Authors: Sophie Pembroke
Room for Love (38 page)
And that, apparently, was just what Nate had been waiting to hear. Lifting her up to sit on the terrace railing, her wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and kissed her, hard.
“That’s all I needed,” he said, when he finally pulled his lips back. “We’ve got plenty of time to figure out the rest.”
He bent his head to kiss her, and Carrie rose up from her perch to meet him halfway. Sinking into his kiss she welcomed the warmth that enveloped her as his arms held her against him. Nate was right, she decided. They had plenty of time to figure out the details.
After all, it had taken them fourteen years to reach this point. And she was in no hurry to rush the next fourteen.
Carrie closed her eyes and kissed him back.
About Sophie Pembroke
http://www.lyricalpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=authors&authors_id=206
I love telling stories about friends, family and falling in love, and often set them in my homeland of Wales as a method of combating homesickness. My books all tend to include tea, cake, wine, good food and communities of people coming together. My blog, at
www.SophiePembroke.com
, features much of the same.
Room for Love
is my debut novel, and although the Avalon Inn and the people who inhabit it are all fictional, there are a few real world moments that shine through. The ancient Welsh dresser that houses the Avalon’s china is actually my grandparents’ dresser, which now lives in my kitchen. And Grandma really did work in a donut dugout during the war... I talk some more about the inspiration behind the Avalon on my website.
My next novel,
An A to Z of Love,
(Lyrical Press, July 2012)
is set near the Avalon Inn in the seaside town of Aberarian. In Welsh,
aber
means ‘mouth of the river’ and
arian
means ‘silver’ or ‘money.’ Which, incidentally, is just what the town is lacking, and needs, urgently…
For details about Aberarian, and how my heroine Mia plans to save it, check out the
Books
page at
www.SophiePembroke.com
.
Sophie’s Website:
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Sample – The Company She Keeps
By Barbara Kellyn
http://www.lyricalpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=3_25&products_id=487
Chapter 1
Harper Bukoski impatiently shifted from side to side, her jaw clenched like a vise as she waited for an answer.
The shaggy-haired barista shrugged. “I’m sorry, lady, I checked in the back too. We’re totally out of the cinnamon chip.”
“Totally out? You have cinnamon chip scones in here every single morning except the one day my entire future depends on it?”
“Maybe you could try our blueberry instead. They’re pretty good,” he said.
“Thanks, but no. It has to be cinnamon chip.” Harper glanced at her watch and made a beeline for the door. Moving at a good clip, she figured she could reach the next franchise in four and a half minutes. Walk out with the scones in two more. That would still leave forty-three and a half minutes to spare before the pitch of her career.
Hitting her stride halfway up the block, an embarrassingly loud explosion of
Sex Bomb
detonated inside her coat pocket. She cursed the day she’d agreed to let her boss program his choice of ring tone into her phone.
“Marty, hi. Gee, you’re up early.”
“Did you get the scones?” he asked, his sandpapery voice hoarse with tension and a persistent smoker’s cough.
“Not yet, but I will. The shop on First Avenue didn’t have the cinnamon chip, so I’m heading to the one on Third.”
“I’m counting on you to make sure everything is perfect this morning, Harpie.”
“I know, and everything
will
be perfect.” She kept her voice placid and pleasant, hoping to ease his mind as her panicked heels clicked speedily against the pavement. “The presentation is ready and the rationale is printed. I just need to pick up the scones and then I’ll personally set up the boardroom the moment I get in.”
“It better be ready by nine sharp.”
She rolled her eyes. “Marty, have I let you down once in the past four years?”
“No, you haven’t,” he said. “So don’t fuck up on me now.”
Harper zipped through the front door of the Third Avenue coffee shop and jumped into line. She craned her neck to see past the half-dozen customers in front of her and counted one, two, three cinnamon chip scones nestled in the display case.
Whew.
Inhaling deeply, she held in the warm, bakery-scented air, trying to catch her breath and calm her frayed nerves. As senior writer and unofficial head of Double D Marketing’s creative department, she wasn’t accustomed to scavenging metro Minneapolis’ better coffeehouses for a client’s favorite pastries. Then again, it wasn’t every day Double D had a sliver of a chance to land a client like biotech giant Sematek.
Truth be told, the meeting had only come about because Marty had worn down his buddy Jed Sanderson until he finally agreed to hear a pitch. Despite having the inside track with a Sematek head honcho, Double D was putting on an elaborate dog and pony show to win the account and shore up the floundering agency for another year. Harper had voluntarily taken on the responsibility for a flawless presentation, certain it would be the perfect opportunity to show Marty she was more than ready to add the title of VP of Creative Services to her business card.
Slowly, she released her breath. The line had not budged. There didn’t appear to be a reasonable explanation for the delay, yet no one appeared as agitated as she felt.
Doesn’t anyone else need to get to work this century?
A woman vacated her spot at the front of the line, clutching an iced coffee in one hand and towing a cute, curly-haired toddler with the other. Harper’s stance immediately softened. With a little smile, she watched as the boy carried a paper bag to a nearby table and wiggled in anticipation as the woman–
his mother or nanny, perhaps?–
sat across from him. His treat had barely tumbled out of the bag before his chubby fingers went to work digging apart the jumbo-sized chocolate muffin.
“Ah, forget it.” A man’s booming voice startled her back to the present. “You won’t be doing yourself any favors.”
She blinked.
Surely, he’s not talking to me.
“It looks good now, but trust me, you’ll only regret it later,” he said, sure sounding like his comments were pointed in her direction.
She snapped her head in a half turn, hoping to tip off the loudmouth that his audacious advice was most unwanted.
Who does this asshole think he is?
“It’s already a pretty tight fit back there, am I right?”
Hey, I may not be a stick figure, but I’m no lard ass!
“Well, don’t blame me when you need a heavy-duty forklift to move all that junk around.”
That’s it! That does it!
She spun around to unleash her fury. To her surprise, the jerk wasn’t the greasy lowlife she expected but a towering, corner-office type in a designer overcoat and power suit. Still, impeccable dress was no excuse for being flagrantly rude to a lady. “Hey. You think you’re being funny?”
He gulped. “Excuse me?”
“I asked if you enjoy making asinine comments to total strangers behind their backs.”
The big man crinkled his brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She scoffed, noting no one else stood in line behind them. “Yeah, right. I suppose it was the Invisible Man taking all those cheap shots? You don’t even know me, for Godssake.”
He raised a hand to his right ear and pressed a barely-visible Bluetooth device. “Sorry, I’m going to have to call you back. But think about it. Adding another order is only going to compromise inventory space and complicate warehouse processing later. Right. Bye.”
Her cheeks burned hot as she eyed his tiny earpiece. “Oh. You were, uh, on the phone.”
“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled.
“Regardless,” she sniffed demurely, “you shouldn’t be so oblivious to your surroundings when using that obnoxious thing. People are apt to get the wrong idea.”
“Come again?”
“Your comments made it seem as if you were talking about the size of my ass.”
The man’s straight-lined mouth suddenly curled into a smile before giving way to laughter. “Sorry ’bout that.” He pinched his lips in silence even though his shoulders continued to shake. “But you have to admit, that’s pretty damn funny.”
She glowered up at him. “It’s only funny if you’re the kind of person who gets their jollies talking to themselves in public.”
“I wasn’t talking to myself. I was on a call.” His eyebrows caved. “Maybe you’re the kind of person who gets their jollies eavesdropping on private conversations.”
“Eavesdropping? Everyone in this place can hear you.”
The nerve of this guy.
“Are you soooo important that you think you can just go wherever you want and speak as loud as you damn well please?”
He opened his mouth to deliver a retort when one of the two baristas behind the counter spoke up. “Um, hi. Hello? Can I help the next person?”
Harper turned. While she had been busy berating the man, the line in front of her had dissipated. She rushed to fill the unoccupied space as Bluetooth Guy took a giant sidestep toward the other available register.
“Ah, yes.” She sighed with relief, dropping her shoulders and collecting her thoughts before placing her order. “I’d like that–”
“Cinnamon chip.” Bluetooth Guy blurted out his request first. The barista serving him dipped into the bin and fished out the last remaining scone of its kind.
Harper waved her hand frantically to freeze his transaction. “Wait! I wanted that.”
“Guess I beat you to it.” He shrugged.
“No, you don’t understand. I need that scone for a super-important client meeting. I’ve already been to two shops and I don’t have time to find a third.”
“Then it looks like you’ll have to pick something else,” he said, watching the barista pack his scone into a crisp paper bag. “And can I get a half-caf double latte with that? Thanks.”
“But, I promised my boss–”
His eyes remained void of empathy. “Sorry.”
“Please?” She broke out her sweetest, honey-dipped smile. “I’ll give you ten bucks for it.”
He instantly perked up. “Ten bucks, hmm? Guess you must realllly want this.”
“It may be just an insignificant bundle of butter and flour to you, but at this moment, it means everything to me.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. I happen to really like cinnamon chip.”
“I’m sure you do, but my boss insisted I get that particular variety because it’s our client’s absolute favorite and he’s expecting me to do everything short of pulling a rabbit out of my ass to really wow this guy. Come on. Couldn’t you help me out? Please?”
Leaning against the counter, Bluetooth Guy narrowed his eyes and scanned her face as if gauging the depth of her sincerity. “What do you think?” he asked the barista snapping a lid on his coffee. “Should I let her have it?”
“That would be nice of you,” the girl said, trying to appear neutral as she offered Harper a sympathetic smile. “Of course, our blueberry scones are good too.”
“Please?” She appealed again, quite aware that her desperate tone bordered on shameless begging. She didn’t want to resort to heavy artillery like flagrant eyelash batting, but she had it on deck next if he didn’t concede.
“Oh, all right. Go on, take it,” he said, nudging his head toward the paper bag on the counter. “I’ve been in a tight spot with the boss once or twice myself.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She smiled in gratitude and reached for it.
“Unhh, the ten bucks?” He held out his open palm. “Deal’s a deal.”
She slowly retracted her hand, having been lulled into believing that maybe, just maybe, this wireless moron would be a gentleman and just give her the crummy scone. No such luck. Without saying a word that might jeopardize their arrangement, she probed her wallet and forked over the cash.