Ava Jones has settled for a life that she’s not sure she wants anymore, but won’t admit it. Her best friend, Erica Davidson talks her into taking a break on the Isle of Wight. Her days on the island are spent thinking things through, and arguing with Morgan whom she hates on principal.
Is it so wrong for her to want a life that follows the script of a honest to God romance film?
Losing myself in the titles, covers, and blurbs, I faintly heard footsteps behind me.
“Hey, can I help?”
I turned to face quite possibly the most beautiful man I had ever seen. His light brown hair had been bleached by the sun, and the bundle of messy curls made my fingers itch to tangle them among the chaotic strands. The man’s hazel eyes regarded both me and the slim book in my hand. His tall, lean figure was clad in skinny jeans, with an open, oversized shirt over a t-shirt and well- worn biker boots. He looked a little out- of-place among the surfer types I had noticed wandering around town.
“I’m just looking, thanks.” I couldn’t help but blush when he gave a slight smirk at the sight of the Mills & Boon book I held.
“If you’re after more . . . err . . . books in that particular genre, there’s a wider selection over here.” He indicated a bookcase to his left.
“This? Oh, no. This isn’t my type at all. I was just moving it out of the way to get at the new James Patterson.”
He cocked an eyebrow and his smile grew at my obvious lie. “Yeah, okay. I’ll leave you to . . . peruse.” He chuckled to himself as he made his way back behind the counter.
I slammed the bright pink book down so I could grab the James Patterson, the one I’d initially been after, and walked over to pay. “I’ll take this one.” I thrust my card at him and waited while he ran it through. I knew it was a simple misunderstanding, but it rubbed me the wrong way. Why couldn’t I just accept that he thought I wanted the Mills & Boon book? It was an easy mistake to make, I guess.
“Are you sure you don’t want the other one, too? It seems a bit more . . . your style.” He looked me up and down, taking in my denim shorts, skimpy vest top, and flip-flops.
His scrutiny made me nervous. I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair to calm myself. “What would you know about my ‘style’?” I demanded, snatching the book out of his hand and clutching it to me, almost as if it were a security blanket.
I moved to retrieve my card, but he whipped it just out of my reach.
“I’ve worked here for at least five years, and in that time, I’ve become very good at reading people. You are definitely steamy romance material, with your pretty hair and . . .” He indicated my clothes and swallowed, “. . . And your skimpy clothes.”
“Well, it just goes to show that you’re not as good as you thought, then. Please give me back my card.” I held out my hand.
Once he’d returned the piece of plastic, I spun on my heel and walked out. I planned to read my book slowly, because I wasn’t going to go back there.
M. B. Feeney is an army brat who finally settled
down in Birmingham, UK with her other half, two kids and a dog. Currently at
university studying for her BA (Hons) in primary teaching, she procrastinates
on her assignments by listening to music of all genres and trying to get ‘just
one more paragraph’ written on whichever WIP is open. She is also a serious
doodler and chocoholic. Writing has been her one true love ever since she could
spell, and publishing is the final culmination of her hard work and ambition.
Her publishing career began with two novellas, and
she currently has multiple projects under way whilst Honour, a compilation of
her own military based shorts, was released in November 2013. Always having
something on the go can often lead to block which eventually gets dissolved by
good music and an even better book.
Her main reason for writing is to not only give her
readers enjoyment, but also to create a story and characters that stay with
readers long after the book is finished, and possibly make someone stop and
think “what if…”
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