The Last Christmas by Seelie Kay (@SeelieKay)

What we all love at Christmas: A heart-warming contemporary romance. And today we have a brand new release from Extasy Books that promises to fulfil all our Christmas wishes:

THE LAST CHRISTMAS by SEELIE KAY

First, a few questions for Seelie:

Q.  Why do you write romance?

Because I am fascinated by the games people play to find and secure a lasting relationship, which is not always love. There’s the chase, the courtship, the falling, the surrender. That’s what I try to capture in my stories.

Q.  Do you prefer a certain type of romantic hero?

I adore smart, dashing gentlemen who aren’t afraid to live on the edge. They can be a bad boy, a billionaire, a prince, or a secret agent. That hint of danger just hooks me! However, I they have to be paired with strong, independent women who aren’t afraid to fight for what they want, even love.

Q.  Why did you write “The Last Christmas?”

My father is 94-years-old and as you might expect, has had a number of serious medical, age-related events. Each time, we were told to prepare for his death. Each time, he survived. The fact was, my Dad wasn’t ready to die. And his children and his grandchildren weren’t ready to let him go either. So I started thinking about terminal diagnoses and how they are really a best guess, not a guarantee. That, of course, led to thoughts how a terminal diagnosis often causes people to give up and prematurely mourn the death of the person who is ill. I wondered how that impacted the outcome. And because I was preparing to write a holiday book, I also started thinking about the power of family, and how, time after time, families are capable of creating miracles.

That led me to “The Last Christmas.” Christmas truly is a time for miracles, and thought it important that everyone be able to experience one through the tale of the Wright Family.

Blurb:

When the doctors say there’s no hope, Santa begs to differ. After all, he claims, miracles are love combined with action to get the desired result. And at Christmas time, everyone deserves a miracle!

David Wright is dying from cancer. He is not expected to see another Christmas. At least that’s what the medical professionals say. Fortunately, Santa begs to differ. After all, modern medicine is nothing more than a best guess. Santa believes anything is possible until you give up. When Santa tells David’s wife, Joan, that heaven is full and she has to keep her husband alive, she is beside herself. She has no medical skills. How can she save anyone’s life? Set your skepticism aside as Santa embraces a family already mourning their father’s terminal diagnosis and teaches them that a Christmas miracle doesn’t always require heavenly intervention. Sometimes, all it takes is a family with enough love to create their own. As Santa says, a true miracle is when love combines with action to get the desired results. And only humans are capable of that. Will Santa’s words fall on deaf ears? Or will Team Wright find a way to save their father’s life?

 

Excerpt:

“It’s not about you, it’s about him, Joan,” a grumbly voice said. “You’re looking at this all wrong.”

Joan turned so fast she almost lost her balance. She glared at the old man who had spoken. He was around seventy, with ruddy cheeks and twinkling blue eyes. And thick white hair. Lots of white hair. Flowing over his shoulders, winding up in a very lush beard. On top of his head was perched a brightly colored red knit hat. She frowned. “Wait a minute. You’re Santa Claus. Without the red suit, but clearly, you’re him. I’d know you anywhere.”

The man bowed and with a smile, said, “At your service.” He gestured toward a park across the street. “Let’s take a walk.”

“Oh, no. I’m not going anywhere with you.” Joan shook her head. “I didn’t mean you actually were Santa Claus. Everyone knows he doesn’t exist. I just meant you looked like him. You’re just a man who looks like him. I don’t know you. Why would I…” She glared at him. “You’re not even wearing a red suit. And since when has Santa taken up armchair psychiatry?”  She ran a hand through her blonde hair. “I must be hallucinating.” Despite her objections, she followed him across the street.

Santa laughed. “My dear, I have been dispensing advice since I was old enough to talk and make people listen. God chose my role a long time ago and I have gotten very good at it.” He looked toward the heavens. “Sorry, old boy. Still working on that humility!” He chuckled. “Man never stops reminding me.” He smiled at Joan. “Do you sense any ill-intentions from me? Of course not. I’m Santa. All I want to do is talk.”

Joan reached out and touched his shoulder.

He laughed again. A laugh that came directly from his belly. “Yes, I’m real. Well, as real as a centuries-old spirit gets. I even eat all those cookies children leave me each year. And let me tell you, that’s a heavenly feat.” Again, he looked skyward. “Yes, sir, I am well aware that borders on gluttony. A sin. You know darn well it has nothing to do with gluttony and everything to do with the magic of Christmas, an affirmation that Santa is real. I do it for the children.” He smiled at Joan. “Sometimes, He gets a little overbearing with his angels.”

He smirked. “Even God has his faults. He is by no means perfect.” A strong wind swirled through the plaza, nearly catching his knitted cap. He clapped his hand on his head to hold it down. He whispered, “And he doesn’t take criticism too well, either.”

Joan stared at the man. Surely, she was losing it. Santa a spirit, an angel? He and God didn’t even travel in the same circles. She shook her head, trying to make the hallucination go away.

Santa sighed. “I know, I know. You’ve been taught that I’m not real. That I’m a myth. That’s a rumor started by Satan himself, the old devil. He can’t stand the fact that people embrace the goodness in the world. And that I spread good cheer. He would much rather unleash a plague and make people miserable. He hates Christmas. He hates that the birth of Christ is celebrated, and his birth, well, is not. He really can’t stand the fact that love binds people so tightly during the holidays.” Santa shook his fist toward the ground. “The fool pouts all through the holidays.” He then sat up straight and gazed at Joan. “Christmas is really about love, you know. All kinds of love. The type of love he’ll never have. Love of family, love of children, love of—”

“What the heck do you want?” Joan blurted. “People are starting to stare.”

 

Buy links:

“The Last Christmas” is scheduled for release on December 11, 2020 and will be available from all major booksellers, including-- 

Extasy Books:  Preorder Link Available November 27, 2020

 

About Seelie Kay:

Seelie Kay is a nom de plume for a writer, editor, and author with more than 30 years of experience in law, journalism, marketing, and public relations. When she writes about love and lust in the legal world, something kinky is bound to happen!  In possession of a wicked pen and an overly inquisitive mind, Ms. Kay is the author of 18 works of fiction, including the Kinky Briefs series, the Feisty Lawyers series, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, The White House Wedding, and The President’s Daughter. 

When not spinning her kinky tales, Ms. Kay ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. She resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where she shares a home with her son and enjoys opera, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine. 

Ms. Kay is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS:  Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!

Author Links:

Keelie's Website

Keelie's Blog

Twitter: @SeelieKay 

Facebook

Instagram

Amazonauthor page

 

Prior Books:

Kinky Briefs

Kinky Briefs, Too

Kinky Briefs, Thrice

Kinky Briefs, Quatro

Kinky Briefs, Cinque

The Garage Dweller

A Touchdown to Remember

The President’s Wife

Snatching Dianna

The President’s Daughter

Infamy

Seizing Hope

Cult

Hope

The White House Wedding

Martimus

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First, We Kill all the Lawyers - by Seelie Kay (@SeelieKay)

Released today courtesy of Extasy Books - a sizzling, brand new Contemporary Romantic Suspense novel by Seelie Kay:

FIRST, WE KILL ALL THE LAWYERS

What an intriguing title!  Before we find out more about the story, let's start with a few questions for Seelie:

Q.  Why do you write romance?

Because I am fascinated by the games people play to find and secure a lasting relationship, which is not always love. There’s the chase, the courtship, the falling, the surrender. That’s what I try to capture in my stories. 

Q.  Do you prefer a certain type of romantic hero?

I adore smart, dashing gentlemen who aren’t afraid to live on the edge. They can be a bad boy, a billionaire, a prince, or a secret agent. That hint of danger just hooks me! However, they have to be paired with strong, independent women who aren’t afraid to fight for what they want, even love. 

Q.  Why did you write “First, We Kill All the Lawyers?”

I have wanted to write a vampire tale for some time, but had difficulty coming up with something consistent with current tropes. Finally, I decided it was time to break all the rules. After all, vampires have been around for centuries. Surely, they have evolved by now. And no doubt, they have many of the same societal problems that humans do. However, I also wanted the vampire to be a lawyer. The title came from my experience as a lawyer. I can’t tell you how many times someone would quote Dick the Butcher, “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.” (Shakespeare, Henry VI, Part 2, Act IV, Scene 2.) They would laugh heartily, like they had just told a wonderful joke, but for me, it was great inspiration for a story. What if someone was killing lawyers? 

Q.   Obviously your former profession as a lawyer impacts your writing!

My friends say I am obsessed with justice and I guess that’s true. After 30 years, the law and the legal world are so firmly embedded in my brain that I can’t flush them out. That has become the lens through which I view the world and that naturally guides my characters and plots. Injustice infuriates me, but it also leads me to great stories! Even in this book, I find a way to explore social and criminal justice issues.

Let's not wait any longer, let's hear more about the book with the fascinating title.

Blurb:

Someone is killing lawyers, but a particular vampire lawyer won’t stay dead. 

Donovan Trait is a marked man. Flamboyant, stunningly handsome, and notoriously insatiable, his attitude and style belie his skills in the courtroom. No one survives a cross-examination at Donovan’s hands. His knowledge of the law and trial practice has accumulated over the years… and years, of experience. More than three hundred years. You see, when Donovan isn’t seducing judges and juries, he’s a creature of the night. And now that someone has decided that it’s time to kill all lawyers, his lust for attention has set him in the murderer’s sights. The problem is, vampires don’t die. Not easily, anyway. That’s good news for Donovan, not so much for his very human lady love, also a target of the serial killer. Will several unsuccessful attempts on his life expose Donovan’s true nature? Will the killer learn the secret that will guarantee a permanent death? Or will Donovan finally manage to put an end to the killer’s murderous spree and live happily ever after, with his lady love?

Excerpt:

Donovan’s cell phone pinged. He pulled himself into a small alleyway, away from the stampede trudging back to their workplaces after lunch, and leaned back against a building to read a text. His face screwed up in confusion. The text read, The first thing we do, let’s kill all lawyers! Starting with you!

“What the bloody hell?” he muttered. “Is this some kind of joke?” Donovan’s eyes surveyed his surroundings. He gazed right, then left. It did not appear that someone had made him the focus of their attention. Everyone was scurrying about, like mice in pursuit of a big cheese. “Must be Finley,” he said. “Finley is always plying me with lawyer jokes. He thinks he’s funny.”

Donovan shrugged. Not funny at all. He left the alleyway and re-entered the mass migration on the sidewalk. He approached the crosswalk at Michigan and Superior and emitted a snort of frustration as the light changed and the crosswalk filled with cars. He was bumped hard by someone behind him. Donovan was forced to step into the street to regain his balance. A cab rushed by and narrowly missed clipping his side. Donovan jumped back onto the sidewalk.

A woman screamed and Donovan jerked his head around, trying to see what all the fuss was about. The woman was pointing at him. Donovan frowned and turned away. God save me from simpering females who saw the last issue of City Magazine. Donovan had appeared on the cover after being named as one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors. Since then, he had learned that the female population was comprised of women of questionable morals and distressing behavior. He was growing weary of the attention. While his colleagues thought it a wise marketing strategy, it had brought him nothing but unwanted female attention. He had become prey.

Vampires were predators. They stalked their victims. Sometimes, they pursued them with a vengeance. That was why he had joined the legal profession. His predilections were well-suited to that particular world. Now, his role had apparently shifted and he was not pleased.

Someone tapped Donovan on the shoulder. “Sir? Are you alright? You’re bleeding. It appears someone stuck a knife into your side.”

Donovan’s mouth gaped and he turned toward the man who had spoken. Then he looked at where the man pointed. There was indeed a knife sticking out of his left side and a stream of his blood was flowing onto the sidewalk. He had a very high threshold of pain. He hadn’t felt the knife thrust into his side. If it wasn’t so appalling, he would be embarrassed. Donovan opened his mouth to reply. Then the pain in his side exploded and his vision dulled. Slowly he slid onto the sidewalk as if he planned to sit on the curb.

Then everything went black. 

Book Trailer: 

Buy links:

ExtasyBooks 

Also available from

Amazon:  

Barnes & Noble:  

Kobo:  

 

About Seelie Kay:

Seelie Kay is a nom de plume for a writer, editor, and author with more than 30 years of experience in law, journalism, marketing, and public relations. When she writes about love and lust in the legal world, something kinky is bound to happen!  In possession of a wicked pen and an overly inquisitive mind, Ms. Kay is the author of 18 works of fiction, including the Kinky Briefs series, the Feisty Lawyers series, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, The White House Wedding, and The President’s Daughter. 

When not spinning her kinky tales, Ms. Kay ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. She resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where she shares a home with her son and enjoys opera, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.

Ms. Kay is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS:  Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!

Author links:

Keelie's Website

Keelie's Blog

Twitter: @SeelieKay 

Facebook

Instagram

Amazonauthor page

 

Prior Books:

 

Kinky Briefs

Kinky Briefs, Too

Kinky Briefs, Thrice

Kinky Briefs, Quatro

Kinky Briefs, Cinque

The Garage Dweller

A Touchdown to Remember

The President’s Wife

Snatching Dianna

The President’s Daughter

Infamy

Seizing Hope

Cult

Hope

The White House Wedding

Martimus

 

Coming soon:

The Last Christmas, date of release:  December 11, 2020.

Valentine Special Offer: 'With Love' - 3 heart-melting romances

When I produced my boxed set of three contemporary romances, my intention was to make this special officer set available for two limited 2-3 week periods around Christmas and Valentine's Day. The set is now available once again until February 21st only.

For $3.99 plus VAT—that's less than half the price of the three individual books—you can buy all three heart-melting romances during the first three weeks of February.




The individual stories are:

The Apple Tree - Prism Book Group's Grand Prize Winner of 2011

A disaffected young hospital doctor mistakes a successful businessman for a gardener and an unlikely love blossoms.  

But she has a past she wants to forget and he lives by strong principles of truth which drive them on separate, painful journeys of self-discovery. 

Wishful Thinking - Amazon UK's #1 seller in 2012

A struggling single mother and a pop-icon turned Hollywood star meet in unusual circumstances. 
Fate drew them together but the intrigue and trappings of stardom threaten to unravel love's ties.








Shopping for Love

They shop for others out of kindness and naturally fall in love; but he is still raw from his painful divorce and she is his children's teacher.  
Add to the mix a spiteful ex-wife and scheming ex-boyfriend and love may have too high a price tag.


Click on any of the covers to take you to Amazon (US) or any of the links below for more information about each story:

Amazon UK 
Amazon US
My Website

Happy Valentine's Day to all my readers!

That First Kiss - Shopping for Love

Shopping for Love is about two fairly ordinary people who meet in a local supermarket shopping out of love or concern for two elderly people, only to find love themselves.  I wanted to create a stronger male character in this story - and one with a (larger than) life of his own.  And Greg willingly stepped forward!  In many respects he became more significant than Emma.  (I'd love to be able to include photos of how I envision him physically, but haven't succeeded in getting permission to use the photos I found.  For anyone interested, however, I see him as cross between Tom Hiddleston in this photo: http://goo.gl/3f6nG and the lovely antiques dealer, Paul Martin - check out his photo here: http://goo.gl/tn8mG).

Greg, a divorcee, works in the unglamorous world of software development in a top investment bank.  He has two young children and an ex-wife who left him, but can't quite let go of him and when it seems Greg has found love at last, the former wife tries to sabotage his blossoming relationship.  This remains fairly chaste for some time as Emma, too, is recovering from an unhappy relationship. She is also the teacher of Greg's youngest child, which causes added complications.

Here is their first kiss:

Later on they sat together on the voluptuous leather sofa listening to an incredibly sexy saxophone dominating a romantic jazz tune.  His fingers played with a curling tendril of her hair which had escaped her antique barrette and tumbled naughtily across her cheek.  He coiled it around his finger, deliberately letting the back of his hand caress her cheek.  She felt relaxed and calm, enjoying the intimacy of his touch.

“You don’t need to, you know,” he murmured in her ear.  “Drive home, I mean.”

She tilted her head slightly and their eyes locked as the saxophonist continued to weave his spell.  Greg tucked the strand of hair behind her ear and laid his palm against her cheek.  He brought his other hand to the other cheek, cradling her face between his long fingers as he continued to look deep into her eyes. 

It made her feel precious, revered almost, the way he gazed at her and slowly, very slowly brought his lips to ghost over hers.  It was barely a touch yet it sent a shiver of longing surging through her.  He began scattering tiny, tentative kisses around her lips and face before his mouth once again made contact with hers and began its soft, teasing nibbling. 

He’s not rushing me.  If I pull away, he’ll stop, she thought.  But why should I, when I really don’t want him to stop?  Not yet, anyway.  She raised her arms to encircle his neck and the gesture drew him closer, allowing his kiss to deepen into a passionate intimacy.  He kisses beautifully, she thought with a thrill.  I knew he would!

(Further (new) information about Shopping for Love will soon be available at: http://askdavid.com)

Wednesday's Writer - Paula Martin

I feel rather ashamed that it took me as long as it did to discover my featured author this week.  Ashamed not just because she's a fellow Northerner writing in a similar genre to myself, but more especially because she's such an excellent writer.  I'm very pleased, therefore, to have read and reviewed her latest release Changing the Future and I hope everyone who trusts my judgement will read it also.

Blurb:

Lisa Marshall is stunned when celebrated volcanologist Paul Hamilton comes back into her life at the college where she now teaches. Despite their acrimonious break-up several years earlier, they soon realise the magnetic attraction between them is stronger than ever. However, the past is still part of the present, not least when Paul discovers Lisa has a young son. They can’t change that past, but will it take a volcanic eruption to help them change the future? 

Changing the Future

 This was one of those novels that immersed me in its world right from the start. It felt like the sort of cosy chick-flick I enjoy curling up on the sofa to watch on rainy Sunday afternoons. I immediately identified with the characters and became engrossed in their lives and conflicts and from the first page on it was an easy, smooth and deeply satisfying read.

College lecturer, Lisa Marshall, has brought up her young son, Nicky as a single parent, having parted from his father before his birth. In fact, the father, the rather gorgeous Paul Hamilton, expert volcanologist (nothing at all to do with Star Trek!) turned TV celebrity knows nothing about his son. This naturally causes big problems for Lisa when he turns up at her college to take over some geosciences classes as a favour for a mutual friend.

It soon becomes evident that the two still harbour powerful feelings for each other but neither can get past their painfully acrimonious separation of five years previously. This becomes `the elephant in the room' between them as they find themselves constantly thrown into each other's company. Despite all their avowals to avoid each other, their romance is rekindled and the depth of their feelings for each other is unmistakable. But misunderstandings abound and past grievances once again rear their heads and their second break-up looks destined to be their last. It seems only some earth-shattering event can bring these two to where they rightfully belong - with each other. I'm not going to say any more because I'd hate to ruin the pleasure for other readers and I always try to avoid spoilers.

Having read of this writer's love of England's beautiful Lake District, I rather expected more of a sense of location in this novel. However the splendour of New York and the grandeur of Iceland more than compensated for this and I was totally entranced by both.

This may have been the first novel I've read from this author but it certainly won't be the last! Changing the Future is a deeply satisfying story and one I would highly recommend to all lovers of romance.  Very definitely worthy of my top cute cats award.

About the author:

Paula Martin had some early publishing success with short stories and four contemporary romance novels, but then had a break from writing while she brought up a young family and also pursued her career as a history teacher for twenty-five years. She has recently returned to writing fiction, after retiring from teaching, and has had three romance novels published, ‘His Leading Lady’ in June 2011, ‘Fragrance of Violets’ in February 2012, and ‘Changing the Future’ in May 2012 (all available on Amazon). Another novel ‘Her Only Option’ will be published in November 2012 and she is currently working on two more.

She lives near Manchester in North-West England, and has two daughters and two grandsons. Apart from writing, she enjoys visiting new places and has travelled extensively in Britain, mainland Europe, the Middle East, America and Canada. Her favourite places are the English Lake District and Ireland. She’s also interested in musical theatre and tracing her family history.

You can find out more about this excellent author from the links below:

Website: http://paulamartinromances@webs.com

Blog: http://paulamartinpotpourri.blogspot.com

Group Blog (with 3 other writers): http://heroineswithhearts.blogspot.com

Link for US readers: http://amzn.com/B0082VIXNU

Six Sentence Sunday

Well it is Sunday here already, so hopefully I'll be forgiven for starting early!

This week for my Six Sentence Sunday contribution, I thought I'd offer something from my latest contemporary romance, Shopping for Love.  This rather desperate little speech is uttered by my lovely hero, Greg - who has just about reached the end of his tether, poor darling.  Can you blame him?

"Whoa there!  Who said anything at all about happy families?  I’ve not had a single happy moment this week, thanks for asking.  My grandfather keeps drifting in and out of a coma; I’ve dragged my father from the other side of the world only to watch him cry like a baby and know there’s nothing I can do to help him; I’ve had to turn a blind eye to blatant fraud at work; your ex-boyfriend keeps badgering me to criminalise myself and as for Josie – don’t even get me started on that poisonous bitch.  And the sweetest, most wonderful creature ever to enter my life – the one shining light that could have made everything else tolerable for me – has locked me out in the cold.  Refused to talk to me, to explain what I’m supposed to have done that’s so heinous."

You can check out other participating blogs here: http://www.sixsunday.com/

Six Sentence Sunday

Welcome to this week’s Six Sentence Sunday where I choose six sentences from one of my books. This weekend (since it’s available FREE on Amazon today and because today is also my birthday) I’m offering a little snippet from my debut contemporary romance The Apple Tree, which was the the Grand Prize Winner of Inspired Romance Novels' 2011 Writing Contest. 

The Apple Tree

Their eyes met for an instant but he was guarded, his mask of indifference firmly back in place.  He shrugged and looked off into the distance as they began to walk back to the cemetery gate along one of the narrow gravel paths between the rows of graves, many of which were adorned with huge flowers in their many autumnal shades of rust and yellow. 

"It’s nothing," he replied dismissively and they walked the rest of the way in silence, leaving Julie wrestling with her emotions.  She wanted to shout, but it is! It is!  How can I bear your kindness when I know you have such a low opinion of me?  

I hope you'll support me and download your FREE copy of The Apple Tree today.  This is available from:

UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Apple-Tree-ebook/dp/B006MGDABW/ref=pd_sim_kinc_1

US: http://www.amazon.com/The-Apple-Tree-ebook/dp/B006MGDABW/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_img_1

Check out other participating blogs here

The cover unveiled!

I was beginning to think it was never going to come together, but here it is - at last, courtesy of Hot Damn Designs (with a little bit of help from my friends).

Now I'm getting very excited about the release of my new contemporary romance 'Shopping for Love' next week.  I've already given a sneak peak of the opening chapter, so here's the blurb:

Love can find you in the strangest places - but it's never for sale!

They meet - of all places - buying tomatoes in the supermarket and there’s no denying the attraction is mutual.  But Greg, a software developer, is still raw from his painful divorce and Emma, his children’s teacher, is recovering from her own heartache.  Then the reappearance of Emma's career-obsessed ex-boyfriend and Greg's spiteful ex-wife threatens to kill their new love before it has even begun.

Is Emma’s love strong enough to survive Greg’s demanding past and the threats to both their careers?  What will be the cost of falling in love in a world where everything comes with a high price tag?

I hope you like the cover - and I really hope you'll like the story.


Here's a further snippet from Chapter One:

Seeing the ‘labels girl’, as he had come to think of her, standing next to him contemplating her purchase of tomatoes seemed like divine intervention.  Striking up conversation over the merits of tomatoes was hardly high on his list of chat-up lines, but as far as openers go, it did the trick.  Now at least they would be on smiling terms when they met.  Hell, they even had something in common – they both shopped for love – that is, suffered the ordeal for elderly hard-to-please relatives.  At least he presumed her old lady was a relative of some sorts. If he’d had longer to chat, he might have found out.

♥

Almost here!

My latest contemporary romance 'Shopping for Love' is due for release next week - providing I can iron out the minor detail of the cover in time! It's being worked on by a great cover artist, but we haven't yet managed to agree all the details, so I can't include a sneak peek here. However, I can include a quick peek at the opening.

She heard him muttering under his breath in the vegetable aisle – the one with the salads, cucumbers and tomatoes. I do that too, she thought. I wonder if other people notice me doing it. It wasn’t a question that worried her too much. Supermarkets were so big and impersonal and forever shifting their stock around as if the management lived in perpetual fear of customers growing too complacent about finding what they wanted. It was hardly surprising that confused and harried customers muttered to themselves as they went through the trauma of their weekly shopping ordeal.

The thing about this muttering customer, though, was that he was extraordinarily good-looking, in Emma’s eyes. He didn’t seem the type to be frequenting a supermarket alone on a Friday evening, much less muttering under his breath like he might be declaring war on it! Emma smiled to herself as she deftly swung her trolley around him and stood facing the rows of tomatoes – the supermarket’s top picks, not the rows upon rows of blushing red, orange and yellow jewels glistening in boxes, clinging to vines or nestling shyly together in punnets with little ribbons saying ‘ripen at home’. She’d tried all those and Joan had complained about them: too sour, too tasteless, too tough, too squishy etc., etc.

After surveying the array of so-called ‘deluxe’ produce before her, Emma reached up to the top row to the most expensive pack of all. Surely that meant they had to be the best? As she reached for the plastic container, her hand touched another hand reaching for the same box. She withdrew hers rapidly, as though she’d been stung, and glanced to her left with an apologetic air. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, simultaneously. It was the gorgeous, muttering man. “Allow me.”

“Oh no, I was just looking,” Emma said. She felt very silly. Just looking? At tomatoes? How stupid does that sound?

“I know, it’s very difficult to know what to choose, don’t you agree? I mean, whatever I buy, my grandfather will find something to grumble about.”

“Oh.” Emma smiled; it was her biggest and best offering. “I’m shopping for a rather fussy old person too. I sometimes think she gets more pleasure out of complaining than living.” She heard him give a throaty chuckle, which sounded rather sexy, as he turned and looked at her for a moment.

“Are you sure you’re not my grandfather’s secret shopper?”

He had a very pleasing twinkle in his deep brown eyes, Emma observed. She widened her smile for him. “Oh no, my Nemesis is definitely female.”

He picked up two packs of tomatoes from the top shelf. The leather on his jacket creaked as he stretched his arm and she could just catch the faintest whiff of its pleasant, earthy smell.

“Well maybe these will appease their fastidious tastes?”

Together they gazed at the array of tomatoes huddled under the cellophane wrapper. The label proclaimed them to be hand-picked for sweetness and flavour and their assortment of colours and sizes certainly made them look more interesting than the uniform red ones. She caught the scent of his cologne: deep spice tones with a hint of citrus. It smelled expensive. Emma wondered, irrelevantly, if it was his own choice, or a gift from a woman.

“These get my vote,” he said. “Let’s go for it and we can meet here next week and compare notes.”

He said it jokingly but she smiled and nodded as she accepted the box and placed it in her shopping trolley. When she could think of no reason to linger further, she nodded and smiled a bit more before consulting her list and moving off towards the next aisle.

She rather hoped he might follow her, or that she would encounter him again in a different aisle, but no such luck. She’d read magazine articles about supermarkets being the latest venues for people to meet but hadn’t believed them for a minute. She came to this one every Friday at more or less the same time to do Joan’s shopping and pick up a few things for her herself for the weekend and had never even seen, much less talked to anyone remotely date-worthy. Until today.

Sterodent. She checked her list and rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten Joan’s denture cleaner and had to back-track to the dental products aisle. She was such a disorganised shopper, hating it so much. For her own needs she could happily shop at the corner shop with its deli-counter and mini-market but Joan was far more fastidious than Emma. At 87, Emma conceded, she had a right to be so.

Her servitude to Joan started some three years previously. Joan lived in a small and pleasant block of manager-supervised flats next to the little cottage Emma had inherited from her grandmother. She often saw Joan pottering about in the well-kept grounds in the evening when she came home from school. Joan used to be a teacher too and she enjoyed chatting to Emma about her day and comparing notes about her own teaching days. How very different those days were.

Some two or three years ago, Joan disappeared for several weeks and the little patch of garden she always tended herself became overgrown. There was a flourishing rosemary bush to which Joan had invited Emma to help herself should she ever need that herb in cooking and Emma had rather cheekily, but discreetly, taken a cutting from it for her own garden.

Emma wondered vaguely what had happened to Joan and considered approaching the scheme manager to enquire, but she wasn’t sure then how to do that and more pressing matters always seemed to get in the way. The next time Emma saw Joan, she was limping and heavily reliant on a stick. Emma watched her surveying her little patch and looking sorrowful.

“My gardening days are over. I’m to be moved to Fernleas.” Joan told her mournfully.

“But why?” Emma asked in concern.

“I’m not mobile enough to manage here as I can’t do my own shopping anymore; much less tend my little patch of garden. They say I need a residential place. It will break my heart to leave.”

“But I can help with your shopping, if that’s the main problem.” Emma assured her quickly. Too quickly, but that had always been one of her faults. And that was how it all began; her servitude to Joan.

Not that Emma minded, most of the time. Joan was profoundly grateful and it was no hardship to collect her meagre list and stop off at the supermarket on her way home from school each Friday. School generally finished early on Fridays – the one day no meetings were ever scheduled and the supermarket was just around the corner from it. She would drop Joan’s shopping off, idle away half an hour or so chatting with the old lady and then go home. It wasn’t as if she ever had any more pressing engagements these days. Especially since Bailey had mumbled his excuses and fled her life. He’d left a gap which Emma felt she’d never be able to fill.

After a time, Joan gave up attempting to leave the building, only venturing out of her tiny flat once a week to hobble to the room at the end of her corridor where the hairdresser came to wash and set the old people’s hair. As long as Emma did her shopping, however, she was able to retain her independence and her dignity. She had no family and no friends mobile enough to help her or even visit her. She received her lunch courtesy of Meals on Wheels but managed to fend for herself at breakfast and supper thanks to her personal shopper. Emma was acutely aware that if she didn’t fulfil this service, Joan would have no choice but to succumb to a residential care home to await her eventual death.

During the past few months, Emma noticed that Joan grumbled a lot more about minor things. She swore her loaves of bread and pots of yoghurt were getting smaller, her concentrated orange more dilute, her loo paper thinner and such little gripes. Emma worried at first but then learned to dismiss the complaints which gradually escalated week by week, instead trying to distract Joan with more cheerful observations. She found the constant complaints depressing.

Emma told her about the nice man in the tomatoes aisle, but Joan showed little interest in him. Instead she peered at the tomatoes with a look of suspicion. “In my day, tomatoes were always red,” she observed, poking at the cellophane with her arthritic finger.

Emma laughed. “Yes, we thought these would amuse you. They look interesting, don’t you think? If you don’t like them, I’ll look for some different ones next week.” She wondered if she would ever see the tomato man again.

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Here is an except from Chapter 5 of this prize-winning romance.

She gazed at a street lamp in front of her, watching the moths jostling for position as they flapped round and round.  She thought Nicholas was like that light, attracting all the moth-like creatures, the Annabels, the Clarissas, the Livvies and probably many more, all irresistibly drawn to his lovely flame.  He could have married any one of them and made the same mistake as her.  Had he always been entirely truthful with them all?  Had he never come close to feeling that intensity of emotion he seemed to have shared with her, close enough at least to have wrong-footed somewhere en route?  Could he really know himself so well and be so perfect?  Robert certainly thought so.  He made him sound like a saint.  Saint Nicholas—no, sorry, got one of those already—and he was a do-gooder too!

Some ten or fifteen minutes must have passed and Julie wondered if Livvie and Nicholas had finished ‘catching up’ and whether Nicholas had been left with sufficient strength to have maneuvered her car from the drive without further damage to either it or the van.  Damage her insurance company would now have to sort out for her.

“There you are!” he exclaimed from a point close behind her.  “I’ve seen to your car for you.”

“And Livvie too, I trust?”

He actually managed the merest flicker of a smile, if it wasn’t just a tic in his cheek, that is.  Livvie’s ‘catching up’ must have been very therapeutic, Julie thought.

“She’s an old friend,” he explained dismissively, to no-one in particular.

But not very old, Julie thought.  Then she caught her breath as Nicholas came to sit on the bench beside her.  At last he was coming to his senses!

“Can I ask you one question, Julie?  Was it because you thought I was a simple gardener that you felt you had free license to trample on my feelings?”

She groaned.  “Oh Nicholas, you know that isn’t true.”

“Then it seems I know very little,” he replied dryly.  “I suggest you go home now before you freeze to death.”

She jumped up from the bench, her feet, in their light, strappy sandals smarting with the cold as she planted them solidly in front of him and gazed down at him.  “My marriage was over long before I met you.  It was a mistake that should never have happened.  I was ashamed of it.  It was like my career in a way.  Passing your exams doesn’t automatically make you a good doctor in exactly the same way that signing a book in a registry office doesn’t automatically mean that you’ll have a good marriage, or even a proper one!  Simon and I were never really husband and wife, we were just good friends.”

“Simon?”  He nodded and repeated the name in a voice heavy with sarcasm.  “Simple Simon?  Simply making mistakes?”

Julie knew he was referring to her observation that sometimes people simply made mistakes in their choice of marriage partners, so the insult was double-edged.  “You have no right to insult him.” she reproached quietly.

“No, of course not.  He’s your husband.”

“No, Nicholas.  Not anymore, but he is my friend.”

“Really?  That’s what I thought I was.  It seems you treat all your friends the same way.  Badly!  In my book, friends don’t cheat and lie.  You should have told me instead of deliberately letting me believe you were someone…something else”

“How could I, knowing your views?  I grew too attached to you.”

“All the more reason for telling the truth, don’t you think?”

“But I couldn’t bear to risk losing what we had.”

“We could never have anything built on a foundation of lies.  If I asked your husband, would he tell me you were never really his wife?  Would he betray you the way you betrayed him?  Do you hate all men, Julie?  Or is it that you simply don’t know the difference between right and wrong, or the truth and lying?”

She was as wounded by his tone as much as his words but still pressed on, her voice little more than a shaky whisper.  “I don’t hate you, Nicholas.  I love you.” 

“I’ll leave your keys on the bench.”  His voice sounded icy.

She backed away a pace and stared down at her feet in misery.  Was there nothing she could say to move this man with whom she had shared so much love?  Had she really damaged their relationship so irrevocably?  How could he have changed so much, her tender lover?  Had she done that to him?

She wanted a glimpse of the old Nicholas to reassure herself that he had existed and she hadn’t dreamed him up.  This cold, hard stranger bore no resemblance to him. 

When she raised her head, Nicholas was no longer there.  She had told him she loved him and he had simply walked away.  How much more humiliation could she take?