of clients has gone through the roof. It seems all women like to be tied up and threatened. Claire Reynolds was our client today, you look a lot like her I’m afraid and were in the right place at the right time. She must have been running late. You have my complete and utter apologies. I can assure you this type of thing has never happened before.’ Izzy blinked at him. It all sounded very plausible. She looked around the office for any evidence to this and sure enough she could see several headed sheets of paper with the ‘Kidnap My Wife’ logo on the top. ‘Now I’m going to untie you, you’re going to drink this tea and we can talk about some kind of compensation before I take you home.’ He knelt next to her and untied the rope with skilful fingers. The bruise on his eye looked painful. ‘I’m sorry I punched you,’ Izzy said, quietly. He didn’t say anything as he shoved the cup of tea into her hand. She went to take a sip but the smell of whisky was strong and she pulled a face. ‘Drink it.’ Ethan glared at her and she quickly took a big gulp. The whisky burned the back of her throat but at another scowl from Ethan she took another big sip. ‘Here.’ He passed her the ice pack. ‘Put this on the back of your hand, it will be sore tomorrow.’ She obliged and watched him go back round the other side of his desk. He shifted a big pile of papers from there onto the floor and sat down watching her. ‘So how much to make you forget about this?’ Compensation? That hardly seemed fair, yes she had been terrified but it had been a genuine mistake. All three men were going to have bruises to show for their accidental brush with her. Surely that made them even. ‘Shall we say two thousand pounds?’ Izzy choked on her tea and she saw the small smug smile of satisfaction from Ethan, knowing she had been bought. Two thousand pounds. Bloody hell. That would give her spending money for her trip to Australia. If she was careful, it would pay for her bills and her food too, for the next five weeks until she left. Ethan rifled through the papers on his desk until he found the cheque book. He quickly filled it in and offered it across the table towards her. She looked at the three zeros, shining temptingly with their wet ink. Why shouldn’t she take it, she had been traumatised after all. But a small business like this, two thousand pounds could be the make or break of it. What if this money was the difference between paying their bills and putting food on their table? What if giving her money would bankrupt them? She wouldn’t take it. The phone rang incessantly between them and suddenly an idea formed in her head. It was mean and underhand but right then she didn’t care. ‘I don’t want your money.’ Ethan looked confused by this. ‘I want a job.’ His eyebrows shot up. ‘Are you kidding?’ ‘That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.’ ‘I’m not giving you a job.’ ‘I’m sure the police would be very interested in my story. Taking you to court and suing you for traumatisation would be long and messy. Poor Gizmo out there could end up behind bars again. The papers get wind of this and it’s all over for your company.’ His eyes flashed. The cheque was crumpled in his tight fist. He stood up, towering over her. ‘That’s blackmail.’ She stood up too, though this did nothing to diminish the height difference between them. ‘That’s correct, it is. I’m good though. I can type a hundred and twenty words per minute, I did events management as part of my business studies degree, so something like this is perfect for me. I have years of secretarial experience in various different roles. I work hard, I will be here nine to five every day to answer your phone. I’ll clear up all this mess and establish some proper system round here. You’re obviously good at what you do to run this company for five years and still be standing, but I’m guessing you’d be better suited in the field. If I’m here dealing with the paperwork and the phone calls then you can have two teams out doing the kidnapping. You and Baldy in one van and Gizmo and Black Boots in the other. And most importantly I can implement procedures that will assure this kind of thing never happens to anyone else ever again.’ Izzy could see the vein in his neck pulsing away but he didn’t say anything so she pushed home her trump card. ‘I’ll be going to Australia in just over five weeks, so even if you hate me being here, in five weeks I’ll be gone.’ ‘How long are you gone for?’ ‘Six weeks initially, maybe longer. I may get a job out there so I’m not sure if or when I’d be coming back. I wouldn’t expect you to hold my job open for me when it could be months before I return.’ ‘You’ll need good references.’ Izzy shook her head. ‘No references.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You gave Gizmo a job despite his criminal record, you can give me a job on face value too.’ ‘Gizmo is my brother. I don’t know you.’ ‘Six weeks.’ ‘Three. Then if I’m not happy you leave without a word.’ ‘Fine, but you’ll still pay me for those three weeks. Six hundred pounds a week.’ ‘Three hundred.’ ‘Four hundred and fifty or I walk out of here now and go straight to the police.’ He glared at her, breathing heavily through his nose. ‘I want you here at eight-thirty tomorrow morning.’ She nodded, barely able to believe her luck. ‘And you’ll dress a lot smarter than you’re dressed now.’ She nodded again. ‘Now get out of my sight.’ She hurried out the door into the warm welcome sunshine and Gizmo straightened from leaning on the van, ready to catch her again if need be. ‘Gizmo,’ Ethan called over her shoulder. ‘Take her home.’ Gizmo opened the van door for her chivalrously and she ran towards it before Ethan could change his mind. ‘Wait.’ Ethan appeared in the doorway. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Isabelle Franklin.’ Ethan nodded and walked back inside, slamming the door between them. * The Frog and Sausage was warm and cosy, with little booths under turret type roofs and winding stairs that led to further seating areas. It was one of Izzy’s favourite places in the world. The food was amazing, the customers friendly and laidback and right now she was sitting next to a roaring fire listening to the rain howling outside. It didn’t sit right with her, blackmailing Ethan into giving her a job. She just wasn’t that sort of person. Being underhand and conniving was not part of her make-up. She would just have to prove to Ethan that she was a hard worker and that he hadn’t made a mistake in hiring her. The door slammed open and amongst the leaves and rain that blew in, so did a bedraggled yeti, hair like a bush, struggling with her umbrella. The yeti forced the door closed, dumped the now broken umbrella in a stand near the door and planted a wet kiss on Izzy’s cheek before sitting down at the table and taking a big glug of cider. Izzy smiled at her. Bex always made a dramatic entrance. Bex swept the tangle of blonde hair out of her face, ran her fingers through it and seconds later the effortless beauty that Bex so easily pulled off had returned. Izzy always thought that Bex could be a supermodel, being so tall. She had big pouty lips that many women would pay good money to have, flawless skin, big blue eyes and a great pair of breasts. She was stunning. Unfortunately the fashion industry didn’t see beauty in size twenty women, which was their loss, Izzy thought. ‘Good day at the office?’ Bex shrugged. ‘My teeth fell out when I was with a visitor. It was hardly the professional image I was going for.’ Bex’s job was as far removed from the glamour of the catwalk as it could be. Working for The London Dungeon as one of the historical characters meant she spent most of the day wearing filthy clothes and looking as ugly and hideous as she possibly could be. ‘I’m sure teeth falling out works quite well with what you do, adds to the gore.’ ‘When your fake black teeth fall out leaving behind a perfect set of white gnashers, it kind of lacks the authenticity my job requires. I couldn’t find my teeth this morning so I had to borrow someone else’s and of course they didn’t fit and kept falling out. For the most part I managed to hide it, but during one big speech they fell out, straight onto the floor. The visitors all just burst out laughing, I was gutted. I had to quickly pick them up and put them back in, but they were already covered in ten tons of fur and dirt. It felt like I was chewing on fluff for the rest of the day. But I did scare the crap out of a few grown men and made a few children cry so yes, it was a pretty good day.’ ‘You’ll miss it when you leave.’ ‘Yes I will. How was your day?’ Izzy felt the smile stretch on her face. ‘I’ve got a job.’ ‘That’s fantastic, well done Iz, doing what?’ ‘Have you heard of a company called, “Kidnap My Wife?”’ Bex’s face fell. ‘Isabelle Franklin, what have you got yourself involved in?’ ‘It’s nothing dodgy. It’s a fantasy role play thing. We kidnap men’s wives and take them to some big house and the husbands tie them up and have sex with them.’ ‘How is that not dodgy?’ ‘It’s not, the wives know about it. Think Fifty Shades of Grey on a lesser scale.’ ‘So people pay to be kidnapped and tied up?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And what’s your job in all of this sordidness, you better not be the one being tied up.’ ‘No – office work, answering calls and all that.’ Bex was clearly still not happy about it. ‘Who do you work for?’ ‘Ethan Chase.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Ethan Chase? Oh god honey, you don’t half pick them. Couldn’t you get a nice sensible job in a library or somewhere safe like that, working for some eighty year old man that loves poetry and bird watching?’ ‘What’s wrong with Ethan?’ ‘What’s right with him? His family have a terrible reputation, if you’d grown up round here you would have heard of him. He’s a total womaniser too, different woman every week. He lays on all the charm, wines and dines them and they’re putty in his hands. Then he shags them and never speaks to them again.’ ‘Well that’s ok then, I don’t plan to sleep with him – just work for him.’ ‘Or under him.’ ‘Bex…’ ‘Is he fit?’ Izzy shrugged. ‘If you like that sort of thing.’ ‘And what sort of thing is that?’ ‘Big, muscular, blue eyes that look inside you.’ ‘So yes then. Just don’t be another notch on his bedpost. My friend’s sister went out with him. He took her to dinner, shagged her and she never heard from him again. She did say he was like a god between the sheets though and if she had the chance to do it all over again she would in a heartbeat.’ Izzy stared at her glass, not quite sure what to do with this information. ‘Good with his tongue too, if you know what I’m saying.’ ‘I think everyone in this pub knows what you’re saying. He’s my boss. I’m not going to sleep with him. How awkward would that be once it turned sour – which it sounds like it would do. And he would have to be a complete idiot to sleep with one of his employees. Rule number one, don’t mix business with pleasure.’ ‘So you’re not attracted to him at all?’ ‘No.’ That was a lie. She knew it and Bex knew it. ‘Does he have a nice arse?’ ‘I hadn’t noticed.’ Though Izzy knew Bex had seen her blush. Thankfully she was momentarily saved by the arrival of a cowboy, wearing jeans over beaten brown boots, a blue shirt rolled at the sleeves and a black Stetson. ‘Mmm, now that’s a rump I’d like to get my teeth into,’ Bex said, her eyes suddenly dark with lust. She stood up and stalked over to the unknowing cowboy, sank her talons into his behind and nipped at his ear. To his credit, he only jumped a little bit, then he whirled round and gathered her close, kissing her so deeply it was almost pornographic. ‘Put her down,’ called Brian the landlord as he plonked a pint down on the bar. ‘You don’t know where she’s been.’ Bex parted from her conquest and he whispered into her ear. Bex giggled. ‘Give me half hour.’ He whispered in her ear again and her eyes widened. ‘Ten minutes then.’ Clearly satisfied with this response, he dipped his hat in Izzy’s direction and walked back out. Bex stared after him for a moment, and then finally recovering herself she re-joined Izzy at their table. ‘I’m in love with my fiancé, did I ever mention that?’ ‘Only a few thousand times. You should have asked Gabe to join us for a drink.’ ‘He’s gone home to sort a few things out.’ Bex ran her tongue across her teeth unconsciously and Izzy tried to block out from her mind what exactly Gabe had gone to sort out. Izzy quickly changed the subject. ‘So apart from the womanising are there any other reasons I shouldn’t work for Ethan?’ ‘Well rumour has it he’s a drug dealer.’ ‘Come on, I don’t believe that for a second.’ ‘I’m just saying what I’ve heard. Whenever things get stolen in this area, everyone points to his family. They’ve never had any money or real jobs but they all live in nice houses. He’s got a hell of a temper.’ Izzy had already borne witness to some of that, she could cope with grumpiness. ‘Quite violent, I hear.’ Bex took another big gulp of cider. ‘With women?’ ‘No, I’ve not heard that, but he’s got into quite a few punch ups in his time.’ ‘Maybe wrong place, wrong time.’ ‘Wrong man more like. He hit a policeman when he was younger.’ Although Izzy was not surprised about this, she still felt like she needed to defend him. ‘I prefer to judge people on the type of person they are now, not who they were in the past. We all have a history, ours is hardly squeaky clean.’ Bex had the good grace to blush, but it was only fleetingly. ‘A leopard never changes its spots.’ ‘You’re so cynical for someone so young.’ ‘And you’re so naïve for someone so old.’ ‘Eight months Rebecca Dale, eight months older than you does not make me old.’ ‘Look, your decrepitness aside, the whole Chase family is a bad lot from what I hear, one of them went to prison.’ ‘Gizmo. Ethan’s brother. He’s been in prison.’ ‘Sexual assault. I’m sure it was.’ Izzy felt affronted on Gizmo’s behalf. ‘That definitely wasn’t Gizmo. He’s not the type to do anything like that.’ ‘So rapists are all a type are they, tall, white, brown hair, evil look in their eyes?’ ‘No, but Gizmo is … kind of innocent.’ Izzy had chatted to him when he had driven her home earlier and it had become obvious very quickly that he had a sweet childlike naivety. He loved Ethan with a fierce loyalty that was incredibly endearing. He loved his job, loved the frost on the trees that clung to the bare branches like fur. He loved his dog Sampson so much that there were fifteen photos in Gizmo’s wallet that Izzy had seen. After ten minutes in the van with his exuberant enthusiasm Izzy had fallen a little bit in love with him too. There was no way he could be a rapist. ‘Of Mice and Men, that’s all I’m saying,’ Bex said. ‘He’s not stupid Bex, nor is he violent.’ ‘You always like to see the best in people.’ ‘And you always like to see the worst.’ ‘I’m a realist.’ ‘I’m an optimist.’ Bex smiled. ‘And that’s why I love you. Just be wary of him, both of them, and if they lay one finger on you – you tell me and Gabe, we’ll sort them out.’ Izzy decided, then and there, that she wouldn’t tell Bex how she had met Ethan and Gizmo in the first place. Bex fished around in her bag and pulled out a pot of green cream. She stuck her fingers in and scooped out a dollop which she rubbed into her hands. It stank of a peculiar combination of coriander and green tea. Bex was always carrying these homemade concoctions around with her, but her skin always looked radiant and blemish free so it must have some benefits. Bex had made cures for dry skin, spots, scars, burns and chapped lips to name but a few. Izzy was sure she probably had a truth telling ointment and one for eternal life somewhere up her sleeve. Five hundred years before, Bex would have been burned at the stake. ‘Do you have anything for sweat spots?’ Izzy sniffed at the green gloop. ‘Where are the spots?’ ‘On my bum. I bought some new jogging pants and I wore them once and they made me sweat so much I came out in spots. Most of them have gone but one little bugger remains.’ ‘You’re such a classy bird, I do wonder why you’re still single. Please tell me you’ve done something about your scary bikini line. Last time I saw it, it was like some kind of terrifying swamp monster was trying to escape from your pants.’ Izzy blushed. ‘Admittedly I have let things lapse a bit lately. It’s hard to find the motivation when the only person that sees it is me.’ ‘And me. And to be honest darling, that’s not something I ever want to see again. Come on then, show us your spot.’ ‘I’m not pulling my jeans down in the pub for all and sundry to see.’ Bex stood up and frogmarched Izzy into the nearest toilet. ‘Drop them.’ Izzy rolled her eyes. She had known Bex since before she could walk. There were no secrets between them. Izzy unzipped her jeans and slipped them down a bit so Bex could inspect the spot. ‘Bloody hell, Iz, that’s huge. It’s got a life of its own that one. It probably has its own brain cells, its own thoughts. We should give it a name. Bert.’ Bex prodded it and Izzy winced. ‘Hello Bert.’ Just then the toilet door swung open and a very glamorous women walked in. The Frog and Sausage had a very strict dress code. Jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, trainers, wellies and the occasional cowboy hat were all welcome. This lady looked like she’d come straight from Ascot with her tailored suit jacket and matching silk dress. She took one look at Izzy with her bum out and Bex bent over to inspect the spot up close and hurried back out again. Bex burst out laughing and Izzy groaned. ‘I’m going to the loo whilst I’m in here, get another round in will you?’ Bex handed Izzy a tenner. Izzy walked out into the pub and saw Ethan with the Ascot Lady. His eyes caught hers and Izzy felt something shift inside her. ‘I just walked in on two lesbians about to have sex.’ Ascot Lady was saying, pulling her jacket tighter around her as she looked around The Frog with disgust. ‘It’s obviously some kind of sordid gay bar. I’d like to leave.’ Ethan still didn’t take his eyes off Izzy and Ascot Lady turned round to see what he was looking at. ‘That’s one of them,’ she hissed. Great. Just great. Ethan put his arm round Ascot Lady’s shoulders and ushered her out. He glanced back over at Izzy as he walked out and she was sure there was a smirk on his lips. * Tied Up With Love is out on February 14th and you can get your copy here on Amazon UK http://amzn.to/1xJPpra It is also available at Amazon.com and at Amazon.ca |
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