Anita's Haven

books, thoughts, stories, poetry, interviews, writing

Feel like sneaking into a work in progress?

on 15/09/2015


No, I haven’t given up writing. Just been a bit more busy preparing for teaching these days. But if you’re in for a sneak peek, here’s an excerpt from a light, friendly, romance novel/la I have started working on during the summer, just for fun and relaxation, and found out it is indeed fun to write this character. Such a daydreamer!

Average Daydreamer
Excerpt from ch.1, work in progress

Three months later, in our beach lodge on a secluded tropical isle, I placed breakfast on the white bedstand. He was still sleeping, arms stretched across both pillows, face rested and his full lips forming a sexy smile. My Dr Bronson!

Ocean waves gently carressed the sandy shore as I removed the immaculate, semi-trasparent curtains from the wall-to-wall windows. I heard his breathing change. His husky voice called to me.

‘Good morning, Mrs Bronson!’

I turned around, my bare feet savouring the deep, fluffy white carpet. Oh what a heavenly man! And all mine. He stretched like a powerful tiger across the white sheets and made me tremble. The mischief in his eyes was irresisting! My lips quivered and my knees felt like jelly. My thumb stroked the wedding ring from inside my palm.

My smile told him everything he had already known and felt himself, and more. My throat went dry as I felt myself pulled to his muscular torso like a magnet, so my tongue drew a wet layer over my lips. He tapped the bed gently.

I couldn’t wait. I stepped forward…

… and fell from the tram seat, my face gluing itself flat on the floor, next to a set of smelly, overworn sneakers, my hands too busy clutching on to my purse instead of protecting the face.

Reality check! A major one!

I spit the filth and drool from my mouth, and struggled to unglue my forehead from the floor. The chewing gum which had been there for quite some time had obviously been waiting to serve this particular purpose. I got up, mercilessly removing the gum from my skin, and it resisted my efforts, sneaking below my nails. Cheeky sod! Wet wipes helped, I hoped, and I fixed my hair and adjusted my clothes, mumbling something like ‘low blood sugar’ to save face, deluded into thinking anyone in the tram cared. Gotta love cities – full of warm, caring people! (Come to think of it, if anyone had tried to help, I might have went to second base with them, mistaking them for my dream doctor.)

The headphone-defeaned teenager in front of me just shuffled his feet and ignored me as if I were one of his professors.  Well, at least he did give me the purely academic treatment, so I suppose I should have been grateful.

The old, posh-looking vintage lady sitting across from my seat gave me the entire guilt-trip raised eyebrow stare, summarizing centuries of ‘what-is-wrong-with-these-modern-women’ speeches into one look, and made her final point by tightening her lip into a thin line and turning away.

The rest of the gang were minding their business entirely, so I just sat down like a scolded child and waited for my next stop.

‘Damn you, Dr Bronson-without -borders!  If you were a real man, at least you’d have caught me…’


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