Life's Unexpected Adventures Anthology
Volume Two
by Joanne Rawson
Always Mr. Wrong
Clare Darby is feeling restless, but can’t quite put her finger on why. Her life is in order, so what is the problem? When her daughter asks what she really wants for Christmas how can Clare tell her all she wants is to get laid. All her life she has fallen for Mr. Wrong. Will she ever find Mr. Right?
Zoe North
Zoe North walked down the aisle, aware that all eyes were on her. She knew she should be savouring this moment, yet all she could focus on was the man at the altar the man that, in a few minutes from now, would be promising to spend the rest of his life with her.
As the vicar starts the wedding ceremony, Zoe recalls her turbulent, two-year relationship with Dale Kennedy, literally, falling head over heels but not in love, when they first meet.
A night dancing at a salsa, club leads to more than she bargained for. An ultimatum that could change Zoe’s life forever and a honeymoon she will never forget.
A witty, spicy, story of love, friendship and never expecting the inevitable.
Coming Home for Christmas
After her husband’s death, Sophie and her young daughter return to her family in Derbyshire. The Ferguson’s seem like a perfect family until you scratch the surface. With so many emotional baggage, and only nine weeks to Christmas, can Sophie bring them altogether for the perfect Christmas she dreams of?
Thomas, the gorgeous, moody decorator, is a man with his own agenda that doesn't seem to include Sophie. Even in his paint-smeared tee shirt, faded jeans and scuffed boots, he is immodestly masculine, handsome and sizzling hot. But when his eyes reflect the pain she knows so well, Sophie cannot help but wonder if there is another side to the cold exterior.
Thomas finds his heart opening to this beautiful, wounded woman from his past. A passion smoulders as they work together in the months before Christmas. But he has been hurt before and hesitates to stoke the fire between them.
Will the magic of the holidays heal a family and bring two lost souls together?
Excerpt
Typical of me, I was running late, again! I seem to have spent my whole life rushing to get somewhere. Rushing to school, rushing to work, rushing to get home to get ready for a date I was already late for. My mum always says, “That girl will meet herself coming back one day.”
Laughing to myself that this could never happen, I would probably be too late to meet myself. I bolted out of the front door of my flat like a tornado, and suddenly found myself falling head first onto the corridor floor. My reflexes were too slow to stop myself from falling and hitting my temple on something sharp. Naturally, my body seemed to follow a few minutes later, only to wince in pain as something jabbed under my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. I lay dazed for a moment and my heart pounded like a big brass drum in my ears, from my soaring blood pressure. Breathless, I managed to utter to myself, “What on earth just happened?”
“I was just about to ask you the same question,” came a male voice. It was deep and masculine yet held a distinct tone of anger.
With my backside stuck up in the air, and my head resting on the cold tiled floor, I figured this was not a flattering position for anyone to find me. However, I was very grateful that at least someone had seen my predicament, and was offering some assistance, as I managed to mumble a feeble, “Thanks, I’m fine ... I think.”
“Do you intend to keep lying on my state of the art music system, or do I physically have to remove you myself? You clumsy, great lump.”
If I had been vertical, and brave enough, I would have loved to introduce his cheek to the palm of my hand. Clumsy, I can deal with, it is yet another of my flaws. If there is something to trip over, fall over or slip down then you can be sure I will be the one to do it. However, great lump! I am the correct height for my weight, what was it with men, obsessed with wanting all women skinny? I had not been this offended since my one and only blind date. Par for the course I had arrived late, making my way through the busy bar wondering how the hell we would find each other, when through the crowd and a haze of cigarette smoke like a contestant from Stars in Your Eyes, he emerged. “And tonight, Mathew, my date will be a tall, dark, handsome Greek god.”
“Zoe North?” he said
“Yes,” I stammered, “How did you know?”
“Stacey said to look for a woman like that actress, what’s her name Bridgette . . . ?”
My head swelled with pride as I said, “Bardot?”
It was the way he laughed, no not laughed—sneered. “You wish. I meant the podgy one—Jones, that’s it, Bridgette Jones.”
I turned around and left.
My contemplation must have taken longer than my supposedly good Samaritan had hoped for, as I found myself hauled like a rag doll to my feet. Once standing, my soaring blood pressure plummeted down to my Louis Viton shoes. I began to sway and my knees began to give way.
“Jeez, don’t faint on me as well.” Obviously aggravated, he grabbed my arm so tight it brought tears to my eyes.
“It’s okay, just a head rush, but thanks for your concern,” I replied sarcastically. At this point, I at least expected him to apologise or ask if I was hurt, instead, he began wittering on about re-lining turntables, twitters and woofers, whatever they were. The more he droned on, the more the stabbing pain at the side of my temple hurt. I began to massage the area of pain with my fingertips, when I felt something warm and sticky. Looking at my fingers, I whimpered. “I’m bleeding.”
“Yes, a bleeding nuisance,” he replied curtly.
“No! I’m actually bleeding.”