Aven Ellis's Blog, page 4

COVER REVEAL-The Prophecies by Holly Martin

 

I am SO EXCITED (yes yelling hence all caps) to help reveal the cover to The Prophecies, the second book in The Sentinel Series by my dear friend and Twinnie, Holly Martin. Isn’t it GORGEOUS? Yeah, I think so, too! By the way, I’m reading an advanced copy of it and it is just as brilliant as The Sentinel, the first book in the series. You haven’t read The Sentinel? WELL QUICK READ IT SO YOU CAN READ The Prophecies ON OCTOBER 1st.

 

The world is a big place, will Eve really be the one to save it?

Eve grows stronger and more powerful every day as she strives to ensure she is ready to face her destiny. But some of her gifts are unwelcome. Eve’s visions of the future become darker and those she loves are in terrible danger. But when her actions result in tragedy, Eve is called before The Oraculum, the council that created her

When she is summoned to their castle she becomes aware of a rift between the council members that not only could endanger her life, but could put the whole planet at risk. Would The Oraculum really turn against her and risk everything?

But in the darkness, a light burns bright. Her love for Seth is stronger than any of her powers.

But as she battles against a new threat, can she really forsake those closest to her in order to save the world? Will everyone Eve loves survive?

 

The Sentinel, Book 1 of the series is only 77p/99c so if you haven’t read it yet you can download it here http://myBook.to/TheSentinel

 

 

 

Waiting for Prince Harry-Bonus Scene #2

“Did I tell you how happy I am you don’t have a game tonight?” I say, snuggling into Harrison’s chest.

Harrison laughs and kisses the top of my head. “You might have mentioned it once or fifty times,” he teases.

I laugh. It’s mid-October, and Harrison is actually home on a Friday night—without a game on the schedule. We’re sitting in the curved sofa around our fire pit, enjoying a bottle of Remirez de Ganuza Gran Reserva  while watching the flames dance in front of us.

“I like having you all to myself on a Friday night,” I say, pausing to take a sip of my wine. “Mmmm, this is so good.”

“I’ll take you to their winery next summer,” Harrison says, lacing his fingers through mine, “on our honeymoon.”

I smile happily. “I can’t wait to explore Spain with you. But more than that, I can’t wait to be your wife.”

Harrison laughs. “I’ll be happy just to be able to say I’m your fiancée.”

I squeeze his hand in mine. In our hearts we’re already engaged, but we don’t want to be officially engaged until January, when we have been together longer than six months. Not because we are unsure, but just to put my parents more at ease with the idea of a quick engagement.

“So when are you going to propose to me, Harrison Flynn?”

“Ah, wouldn’t you like to know?” Harrison grins.

“You know it doesn’t have to be elaborate,” I say honestly. “You could propose while I was in the kitchen making cookies and I would think it was the best proposal ever.”

“I’d never propose while you’re involved with sea salt chocolate chip cookies,” Harrison says, “because you’d totally be distracted from my proposal.  You might not even hear it.”

I sit up and playfully push back from his chest. “Oh, right, like cookie dough would be a priority over a proposal from the man I love.”

“It could be a draw,” Harrison deadpans.

I set my wine glass down. “You sound insecure,” I tease.

“Knowing your passion for chocolate chip cookies, I should be insecure,” he quips, a gleam entering his gorgeous green eyes.

Oh, how I love this man.

“I’m equally passionate about you,” I say, sliding my hands up to the nape of his neck. I play with his ginger silky waves, letting my fingers glide through them and then down to the nape of his neck, where I know he likes to be touched.

“Maybe you’d like to find a way to show me that, Gorgeous Girl,” Harrison says sexily.

“Maybe I have one wicked good way to show you,” I tease.

Harrison laughs softly and puts his wine glass down. He slides his hands up through my hair, to my face, and pulls me closer to him. “Ah, so you’re being smart now, huh?”

“Smart. Not smaht,” I say, mimicking his Boston accent.

His green eyes flicker in amusement. “Okay, stop talkin’ cause I’m fixin’ to kiss you,” he says, mocking my Texas accent with a fake drawl.

Before I can protest, Harrison’s lips meet mine. I relish the feel of his hands in my hair, the way his mouth is taking from my own, the way his spicy cologne mixes with the scent of the burning firewood. One of his hands slides down to my thigh, slowly rubbing back and forth over my jeans as he kisses me.

“Mmmm,” I murmur against his lips. “I love this.”

“I love you,” Harrison whispers against my lips.

“I love you more,” I whisper back, kissing him again.

Harrison breaks the kiss and nuzzles his nose to mine.  “I promise you we’re going to have a wonderful life together.”

I put my hands on his face. “We already do. “

As we kiss again, nothing but love for my Hockey God fills my heart. We’re so blessed to have found each other.

And I can’t wait to ring in the New Year with an engagement ring from Harrison on my finger.

Cover Reveal-Tastes Like Winter By CeCe Carroll

Lovelies,

I’m super excited to introdue a new Young Adult author to you all-the fabulous CeCe Carroll! I met CeCe via the Girls With Books on Twitter, and we discovered a mutual love of Henry Cavill. Then we began talking and CeCe was kind enough to review both Connectivity and Waiting for Prince Harry, and we became friends during our email exchanges. CeCe shared with me that she was writing a novel, so of course I DEMANDED, er I mean, begged, to read it, and I absolutely fell in LOVE with Tastes Like Winter. 

This book is the story of a young woman named Emma, trying to navigate her way through her parents’ marriage, which is falling apart; her relationship with a best friend, who will be leaving for college in a year; and lastly, with the nephew of the owner of High Street Books, where Emma seeks refuge from her life with her job in the bookstore. While Emma has decided to protect her heart at all costs, there’s something she sees in Jake. But will the mysterious Jake ever let her in? Or cause her more pain than she ever thought possible?

Tastes Like Winter will be released on September 16, and I’m so excited for CeCe and her debut novel. Now, you all can tell I love it.  Here’s the details on the book, and as I treat I have an excerpt for you all to enjoy, too.

 

Book Description:

When home no longer feels like home – where can you go?

When your best friend won’t listen – who can you turn to?

When love makes you feel weak – how do you protect your heart?

 

With constant fighting at home, Emma decides working at High Street Books and practicing avoidance is the best method to save her from more heartache.

 

She doesn’t expect to meet Jake, the shop owner’s nephew,

who makes her stomach do crazy things.

But Jake is intent on pushing her away, and Emma must ask herself:

Is he scared? Or is he hiding something?

 

Tastes Like Winter is a story of love, family, and friendship and, when everything is uncertain, trying to figure out where you fit in.

 

Goodread: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...

EXCERPT

I sigh. “It’s so toasty warm in here and so cold and wet out there, I don’t want to get out.”

“I could drive you right up to your door, but I don’t think your mom would appreciate me parking in her pansies.”

“Probably not,” I agree.

He reaches into his pocket, shifting in his seat to pull his phone out of the denim. “Let me get your number before you leave.”

I don’t think a boy has ever asked me for my digits before, and having that boy be Jake makes me ecstatic.

I take a moment to calm myself before answering, and Jake must read that as a sign to retreat because he adds, “You know I should probably have it…for emergency purposes.”

I tell him the number, and he shoots me a text so I have his. I say good-bye, leave the warmth of his car, and start walking up the front walkway. Before I reach the door, my phone buzzes in my pocket, signaling another text.

Jake: I trust you made it to the door okay. I probably should have walked you so you wouldn’t have to suffer alone.

I tease him back.

Me: I made it, no worries, though I’m not sure this counts as an emergency.

Jake: Felt like one to me. Well, have a great night. Don’t miss me too much.

 

About CeCe:

 

CeCe began writing as an escape from her days as a corporate slave laborer. She grew up splitting her time between the beautiful beaches of New Jersey and the bustling city of New York. Currently, she lives in Massachusetts with her super handsome and talented husband and two adorable, but often-sassy cats. CeCe gets excited easily, mostly about travelling, food, and of course, her first love: books.

 

 

Contact Links

Website: http://www.cecewrites.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/cecebooks

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cececarrolla...

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/photo/autho...

Casting Call-Harry from One Hundred Proposals

Today I have Holly Martin guesting on the blog with one of my most FAVORITE TOPICS OF ALL TIME: HOT MEN. Yep, she’s casting the lead for Harry in One Hundred Proposals, and without further delay, here’s Holly and her totally hot casting call.

I love when Aven writes her gorgeous stories that she provides us with photos of hot men to inspire us, the men she would cast in the role of her leading man.

So who would I cast to play the leading man in One Hundred Proposals?

Harry is our leading man, he is gorgeous, huge, sweet, kind, but a bit of a ladies man, at least at first. I completely fell in love with Harry whilst writing this book so it’s hard to choose a perfect man to play him, in fact I’m not sure if there is anyone perfect enough. So here are my best fits, in no particular order I present to you:

Theo James

Theo is a bit young to play Harry, although I never mention Harry’s age in the book, I imagine him to be around thirty years old. This photo of Theo encapsulates Harry perfectly, sweet, caring, but with a slight darker edge to him.

Joe Manganiello

He has got a bit hairy and rugged in recent years, which I absolutely LOVE because he looks like this and quite frankly who doesn’t love this?

But this is nothing like Harry, well not in my mind, but when Joe was younger and starred in One Tree Hill, he looked like this.

This could be Harry, big, muscular, sexy as hell, but a bit vulnerable too.

 

Karl Urban

Karl is sexy, charming, a bit cocky, especially in the new TV series Almost Human but he has this vulnerable side too. This picture shows Harry’s torment over his past perfectly and his inability to get over what happened to him as a child.

 

My final choice is Chris Hemsworth:

Chris is 6ft 3, he’s huge and god damn is this man pure sex on legs. Plus when One Hundred Proposals gets made into a movie, I will of course be on set every day and if I have to get up every day and jet to beautiful exotic locations then looking at this face will make the months filming slightly more bearable.

 

Thanks Holly for guesting today! Now, want to know more about One Hundred Proposals (ONE OF MY FAVORITE BOOKS EVER)?

 

‘Is there really such a thing as a perfect proposal?
Over the next hundred days I intend to find out. I will find one hundred ways to propose to our Chief Proposer Suzie McKenzie and post the results here for your enjoyment. One thing’s for sure, not one of my proposals will be on top of the Eiffel Tower with a dozen red roses.’



Best friends Suzie and Harry are partners in romance. That is, they run the.PerfectProposal.com, coming to the aid of would-be grooms to create the ultimate marriage proposal.
But when Harry decides to catapult the business into the big leagues with a PR stunt all Suzie can see is a hundred days of heartbreak stretching ahead of her. But however exotic the location, or breath-takingly romantic the setting, Suzie has to keep remembering that ‘Marry Me?’ is the one question she can’t say yes to.
This business proposal should come with one hundred broken heart warnings…
One hundred proposals, one hundred chances to say yes.
 
Buy links http://amzn.to/1ouP9w0

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Connectivity Wedding

 

I stand in front of the mirror in the Royal Suite at Claridge’s, hardly believing this day is here. It’s a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Mayfair, with bright sunshine and gorgeous blue skies.

And on this day, June 28th, I’m becoming Mrs. William Cumberland.

I’m so excited I can hardly stand still.  Happiness fills every fiber of my being. Mary-Kate Cumberland, I think, staring at my reflection in the glass. I’m going to be William’s wife.

Michelle finishes pulling up the zipper on my dress. “You look radiant,” she murmurs, catching my eye in the mirror.

“That’s exactly how I feel,” I say. “Radiant.”

I smooth out my Monique Lhuillier ivory sheath dress with my hands.  It’s a stunning ivory embroidered sheath dress with long sleeves and an open back. I can’t wait for William to see me in it. I have a simple drop diamond pendant and earrings on for jewelry, and my hair is swept back into a sleek chignon. I feel elegant and beautiful, which is exactly how I wanted to feel on my wedding day.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t want a veil,” my mom says, shaking her head.

“Mom,” I say firmly, “I told you why. I wanted to be able to see William when those doors open to the church. Nothing between us, not even a veil.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic?” Michelle teases.

There’s a knock on the door, and I hear Claire’s voice on the other side.

“MK, might we come in?” she calls out.

“Please!” I say excitedly.

Claire comes in with Charlie and Emma, who are going to be my page boy and flower girl today.

“Auntie MK,” Emma says excitedly, “I’m going to throw flowers!”

“Not at people. Remember that, sweetheart,” Claire says gently. “My God, you’re breathtaking, MK. Just gorgeous.”

I give her a hug, and she kisses my cheek.

“Thank you,” I say. Then I take her hands in mine. “And I’m thrilled we’re going to be sisters-in-law.”

“Me too,” Claire says. She quickly turns to Charlie. “Don’t touch anything. We’re going to leave for the church very soon.”

Charlie stops his hand in midair over my make-up bag, a guilty look sweeping across his little face.

“By the way, I’ve never seen William anxious before, but I have now,” Claire declares. “He’s desperate to see you.”

“He can’t!” Michelle and my mother cry at the same time.

“Oh, I know, so that’s why I’m delivering this,” Claire explains.  She reaches inside her tote and pulls out a Tiffany & Co. box with a bow. “William asked that I deliver this to you.”

I take the box and undo the white ribbon on it. I carefully remove the lid and find a card with William’s handwriting on it. 

Darling, I find it most appropriate that you have a new headpiece to wear for our wedding day. I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle and know you are going to be my wife. I love you, William

Tears prick my eyes as I read his heartfelt words.

“Don’t cry,” Michelle quickly says. “You’ll ruin your make-up!”

We all laugh at that. I manage to hold it together, and then I lift up the tissue in the box.

“Oh my God,” I gasp. “Oh my God.”

With a shaking hand I lift up a stunning platinum tiara in a butterfly motif, completely adorned with round diamonds and pink spinels.

“MK,” my mother breathes, “that is . . . oh my . . . just . . .”

“Jaw dropping? Michelle supplies.

“Let’s get that on you,” Claire says, turning me around to face the mirror. “Would you like me to help you?”

I blink back tears and nod. Claire places the tiara on my hair and secures it. As she does, I hear a collective gasp from everyone in the room.

“Oh, sweetie, you look like a princess,” my mother cries, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “You are such a beautiful bride. And I know William loves you so much. It’s all I could ever dream of for you.”

There’s a knock on the door, and my mom goes to answer it. I see it’s my dad, ready to go with us to the church.

My father stops dead in his tracks and looks at me, his eyes wide.

“Oh MK,” he says softly. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

I walk over to him and link my arm with his. “Thank you, Dad.”

“So are you ready to get married?” he asks, smiling at me.

“Absolutely,” I say confidently.

We all gather up our things and head down to the valet, where Bentleys are waiting to take us to the church. I hold my beautiful bouquet of white roses in my hand as I settle into the car, inhaling their glorious scent during the ride and eagerly anticipating seeing William soon.

We reach the church and the driver opens my door and helps me out. I see Ella Burke, the wedding coordinator, standing outside the church waiting for us.

“Oh, MK, aren’t you a vision,” she says, smiling brightly at me. “Absolutely beautiful!”

“Thank you,” I say, smiling back at her.

“Okay, let’s get everyone lined up,” Ella declares. “And William has expressed he’s getting very impatient to marry you and it would be most appropriate that we start exactly at 3 o’clock.”

I laugh. That’s so William.

I hug everyone and Ella coordinates the wedding party. Music begins to play, and butterflies shift with excitement in my stomach. My mother is seated, then Charlie and Emma make their way into the church. Now I’m just minutes from walking down the aisle. I hold my bouquet and draw an excited breath. My dad affectionately squeezes my arm, and Michelle turns and smiles at me.

“This is what a wedding should be about,” she whispers to me. “Two people who are soul mates. Who will be married forever. I love you, and I know you are going to be so happy with William.”

I smile back at her. “I love you, too,” I whisper. “And I know I’ll have a lifetime of happiness with William.”

Ella motions for Michelle to start walking, and she does. My heart beats quickly inside my chest. Not out of nervousness, but rather out of excitement and eagerness.

“It’s time,” Ella whispers.

“Are you ready?” my dad asks as we step into the church doorway.

“Yes,” I say confidently. “I am.”

The music stops. The church falls silent. Then the “Wedding March” starts and I enter the church on my father’s arm.

And then I see him.

Oh, God. William is devastatingly handsome in a morning suit, complete with gray pinstriped trousers, a black morning jacket, platinum waistcoat and tie. William’s eyes lock on mine, and I know I’m the luckiest girl in the world at this very moment.

I walk down the aisle, holding my dad’s arm, and I know I’m just beaming with happiness.  And while I’m aware the church is filled with family, friends, roses, and candles, I’m only aware of William waiting for me.

As I reach the vicar and William, I hand my bouquet to Michelle. My dad kisses my cheek and places my hand in William’s. I draw a breath of air as I look into his blue eyes. I see they are watery, which makes me tear up.

“You look so beautiful,” William whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I whisper back.

As I hold William’s hand in mine, I have never been happier as I am right now, knowing this man is going to pledge to love me forever, and I pledge the same to him. I will love this man for the rest of my life. I’ll be his wife, his partner, his support system, the mother of his children. He’s my soul mate, and I am William’s. And in a few minutes I’ll be putting a ring on his finger to symbolize that love.

And without a doubt, I’m the luckiest woman in the world right now.

***

“Darling,” William says, “have I told you how happy am today?”

I smile at my husband as I move a lock of his dark hair off his forehead.

My husband.

I’m really Mrs. William Cumberland.

“I can’t believe we’re married,” I say happily. “And now I’m sitting in this glorious reception at Claridge’s, and we’re being served a luxurious meal. I’m dreaming.”

William nods. “I feel the same way. My God, Mary-Kate, I didn’t think it was possible for you to look more beautiful but you really are breathtaking tonight.”

“And you’ve never looked more handsome than you do in this morning suit,” I say honestly.

“Since we have this moment without guests talking to us, I thought I would share some personal vows I wrote for you,” William says softly.

My heart melts. “You . . . wrote vows?”

“Very detailed ones.”

I swallow against the lump in my throat. I’m truly lucky to be loved like this.

“First,” William says, taking my hands in his, “I promise to always be a badass mogul. In a crisp white Prada shirt.”

I begin to laugh. “I think I’m going to like these vows.”

“I will import Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for you,” William continues, his eyes sparkling. “And bring you your morning coffee, with cream, every day I’m home.”

I grin. “Okay, I have some vows for you now.”

William sexily cocks an eyebrow at me. “I’m intrigued. Go on.”

“I will always wear a headband, even if they go out of style,” I declare. “I will refill your tea when you need it. I will always snort when I laugh hard. And I will never put anything with a ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ logo on it in our home.”

William throws his head back and laughs. “I bloody well hope not.”

“But lastly, William, I will never call a trunk a boot. Because I’m a Bossy American, and I vow to you that will never change.”

“I wouldn’t want you any other way, Mary-Kate. I love you, you Bossy American.”

“And I love you, my Badass British Mogul.”

William places a gentle kiss on my lips, and I know we’ll stay true to all of our vows.

For the rest of our lives.

One Hundred Proposals-Chapter Two

 

Okay how awesome is this? You got to read Chapter One yesterday…now Chapter Two! Thank you,  Holly Martin, for the peek into your brilliant new book.

 

Chapter Two

I woke the next day with a start, being quite simply torn from a dream about Jack – a memory of playing with him on the beach as he tried to put wet seaweed down my back. As I became more conscious, the loss of losing him hit me all over again.

I knew immediately that someone was in the room with me. I was face down on my pillow and I leaned up and swept my curtain of tangled brown hair off my face. Harry was sitting next to me on the bed, sipping his coffee and reading my very dog-eared copy of The Hobbit.

I scowled at him. I wasn’t a morning person.

‘Do you not knock?’

Harry’s attention didn’t even waver from the page he was reading. ‘You gave me a key.’

‘I could have been naked.’

He put his book down and looked at me. ‘All the more reason for me not to knock.’

I blushed and climbed off the bed.

Most mornings I woke to this. I must admit, it was a lovely way to wake up. One night, after these early morning visits had become more regular, I went to bed in my sexiest lingerie in the hope that the following morning he would come in and be so turned on that he might immediately ravish me.  But not only did he not even bat an eyelid when he saw me in my black, satin nightie, he was more excited about his McDonalds breakfast and the free hash brown he had been given by the girl flirting with him behind the counter than what I had to offer. To add insult to injury, as I tried to arrange myself subtly into a sexy pose on the bed next to him as he chomped through his Bacon and Egg McMuffin, I had simply slithered off the bed into a crumpled heap on the floor. Nowadays it seemed much easier and more comfortable to sleep in my regular pyjamas.

Harry handed me a coffee fresh from the café round the corner. I took a sip – it was made exactly how I liked it, with three sugars and a dash of hazelnut syrup. As I went to take another sip, I realised that a small heart had been drawn in the froth on the top. I smiled and hovered near his side, peering round him to the brown paper bag I could see tucked by his hip.

He was busy reading so I coughed loudly to gain his attention. When he glanced up, I looked deliberately at the bag.

‘How do you know this is for you?’

‘Because you always bring me nice things from the café. What is it this morning, an apricot Danish, ooh a walnut plait or…’

He whisked it out the bag and showed it to me, and the words dried in my throat. Iced into the top of my favourite cinnamon swirl were the words ‘Marry Me.’

I had almost forgotten about this silly hundred proposals thing. I’d hoped he’d forgotten as well. But now it looked like he really did mean to torture me. One hundred days. One hundred different ways to break my heart.

I looked at him and he was watching me hopefully.

‘It’s certainly unique.’ I took the bun from him, and picked a currant out of it, averting my gaze from his. I forced my voice to sound normal before I spoke again. ‘If I bite into this am I at risk of swallowing a diamond ring?’

 He shook his head. ‘No ring. You said a ring was clichéd. Besides, why propose with diamonds when you can propose with cinnamon and coffee?’

‘You should take a picture of it before I eat it. Put it on the blog.’ I had a huge lump in my throat.

‘Good idea.’ He whipped out his phone, pressed a few buttons and pointed it in my direction. I held it out for him to get a good angle and realised my hands were shaking. Harry realised it too. To my shame, tears swam in my eyes.

Harry was off the bed in a second. ‘What’s wrong, what’s happened?’

‘Nothing, I’m fine. Just tired.’ I stepped away from him but he pulled me back, holding me tight and squashing the bun between us. I breathed him in, his wonderful earthy smell as he started to stroke my back.

‘Did something happen with Tiny Tim?’

I couldn’t keep up with the lie any longer and it had achieved nothing anyway.

‘We broke up,’ I said into his chest, hoping that would explain why I was soaking his shirt with my tears.

‘Oh honey, I’m sorry.’ His hand moved to my hair and my breath caught in my throat. ‘Had you been seeing him long?’

Oh what a tangled web we weave.

‘A few weeks. It wasn’t serious, but I really liked him. But obviously I liked him more than he liked me.’

‘Well then the man’s an idiot. Who wouldn’t love a girl in a cow print onesie?’

I giggled.

He tilted my face up to look at him.

‘Right, enough tears. Any man who makes you cry is not worth it.’

If only he knew.

‘Anyway, I have a day out planned for you today, so stop moping around and get yourself showered and dressed.’

He released me and we both looked at the squashed bun. Although it looked a bit worse for wear, the words ‘Marry Me’ were still very obvious on the top. Harry took a photo and I quickly ate it so I wouldn’t have to stare at the empty words any longer. It tasted good, despite the fact that with every mouthful my heart broke a little bit more.

‘So, as proposals go, is this what you imagined for yourself?’ Harry asked, when it was gone.

‘Undoubtedly. The perfect proposal. So you don’t have to bother with the other ninety-eight different ways now. Write on the blog that you bought me a cinnamon swirl and I caved. I’m a cheap date, easily pleased.’

Harry pulled a face. ‘It was a bit cheap and naff, wasn’t it? Ok, for my next one it will be something huge.’

‘Really, the cinnamon swirl was cute… and don’t underestimate the value of cute.’

But Harry was already walking away into the office, scrolling through his phone as he went.

‘Harry, are you listening? Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a personalised cinnamon swirl.’

‘Get in the shower, woman, I need to make some calls.’

I sighed. I had to sway him from this path. Ninety-eight heart-breaking days stretched ahead of me like an endless desert, with no respite from the sun.

I got in the shower and stuck my head under the stream.

No, I could do this. Proposals were my entire waking life. My dreams were plagued by them too. Something like this could only be good for business. I just had to become immune to the words. They were empty and meaningless. And now I knew that I was to expect it every day, I could prepare myself for it, pretend in my head the words meant something else.

I got dressed quickly and walked into the office.

‘Hey.’ Harry was busy typing. ‘Our blog has nineteen followers already.’

‘Our Proposer’s Blog? This hundred proposals malarkey?’

‘Malarkey? I’m offended.’ He smiled up at me briefly before returning his attention to the screen. ‘Yes, I guess they want to see what I come up with next.’

I leaned over him to see what he had written and caught a whiff of his wonderful clean earthy smell. There was the close-up picture of my squashed bun, and another picture I hadn’t realised he had taken – of me eating it, my hair a full bird’s nest, my face red and blotchy from the tears, dressed in my rather unflattering cow print onesie. Great!

Under the picture was Harry’s blog.

 

Proposer’s Blog

 

Day 2: The Cinnamon Swirl Proposal. Location: Suzie’s bedroom (I assure you, nothing saucy going on here).

 

Is the way to a woman’s heart through her stomach?

Our Suzie McKenzie has a very sweet tooth and so I thought to charm her with a sweet proposal of her own. Nadia’s Bakery, St Patrick’s Road makes the best Cinnamon Swirls in the world and it’s one of Suzie’s all-time favourite things to eat for breakfast. So when I explained the situation to the lovely Nadia this morning she was more than happy to provide me with a personalised one along with a heart-topped latte.

So what was Suzie’s reaction? She seemed a bit blasé about it actually. Wolfed it down and barely registered the words.

 

That wasn’t true of course, but it was better he wrote that than writing that I burst into tears.

 

I always thought those proposers that pop the question with a ring at the bottom of the champagne glass were silly – who wants to fish the diamond ring out of the toilet a few days later? Though now Suzie’s eaten my proposal, there’s nothing left of it apart from the icing on her lips.

 

I immediately checked my lips and I saw Harry smirk out of the corner of my eye.

 

Next time, I will do something grand. Something she can’t possibly miss. Plus, who would really say yes over a 59p Cinnamon Swirl?

 

‘That makes me sound shallow,’ I said, squeezing past him to log on to my own computer.

‘Not shallow, just greedy. And don’t bother logging on, we’re going out.’

‘I can’t, it’s our busiest time of the year, you know that. Three days before Valentine’s Day, all those last minute Larrys will be phoning us up for support.’

‘I’ve already diverted the calls to your mobile and you can still pick up your emails, besides today is completely work orientated – we’re sourcing new locations, so stop making excuses and get your boots on.’

When I hesitated, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out the office.

I laughed. ‘Where are we going?’

‘First stop, we’re going to buy you some decent pyjamas, so the next boyfriend won’t be scared off by seeing you in that onesie.’

I stopped dead and when he turned to look at me, his eyes were kind.

‘Jack bought it for me,’ I said, quietly.

‘I know.’

‘I’m not getting rid of it.’

‘I’m not saying throw it out. But I know Jack, he had a wicked sense of humour and you know as well as I do that he bought it for you as a joke because you used to take the piss out of onesies and people that wore them. You know that he never intended for you to wear it at all let alone every day since his death. If you want to keep it, keep it. All I’m talking about is options. Something else you could wear that would show off that fabulous figure of yours.’

I opened my mouth to protest as the last words he said slammed into my brain. Fabulous figure?

He moved his hands to my shoulders and when he spoke his voice was soft.

‘I know you’re trying to keep your brother alive, keep him close, but he would be cringing if he could see you wearing that thing and you know that. Keep him close with your memories of him, not by compromising who you are.’

I blinked. That was very profound for half nine on a Thursday morning.

‘I’m just saying, the Suzie McKenzie I know and love wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that.’

‘I think it’s funny.’ I knew I sounded like a petulant child.

‘Yes, for about five minutes after you opened your present – it’s not quite so funny eight months later.’

He had a point. I’d washed it so many times that the white patches were now grey and the udders were looking decidedly limp.

‘And while we’re on the subject. You can stop wearing black as well. We’re not in the Victorian times anymore.’

He pulled me into the bedroom and I followed, still in shock over his brutal honesty. He opened my wardrobe and pulled out my favourite scarlet jumper dress. ‘You can wear this today with those purple leggings.’

They would clash horribly. I smiled

‘And you can wear them with those Barbie pink boots you love so much and…’ He rooted around in one of my drawers, finally found what he had been looking for, pulled it out and thrust it into my face. ‘This. You’ll wear this.’

‘But –’

‘No buts. Get changed. You have five minutes.’

I stared after his retreating back and then down at the black shirt and black trousers I had put on out of habit. In the months after Jack’s death my taste in bright and garish clothes had seemed disrespectful somehow. Was one month too soon to return back to my colourful spots, stripes and swirls? Was two months? But now it had been eight months and I had seemingly been wearing black ever since. My bright clothes even seemed to have a thin layer of dust on them as they hung forgotten in my wardrobe. Harry had a point. Again.

I came downstairs a few minutes later, dressed in my purple leggings, scarlet jumper, pink boots and my red and gold spotted sequinned beret that I adored and Jack hated because he said I looked like a toadstool. I felt lighter already.

Harry grinned when he saw me. ‘You look beautiful.’ He offered me his arm. ‘Now let’s go.’

I leaned into him and walked out into the early morning sunshine.

*

‘No way. I’m not doing that,’ I said, staring at the scene before me in horror. ‘There’s nothing romantic about that.’

‘Who says proposals have to be romantic?’ Harry said as he bent down to forcefully remove my boots.

‘It’s the rules. Flowers, fireworks, chocolates. A stuffed teddy with the words emblazoned across a red heart. Not this. Never this.’

‘I disagree.’

‘You would,’ I said as Harry pushed me gently but forcibly forwards in the queue.

‘I think proposals can be weird, funny or in the case of this little adventure, adrenaline filled.’

I was next.

‘If I die –’

‘I’ll wear a cow print onesie to your funeral. Now get up there.’

My phone rang in my pocket.

‘Oh I have to get that, shame I’ll miss my turn.’

But to my annoyance, Harry had already wrestled my phone from my pocket and had answered it. He was more than capable of dealing with our customers and he knew I knew that.

‘Are you going or what, love?’ asked a big gruff man whose face looked like it had been punched several times. His nose was bent in two places and he had a huge scar across his forehead. Had he sustained these injuries doing this? I shrunk back but Harry pushed me forward.

‘Yes she is, and send her as high as you can.’

The man nodded, somewhat evilly I thought.

I climbed the steps to my doom and they attached thin rubber cables to my harness. I kept my eyes on Harry as the man bounced behind me for a few seconds, causing me to bounce as well. A moment later I was propelled some ten feet into the air, a scream tearing from my throat. I fell back to the earth but no sooner had I touched the ground than I was sent back into the air again, this time even higher than the last.

We had been walking along the Thames when the sounds of screams had attracted us. As we rounded the corner, we saw the bungee trampolines and watched with amusement as we saw people screaming, being bounced higher and higher in the air. My amusement had quickly turned to horror when I realised Harry had paid for me to have a go, and that we had come here deliberately for this reason.

I screamed again as I flailed in the air, kicking my legs helplessly in the hope that it would slow my descent. Each time I thought I was going to crash into the ground, I came to a slow stop, bounced gracefully off the trampoline and was propelled back into the air again. As I was thrust into the air for the fifth time, a bubble of laughter escaped my throat. It was a rush – a terrifying, brilliant rush. The man bounced with me, sending me higher, and I roared with joy.

All too soon the experience was over, and the man slowed me down and stopped me. He unhooked me and I quickly clambered down the steps and ran straight into Harry’s arms, still laughing uncontrollably.

Finally my laughter subsided.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ he said, into my forehead. ‘You see, at this point, while your heart is still pounding furiously and with the grin plastered on your face, I would propose.’

‘And I would say yes.’

I felt him smile into my hair.

‘So one we can definitely add to our repertoire?’

‘Yes, I take it all back. I love it.’

‘They’re not here all the time, but the guy is going to give me his card as they go all round the UK. We can phone them up if need be and find out where they are.’

‘Excellent, it’s great to get contacts like this.’

‘Are you ready for the next part of our day?’

I pulled back, intrigued. ‘There’s more?’

‘Yes.’ He chivalrously picked up the bag containing the pyjamas he had bought me earlier. Very simple, very elegant satin pyjamas. I’d liked the black but Harry put his foot down and we’d eventually agreed on a dusty rose.

‘Was the phone call anything good?’

‘I’ve emailed over to him our basic package.’

I sighed. ‘That’s the fourth today.’

‘Hey, the basic package is a good little money earner. You know – on average – half the customers that buy the twenty pound package from us, come back and spend ten times that on a big extravagant proposal.’

‘I know, but at this time of year I kind of expect to get more big proposals rather than so many basic packages.’

Harry was right, we earned quite a bit from our basic package. For twenty pounds, we sent our customers a brochure of our top fifty proposals. Ideas ranging from the romantic to the ridiculous, top class restaurants to tiny little tucked away cafés strewn with fairy lights. We included days out, fun experiences and romantic getaways. We also included vouchers for discounts and special offers at these hotels and restaurants and if our customers went there, we also got ten percent of their final bill from the companies for introducing our customers to them in the first place. It also gave brief details of more elaborate proposals, something only we could organise, with the promise of a refund of the twenty pounds if they were to book one of the grander proposals with us.

‘Romance isn’t always about big gestures though,’ Harry said. ‘Sometimes it’s the words the man finds or the effort that he has gone to. It doesn’t have to be something expensive.’

‘I know that, the smaller gestures are sometimes the best, a message written in the sand on a favourite beach or a personalised cinnamon swirl.’ I nudged him as we walked along the road and he smiled. ‘But from a business point of view I’m not sure people paying us twenty pounds to send them to propose elsewhere is the best idea. They could spend a hundred pounds or more at these posh places. That’s a hundred pounds they could have spent with us.’

Harry switched sides with me and I wondered why as he put himself between me and two men who were arguing, placing his hand on the small of my back as he nudged me round them. I felt embarrassed by the goose bumps that suddenly exploded over my body at his touch.

Harry continued on as if he hadn’t noticed my heart leap out of my chest. ‘Most people have in their mind what kind of proposal they want to do before they contact us. For most of them it would involve some kind of romantic meal, so they’re not likely to spend their money with us anyway. By providing them with a list of romantic places to eat, not only do we get the twenty pounds but also any kickbacks from the restaurants too. We’ve probably earned more money from the basic package than we have from the big proposals – so I wouldn’t knock the smaller gestures if I were you. Come on, through here.’

Harry ducked into a tiny alleyway that wound round the corner out of sight. He knew London like the back of his hand and very rarely went on the underground. There was always so much more to see when on foot. I followed him, his hulking frame almost filling the alley wall to wall. The walls were covered in graffiti and chewing gum, but some of the pictures sprayed on the bricks were very skilful. As we came to an old boarded-up window, he stopped and as I drew near he pulled me to his side, with his hand at my waist, sending delicious shivers down my spine.

‘There’s a place called Bubblegum Alley in California, and a Chewing Gum Wall in Seattle, where millions of pieces of gum have been stuck on the walls. It’s so bright and colourful that what started as something gross has now been declared an official tourist attraction. People travel from miles around to see it and to add their own gum to it. Some have even created little works of art amongst the thousands of globules.’

He stood back a bit and pointed to the wall. There in a heart made from pink chewing gum were the words ‘Annie, marry me,’ also made from chewing gum.

‘Love can be found in the most unlikely of places, you just have to look for it.’

He stared down at me and for a moment I wasn’t sure if he was talking about him, or about me and him.

‘It doesn’t need to be about romance, just little heartfelt gestures.’

I smiled. ‘I wonder if she said yes.’

Harry pointed to the green letters written in globules of chewing gum underneath the heart. In big proud letters, the word ‘Yes’, stood out.

‘I like it.’ I grabbed my phone from my pocket and took a few shots. I had to put this on the website.

‘I knew you would.’

‘You see, I don’t need big gestures, so whatever you have planned for our next proposal, it doesn’t need to be a big yacht or a trip to the moon.’

He walked away, heading towards the sunlight that was piercing our gloom.

‘I’ll cancel the space rocket then.’

‘Harry, I’m serious. Don’t waste your money on me.’

He ignored me as we stepped out into the sunlight. He was incredibly generous with his money and he had a lot of it. He didn’t get a very good salary from me but he didn’t really need it. Years before, whilst travelling around America, he’d had the foresight to invest in a tiny little up-and-coming online social media site called Connected. He’d given a thousand dollars at the time, money he had won at a casino, and years later, when Connected had been the biggest social media site in America and probably the world, he had sold his shares for a huge sum.  He’d never told me how much he got from that little endeavour. But it was enough that he could afford the huge house on the other side of the green from me, bought when the property prices had plummeted. And he always seemed to have enough money for little gifts and meals out.

‘Spending money on you is never a waste. And we’re running late now so we’re going to have to run.’

He grabbed my hand and started jogging through the streets, winding his way expertly through the other people.

‘We could catch the tube,’ I whined, as I tried to keep up with his long-legged pace.

‘Running’s much more fun,’ Harry said, without breaking his stride.

*

The Glade at Sketch was like nothing I’d ever seen before. With its white bricked front, Sketch looked like a simple townhouse – and we’d actually walked past the place before we’d realised it was there. But down the darkened staircase and to the left, a tranquil wooded glade had been transported from some fairy tale forest to this seemingly unassuming restaurant in central London. Trees covered every wall and surface, the leaves of which were painted in every shade of green and gold imaginable. A huge chandelier dominated the ceiling, casting delicate lights over every surface from its tangle of branches. Tiny gold fireflies danced around the walls and floor. Mirrored panels near the roof moved slowly, catching the light from the huge sun roof above us and sending its rays across the room as if the sun was moving through the trees. Wicker chairs, tables and sofas with huge green embroidered cushions were placed casually throughout the room as if they were garden furniture and we were all just simply sitting out in the garden somewhere, enjoying the sun.

‘Harry Forbes, we have a reservation for afternoon tea.’ Harry said to the beautiful waitress who looked like a woodland nymph with the plaits and twists in her hair, and her floaty dress.

The waitress showed us to our table and we quickly placed an order for tea. Breakfast tea for me, something that sounded like a rare tropical disease for Harry.

‘Harry, this place is beautiful.’ I couldn’t stop looking around, until my eyes met with his and I realised he’d been watching me. ‘Thank you for today.’

‘My pleasure. I just wanted you to have some fun. You’ve been so down lately.’ He paused, awkwardly, while he rearranged the cups on the table. ‘The food here is amazing.’

I reached across and squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you.’

The afternoon tea arrived just as Harry was poised to say something else. I reluctantly let him go so there was room for our cake stand on the table.

Harry was right, the food looked and tasted amazing. The sandwiches were all topped with extras like quail eggs and caviar, bringing a simple egg mayonnaise sandwich alive with an assault of different flavours.

There was an array of cakes, all tiny, mouth-watering bites of pure pleasure, some kind of trifle and of course delicious fresh fruit scones.

‘So tell me,’ Harry said around a mouthful of something chocolaty, ‘Tiny Tim, did you and he…?’

Oh God, Tiny Tim was going to come back and haunt me forever.

I picked up some kind of pink meringue that literally dissolved as soon as it touched my tongue. I licked my lips as I played for time.

‘Did we what?’ I smirked as Harry shifted uncomfortably, waving his hands around in what I presumed was some kind of representation of the act. The man had no problem discussing his sordid sex life but he was still awkward when discussing mine. I wanted to play him at his own game.

‘He liked to dress up,’ I said as I popped some kind of fruit tart in my mouth. The fruit was crystalized and was like an explosion on my tongue.

Harry’s eyes widened. ‘Like air hostess, police woman, cheerleader, that kind of thing?’

I shook my head. ‘Lots of different things really. One of my favourites was dressing up as a unicorn and he was a lion. He liked to take me from behind and he would roar when he came.’

Harry stared at me, his face unblinking. I picked up a tiny coffee éclair and caught the eye of a tiny little old lady sitting at the next table, her fruit tart poised halfway to her mouth. I blushed, realising she had heard every word.

Still, there was no going back now.

‘He liked to dress up as one of the flower pot men, Bill normally, I’m not sure why. I was always the flower, Weed. Then Bill would come at me with his big hose.’

The old lady leaned over to me. ‘Dear, do you have the name of the shop where you bought these costumes?’

‘I don’t I’m afraid, Tim always brought them with him. I will miss his big hose.’

Harry was still staring at me. ‘I didn’t realise you were into all that weird stuff.’

I licked the icing off the top of the éclair and popped it in my mouth, trying desperately to suppress my laughter but it was to no avail. I snorted so hard that a bubble of snot burst from my nose and I quickly had to wipe it away on my beautiful cotton serviette.

‘You’re joking?’ Harry looked almost relieved.

‘Of course I am.’

‘So you guys… didn’t…’

‘It’s none of your business. Just because you like to talk about all your sexploits, doesn’t mean the rest of us do.’

‘That’s a ‘no’ if ever I heard one.’ He smiled smugly. I wasn’t going to let him get away with that.

‘It’s a ‘yes’ actually, but it was just regular sex.’ I wanted to expand on that, regular sex sounded so boring. ‘Well as regular as three hour sex marathons can be. He had the stamina of a horse. We’d do it all over the flat. On the dining table, up against a wall, in the shower, in the kitchen, on top of the washing machine, backwards, forwards, sideways, doggy style.’

The old lady choked on her fruit scone.

‘Sideways?’ asked Harry.

‘Yes. You should try it, it’s great fun. Can you pass the sugar?’

I stared down at my tea. Sideways, how exactly would that work?

‘Tell me about your plans for the summer. You said you were thinking about going to New Zealand.’

Harry recovered himself well. ‘The land of the hobbits. I would love to. Maybe hire a camper van and drive from North to South. There’s so many things I want to do, but it’s more fun doing them with someone else.’

‘Sexy Samantha not keen?’

‘She’s definitely not the camper van sort. She’s more of the ‘five star hotel with daily spa treatments’ kind of girl. We should go.’

‘I would love that, I want to see the world, every tiny little pocket of it, but no girlfriend of yours is going to be happy about you taking another woman off on holiday. Sleeping together in the back of the camper van.’ I blushed as Harry’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I meant actually sleeping – not having sex.’

The old lady leaned in closer again, ready to catch the next instalment in my sex life.

‘I should hope not,’ Harry said, his tongue licking seductively up the side of his éclair. ‘I don’t have a lion costume.’

*

I sat back and watched the gold fireflies chase each other up the walls. I was so uncomfortably full, but everything was so hard to resist, that I’d had to eat it all.

We’d had a lovely time, chatting all afternoon, but one of the main topics of conversation from the other guests was the toilets and how funny they were. I had to check them out myself.

I excused myself from the table and, following the directions of the woodland nymph waitress, I walked through another restaurant to a very white room on the other side.

The stairs leading up to the toilets were a brilliant opulent white – looking like they led to somewhere much grander than just some toilets. I walked upstairs to a brightly lit room, the ceiling decorated with beautiful rainbow tiles, but as I reached the top I stopped in my tracks. Several pods sat in a white chamber at the top of the stairs, looking like white cocoons from an alien spaceship. They were about seven foot tall and tapered off like eggs at the top.

I looked around for the toilets but there was nothing else up here. On the other side of the room were several more pods. These pods were clearly the toilets and were obviously the reason for such amusement from the other guests.

I opened the door on one of them, expecting to hear some kind of space age whoosh and was slightly disappointed when I didn’t.

Inside was the weirdest toilet I had ever seen. There was no seat at all. I walked in and closed the door behind me. It was obviously some foreign kind of toilet where you stand. A long ceramic oval hung from the wall jutting out at the bottom to catch the waste. I stared at it – how on earth was I supposed to pee in that? Backwards seemed the only safe option. With a bit of negotiating I pointed my bum in the right direction and leaned forward into a sort of half squat. I quickly finished and after redressing I left the pod, dying to tell Harry about the very weird toilets. He was standing right outside and looked shocked to see me coming out of one of the pods.

‘What?’ I said

‘These are the boys’ toilets.’

I laughed. ‘No they’re not, the waitress pointed me up these stairs.’

‘Yes, the girls’ pods are over there.’ He pointed to the other side of the stairs where several pods were bathed in pink lights in comparison to the pods where I was that were bathed in blue.

Harry peered over my shoulder and burst out laughing. ‘Did the urinals not give you a clue?’

I looked back and gasped in horror. I had just peed in a urinal. Now he had pointed it out to me it was obvious. It wasn’t some weird foreign type toilet at all, just a bog standard urinal. I felt my cheeks glow crimson.

‘I’m intrigued. How exactly did you manage to pee in there?’

I quickly hurried to the sinks and washed my hands. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

I heard Harry go into one of the pods, his laughter so loud I could hear him from the outside.

 

 

To see the rest of the story pre –order your copy of One Hundred Proposals now. http://amzn.to/1ouP9w0

 

 

Chapter One-One Hundred Proposals by Holly Martin

Oh, do I have a treat for you all this Monday morning! (And no, it’s not another smokin’ hot pic of Tyler Seguin, you need to follow me on Twitter for those people.) But this treat is from my dear friend and writing twin, Holly Martin. You see, Holly and I met on Twitter last fall when we discovered a mutual love of Jammie Dodgers (a freaking awesome British cookie) and we both had  books being released on the same day in October (The Sentinel and Connectivity.) We because the best of friends and I can’t imagine doing this without Holly by my side. Holly is such an inspiration to me, my rock, and her writing inspires me EVERY DAY because it’s just so brilliant.

So…just for you…here is Chapter One of Holly’s newest release, One Hundred Proposals. I absolutely loved this book, and I think you all will, too.

 

Prologue

‘Ok, you can open your eyes now,’ Harry said.

I blinked in the gloom of the cave. Moonlight tumbled through the opening above us, reflecting off the waterfall as it cascaded into the pool below. We had been in Australia for just a few days but I knew it would never cease to amaze me. Dancing in the pockets of the cave walls were hundreds of fireflies, sparkling like fairy lights.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

The fireflies started to gather together and slowly a shape was formed. I frowned in confusion and then within seconds the words, ‘Suzie, Marry Me,’ stood proud against the cave walls, written by the fireflies.

I whirled round to face Harry in shock. ‘How did you do that?’ I looked back at the fireflies, not wanting to miss anything. Would they perhaps move to form the lyrics of my favourite song? Were they super trained fireflies and in a minute they’d all whip out their mini cheerleader pom-poms and start some kind of dance where they would balance precariously on each other’s backs?

‘It’s some kind of fruit juice, they love it.’

I fumbled in my bag for my camera. ‘We have to get a picture for the website.’

I fired off a couple of shots and I could see a few other tourists had entered the cave and were clearly waiting for my answer. They’d be waiting for a long time.

‘So what do you think?’ Harry said. ‘Is this the perfect proposal?’

‘It’s definitely one of your best, very romantic.’ I focused my attention on the photos I was taking. They were going to look fantastic with the waterfall in soft focus in the background and the fireflies in sharp detail set against the inky blue light of the moon.

‘But still not the perfect proposal?’

‘Not for me, but someone else would love it.’ I watched the faces of the other tourists fall at my callous response. ‘We’re not together, we just work with each other.’ One couple looked at me dubiously, so I pressed on. ‘Our company creates the perfect proposal, this kind of thing is our bread and butter.’

I resisted the sudden urge to rush over to them and start handing out business cards. As if reading my mind, Harry slung an arm round my shoulder, restraining me with his hand.

I looked up at him innocently but he didn’t seem convinced.

The tourists moved further down the cave, leaving us alone.

‘You always do that,’ Harry said.

‘What, promote our business? I know, I can’t help it. I’m just so proud of what we’ve achieved that I want to tell anyone that listens and anyone that doesn’t.’

‘No, not that. You always say our company, our business. It’s yours, you started it.  I’m just the tech guy.’

It was just me to start with. I created the.PerfectProposal.com over two years ago when my boyfriend at the time proposed drunkenly to me over a greasy kebab. It struck me that maybe the menfolk of this world might need a little helping hand to create a proposal their girlfriends would remember forever. Although the greasy kebab is not one I’m likely to forget.

Harry was my web designer. When the business first started he would come by my office, the back bedroom in my home, every day to help update the website with my new ideas, photos and special offers. In the end it made sense to make him a permanent feature. Our website looked fantastic and as an online company this was integral to our success.

But Harry wasn’t just the geeky IT guy, far from it. He was the biggest man I had ever seen in my life, with large thighs and big feet. He had stubbly, dark hair and chocolate eyes. But he also had a vivid imagination – where I was organising the logistics for a champagne helicopter trip, he would be the one that would come up with something completely unique like using fireflies.

‘And you always put yourself down. We’re equal partners now, you helped to make the company a success too,’ I said.

He shrugged, never keen to accept that he played such an important part in it. He gestured to the fireflies that were starting to break formation now. ‘Is it too sickly?’

I let my camera hang round my neck and leaned into him, I loved the way I fitted against him. ‘I love it, I really do, it’s… magical. But there’s still something missing.’

Was there really such a thing as a perfect proposal? Three months ago, just before Valentine’s Day, Harry had made it his mission to provide me with one. But deep down I knew what I wanted and I doubted Harry would be able to deliver it. I should have told him that when he first started this wild goose chase. It would have saved me a lot of heartache.

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

Three Months Before

I put the phone down on another excited client and sighed. It was February 11th and we’d had a surge of customers all desperately wanting to propose on top of the Eiffel Tower on Valentine’s Day. I felt like screaming. It was only by careful planning that I’d arranged that my customers weren’t going to be there at the same time. That’s just what a girl wants to feel special, to see other girls being proposed to at the same place and time that she was. Was there no originality anymore? Harry was brilliant at coming up with unique proposals, but no matter how many times I had tried to sell Harry’s ideas to them, they wanted the traditional and that was that.

‘Another Eiffel Tower?’ asked Harry as he absentmindedly uploaded photos to our rolling gallery.

‘He wants a dozen red roses delivered to the observation deck at eight.’ I rubbed my head in defeat. ‘What about something different, going to the ballet or proposing over a bag of chips at the end of Brighton Pier?’

He swivelled in his chair. ‘What would be your perfect proposal?’

I looked at him and had a sudden flash of him holding me in his arms and asking me to marry him.

‘I don’t know, the perfect guy would definitely be a bonus.’

‘Ok so you have your perfect guy and it’s not greasy kebab boy –’

‘Let’s be clear, it was the kebab that was greasy not the man.’

He waved away the details. ‘So Orlando Bloom or some other non-greasy hunk is asking you to marry him, how would he do it?’

I took a sip of tea whilst I pondered this. If one of my customers phoned up at a loss for inspiration I had a hundred ideas. But for me, my mind was blank.

‘I have an idea.’ Harry’s eyes were suddenly bright with excitement. He whirled round on his chair and started tapping away furiously on his computer. I peered over his shoulder at our website.

 

Proposer’s Blog

How Do You Propose to a Proposer?

Over the next hundred days I intend to find out. I will find one hundred ways to propose to our Chief Proposer Suzie McKenzie, and post the results here for your enjoyment. One thing’s for sure, not one of my proposals will be on top of the Eiffel Tower with a dozen red roses.

 

‘You can’t put that, we’ve had fifteen customers who want to propose like that over the last week,’ I said, ignoring the sudden thundering of my heart that Harry was going to propose to me.

‘Then maybe they’ll have a rethink.’ Harry was already uploading a picture of a diamond ring onto the blog.

‘Or ask for their money back.’

But Harry was still writing.

 

Day 1: The Traditional Proposal. Location:  Our office.

 

He stood up and got down on one knee – yanking the snake ring off his thumb, he held it aloft to my shocked face.

‘Suzie McKenzie, you are my best friend and I cannot imagine finding anyone I would rather spend the rest of my life with. Marry me.’

The world stopped. My mouth was dry. How unfair was it that the one thing I wanted most in the world was happening right in front of me and it was as real as a pair of breasts on Sunset Boulevard.

I wanted to snatch the ring off him, stuff it on my finger and march him down to the nearest registry office. But I didn’t.

I cleared my throat of the huge lump. ‘Too clichéd, wrong location, wrong ring.’

He grinned as he appraised his ring and stood up, clearly not fussed by this rejection. He started typing.

 

Crashed and Burned. Apparently a snake ring with evil red eyes and the beige walls of our cramped office isn’t good enough for her. I’ll try again tomorrow.

 

Surely not. A hundred days of this torment? I didn’t think I could bear it.

He looked at his watch. ‘Oh, I’ve got to go, hot date with Sexy Samantha again tonight.’

Samantha was his first girlfriend in nearly a year. When I first met him he seemed to go through a different girl each week, so I wasn’t sure why he’d gone through the sudden dry patch. But Samantha was definitely the type to tempt him out of it.

I’d had the pleasure of meeting Sexy Samantha the night before. Suspicious of Harry’s relationship with his best friend, she’d barrelled into my home and demanded that Harry introduce me. I came downstairs in leggings and an oversized black hoodie – I knew I was hardly dressed to impress. And impress her I didn’t. The look of relief when Samantha saw me was palpable. She, on the other hand, was a vision of heavenly loveliness. She was almost as tall as Harry, with long blonde hair and curves everywhere. My eyes were immediately drawn to a big pair of breasts, squeezed between an overly tight top. Harry was definitely a breast man. All of his girlfriends were very well-endowed in the breast department. Some of the breasts, I suspected, weren’t even real – though Harry didn’t seem to mind. I was more in the straight up, straight down department, definitely no curves and not really any breasts to speak of.

I watched Harry log off his computer with haste and obvious excitement about what Sexy Samantha had in store for him that night.

‘I have a hot date too,’ I blurted out, watching for any flicker of jealousy. Of course there was none.

‘That’s great Suze.’ He looked genuinely pleased. ‘You haven’t seen anyone since Jack…’ He trailed off. My life was defined into two segments. Before Jack and After Jack. I wondered if Jules felt the same. He grabbed his jacket, averting his eyes from me, perhaps knowing that he had said something he shouldn’t. ‘It’s about time you got back on the horse again. We can swap notes tomorrow.’

‘Or not.’ I couldn’t bear thinking about that conversation. The literal ins and outs of Harry’s date would be something I really didn’t want to hear. I’d changed the subject twice that morning already when he started giving me explicit details that would be right at home on the pages of an erotic fiction novel.  Sexy Samantha was far kinkier than those baby blue eyes might suggest. Besides, what did I have to contribute to that conversation? My hot date consisted of a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and a night in with the beautiful Brad Pitt. I logged off my own computer, keen to show him I also had something exciting to run off to.

‘Where did you meet him?’

I racked my brain as I fluffed out my hair in the reflection of a photo showing me and Harry covered in snow and grinning ear to ear after sledging at the indoor Snow Zone. Before Jack.

‘Skiing,’ I said, then wished I hadn’t.

He stopped in his hasty exit. ‘Skiing? When have you been skiing?’

‘I go every Sunday, skiing lessons, he’s my ski instructor.’ I was making it worse.

‘You hate skiing.’

I had said that hadn’t I. Because this photo was taken when we had our first and last skiing lesson a year before. I had spent forty minutes falling on my bum – as kids as young as five glided effortlessly past me – and the last twenty minutes of the lesson, after Harry had been upgraded to the adult slopes, trying to get up and rolling around on the floor with my skis in the air, looking like an oversized beetle stranded on its back. Harry had felt sorry for me that I had failed so spectacularly and had taken me sledging instead. Much more up my street. There was no skill at all involved in sliding down a slope in a red plastic sledge.

‘I like it now. I’m very proficient. Obviously just needed the right instructor.’

‘Well that’s great, maybe we can go together sometime.’

I fixed a smile onto my face. ‘Maybe.’

‘What’s his name?’

I cast around for a suitable name and a suitable adjective to describe him, something comparable to Sexy Samantha. I had nothing, no names in my head at all. The only name in my head was Harry and that would be too weird. He was staring at me, waiting for me to come up with a name, the silence stretched on. I had to say something.

‘Tim.’ I almost shouted out with relief. ‘Tiny Tim.’

Great. Just great.

Harry’s face fell. ‘Tiny Tim?’

‘Yes.’

‘As in…’ he waggled his little finger at me.

‘No, no, of course not, he’s very big in that department. Big all over in fact. Huge. It’s kind of an ironic name.’

‘Big like me?’

‘Well I have no idea how big you are in that department.’ My eyes cast down to the sizeable bulge in his jeans and I felt my cheeks burn as he clearly saw me checking him out.

‘I meant in height,’ Harry said. I’m sure I saw his mouth twitch as he supressed a smile.

‘Oh yes, he’s very tall.’

‘Good. That’s good. I have a friend who’s a ski instructor at the Snow Zone, he might know your Tim. What’s his surname?’

‘Timmings.’

I was a terrible liar.

‘Tim Timmings?’

‘That’s right.’

A horn tooted outside and Harry peeled back the net curtain to wave at Sexy Samantha as she leaned on the bonnet of her sexy red convertible. I didn’t think I’d ever be so relieved to see her again.

‘Well have fun.’ Harry threw me a cursory wave as he thundered down the stairs. A second later I heard the front door slam.

I peered out the window, hoping not to be noticed as Harry swept Sexy Samantha into his arms and swung her round as if he hadn’t seen her in months. As he deposited her on the floor she waved up at me and I was forced to wave politely back.

With a wheel spin and the stereo blaring out something young and hip, the red convertible roared up the road, taking my heart with it.

I’d been in love with Harry for two long, painful years and we were further away today from getting together than we had been when we first met. We were now firmly in the friend zone and there was never any coming back from that.

Two years was way too long for unrequited love. It was time I moved on with someone else. I would just fall out of love with him, simple as that.

I sighed as I walked into my bedroom and got changed into my cow print onesie. I flicked through some songs on my iPod until I found something suitably rousing and as Gloria Gaynor started belting out ‘I am what I am’, I turned up the volume, leapt up onto the bed and danced and wiggled my bum in time with the lyrics. I was highly skilled in the playing of air drums and as Gloria reached a crescendo so did my frenetic drum playing. As the instrumental kicked in I leapt off the bed, doing the splits mid-air. I pulled a muscle in my groin and as I flicked my hair theatrically out of my face I saw Harry’s eyes widen in horror as I landed on top of him, one leg somehow hooked over his shoulder as my other foot kicked him square in his crotch.

He screamed in pain. I screamed with embarrassment as he staggered back and landed hard on his bum, my leg still wrapped round his neck.

Gloria was still singing loudly in the background as we stared at each other. Finally I managed to speak.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Currently, wondering if I’ll ever be able to have sex again. Can you please get off my lap?’

I quickly climbed off him, kneeing him in the face as I tried to stand up. He slowly staggered to his feet, doubled over in obvious pain.

‘I forgot my wallet,’ he said, by way of explanation.

I swallowed. ‘You saw me dance?’

He lifted his head and this time there was no mistaking the grin. ‘From the very beginning to the dramatic finale.’

I groaned.

‘I better go, Samantha will be wondering where I am. Nice onesie by the way. Does Tiny Tim have one too? A horse or a pig perhaps?’

I stared down at myself, at the pink udders hanging limply from my stomach, and wanted the ground to swallow me up. ‘He’s not coming round till later.’

‘Of course not. And I imagine he thinks you look quite cute in it.’

Cute? Puppies were cute. Is that how he thought of me, as a cute little puppy?

He moved to the top of the stairs and I followed him.

‘Do you think I look cute in it?’

He turned and walked back up a few stairs, kneeling on the stair below me so we were eye to eye. ‘Yes.’

My heart dropped. I was so far in the friend zone I was now categorised as cute. He’d be patting me on the back next and telling me he saw me like a sister.

‘Sexy cute?’

‘No.’

My heart sank into my feet.

‘I bet Samantha would look sexy in it?’

‘I doubt it. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to look sexy in it.’

I felt slightly better at this.

‘And don’t underestimate the value of cute, it’s a great quality to have.’ He leaned forward and kissed me on the nose. ‘And don’t stay up too late, I have a big day planned for you tomorrow.’

He ran down the stairs and was gone a second later.

I touched my nose, still feeling the softness of his lips. He thought I was cute. I smiled as I fell in love with him all over again.

 

To see chapter 2 check back here tomorrow or pre –order your copy of One Hundred Proposals now. http://amzn.to/1ouP9w0

Cover Reveal-One Hundered Proposals by Holly Martin

I am so excited to take part in the cover reveal for my writing twin, Holly Martin, and her upcoming release, One Hundred Proposals! I had the pleasure of reading the advance copy of this book, and I can tell you right now–get your passports ready to travel the world in search of the perfect proposal–and true love-with this funny, heartwarming, romantic story told in the one-of-a-kind way that Holly brings to all her books.

The cover is just as gorgeous as the story. Here’s the blurb:

 

‘Is there really such a thing as a perfect proposal?

Over the next hundred days I intend to find out. I will find one hundred ways to propose to our Chief Proposer Suzie McKenzie and post the results here for your enjoyment. One thing’s for sure, not one of my proposals will be on top of the Eiffel Tower with a dozen red roses.’

 

Best friends Suzie and Harry are partners in romance. That is, they run the.PerfectProposal.com, coming to the aid of would-be grooms to create the ultimate marriage proposal.

 

But when Harry decides to catapult the business into the big leagues with a PR stunt all Suzie can see is a hundred days of heartbreak stretching ahead of her. But however exotic the location, or breath-takingly romantic the setting, Suzie has to keep remembering that ‘Marry Me?’ is the one question she can’t say yes to.

 

This business proposal should come with one hundred broken heart warnings…

One hundred proposals, one hundred chances to say yes.

Want to see more? Here’s the video!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1d_sQGfmew&feature=youtu.be

And you have a chance to say YES to this book RIGHT NOW!  You can PREORDER this book so you can have it in your hands on the release date, June 25! GO.CLICK.NOW. http://amzn.to/1ouP9w0  You won’t regret it. I loved it, and if you like my books, you’ll love this one. There is a reason why Holly and I call each other Twinnie. So congrats, Holly, on another brilliant book. I’m so excited for June 25!

 

 

Dallas Demons #2

I’m still in the sketching phase, but I thought some of you would like to read the concept behind the next book. So here it is!

Twenty-four-year-old Kenley Hunter finally has everything sorted out. Fresh from studying chocolate making in Europe for a year after a break-up, she’s gambling everything on her new business, Confection Consultations.

 Her passion for all things chocolate has led to a different discovery—people don’t fixate on the beautiful blond that she is when she’s working as a chocolate consultant. With chocolate, they see past Kenley’s looks and fall for the chocolate delights in front of them. People seek her knowledge–which is what Kenley has always wanted in life.

With chocolate as her secret weapon (and protective shield), Kenley is ready to start her new life back in Dallas. Men are out of her recipe, because she fears that once they get past her looks they’ll be disappointed in what they find. Can someone really love her for who she is and not her looks? Kenley decides that doesn’t matter. She’s all about the chocolate now.

 Or is she?

 Because a chance meeting with new Dallas Demon Nate Johansson might just turn her interest to something other than dark chocolate with gogi berries and sea salt. Sent to Dallas from Minneapolis in a blockbuster trade, Nate is furious. He’s somewhere he doesn’t want to be, for reasons that have caused him heartbreak on multiple levels. Nate knows he will never trust a woman again after what happened to him back in Minnesota.

But when he meets a woman with an intriguing name and a passion for chocolate, Nate isn’t so sure about his theory. And he might just learn a definition of icing other than the one used in hockey with Kenley as his guide…

 

Waiting for Prince Harry-Bonus Scene #1

I’m curled up on the sofa in the wee hours of the morning, aimlessly flipping channels on TV. Saying there is nothing on at two-thirty Sunday morning is a huge understatement. Both Cooper and Lola are lounging with me, and we’re all waiting anxiously for one thing.

For Harrison to return from his first road trip of the season.

He’s been gone for a week, doing a swing in Toronto, Detroit, and finishing with a game against the Minneapolis  Black Bears.  I know I need to get used to this–and it’s a long season ahead, with this being early October–but I missed him so much this week! Of course, we talked all the time and texted and did FaceTime and I didn’t miss a game on TV, but still–I find it hard to sleep when he’s not in bed next to me. Or I miss the way I can look over from spot at my sewing table and see him in his chair, reading while I work.

But  Harrison reassured me he would make up for being gone upon his return. I blush at the thought, as he did promise me in every way possible. . .

Suddenly I hear the garage door open. Both Cooper and Lola begin to bark and spring toward the back door, and I leap up with them, as I can’t wait to welcome him home.

The back door opens, and in walks Harrison, looking sexy as hell in his black leather jacket and bag slung over his shoulder. The second he sees me his green eyes light up, and that beautiful smile passes over his face. The smile that is mine and mine alone to see.

Oh God I have missed this man.

“Welcome home,” I say eagerly, going to him.

Harrison drops his bag on the floor and immediately pulls me to his muscular chest, his hands sliding up through my hair.  “Did you wait up for me, Gorgeous Girl?”

Then he drops his lips on mine in a slow, sexy kiss.

I kiss him back, relishing the feel of his stubble scratching against my face as his mouth caresses mine.  His hands are still tangling in my hair, and I slide my hands down to his waist.  He smells of leather and his familiar spicy vanilla cologne, and I relish being in his arms again.

“I missed you,” Harrison murmurs against my lips. He kisses me again and then breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’ve never missed anyone on the road before. Or had anyone waiting up for me to come home. I love you so much. I couldn’t wait to get home to you tonight.”

“I love you more. I couldn’t sleep without you beside me,” I say honestly. “And I’ll always be waiting for you to come home.”

I step back and notice a cut across the bridge of his nose.  I gently trace my fingertips over it. “Did you get that trying to break up that fight?”

Harrison takes my hand and kisses my fingers. “Yeah. That was a battle tonight,” he says.  He wraps his hand around mine and we walk into our kitchen. “Minneapolis is getting better. And they have a great player in Nate Johansson. That guy is a wicked fast skater.”

Harrison bends down to pet Cooper and Lola, and my heart always melts when I see how loving he is toward his dogs.

“He can’t possibly be as wicked fast as you,” I tease, putting emphasis on “wicked.”

Harrison laughs and stands up. “Oh, he is. Smart with the puck,too. I’d love to have him on my line.”

I decide to tease him. “He’s good looking.  I did notice that much on TV. So I’d approve of the Demons adding Nate to your line.”

Harrison arches an eyebrow. “Oh, do you now?”

“Yes,” I say, taking Harrison’s hand back in mine and pulling him down the hall. “Very attractive with that dark brown hair, the stubble, the tattoos. Nate has a legion of fans, I’m sure.”

As we move down the hallway, Harrison stops and pins me up against the wall. He has one hand on my waist, the other braced against the wall over my head.

“So are you one of Nate’s fans?” he asks sexily. “Should I be worried, Kylie??”

I pull on Harrison’s belt buckle. “I’m only a fan of one hockey player and one player only,” I declare, unbuckling his belt. “And that’s you.”

“Good,” Harrison whispers. Then he kisses me on the mouth.

Heat sears through me.

“Shall I show you how big of a fan I am?” I whisper against his lips.

“Yes,” Harrison says, his fingertips grazing the bottom of my Dallas Demons T-shirt. “Now let me take you to bed. And I don’t intend to be sleeping anytime soon tonight.”

Harrison kisses me harder, and desire surges in me as he leads me up the stairs to our bedroom.

And as I fall back on the bed, with Harrison’s kisses landing all over my body, I can’t help but think of how incredibly lucky I am.  To have this man who desires me, respects me, loves me and believes in me.

And now it’s time for me to show him just how much I missed him this week.

***

I snuggle up against Harrison. “Aren’t you going to be tired tomorrow?” I ask.

Harrison kisses the top of my head. “Hmmm, staying up until to make love to my sexy girlfriend? Worth it. I’ll rally with coffee tomorrow.”

I laugh and so does Harrison. He’s playing with my hair as I lie on his chest, and I’m so happy and relaxed I could just drift off right now.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” I ask, drawing circles on his chest with my fingertips.

“I’m going to make us a huge breakfast,” Harrison declares.

“Mmmmm,” I say. “I want waffles.”

“Your wish is my command.”

I laugh. “So we’ll eat and read the paper and drink coffee. What else?”

“Well,” Harrison says slowly, “I was thinking we could go to Cartier.”

I sit straight up and look at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Are you going to buy me fancy jewlery everytime there’s a roadtrip? Because I don’t think your financial advisor would approve of that, Harrison.”

Harrison slides his hand lightly over my arm. “No. I was thinking of engagement rings.”

I stop breathing. I know we’re going to get married. But this makes it so real, looking at rings.

And my heart is so full of love I think it might explode inside my chest.

“Yes,” I say, nodding. Then I feel a huge smile spread across my face. “Yes, I want to look at rings!”

Harrison flashes me that beautiful smile. “I want to look at tons of them.I want you to try them all on. I want to be ready for when I propose. Which will be before the end of the year, Gorgeous.”

“I can’t wait for that,” I say.

“Me too.”

“But you’re really mean for telling me this and then expexcting me to be able to sleep,” I cry, laughing. “I’m too excited to sleep now.”

Harrison laughs with me. “Okay, that might be worth a trip to the pentalty box. With the understanding that you can punish me however you see fit.”

Oh God. Now that’s another good idea that will cause me to lose more sleep.

“Now come here, I’m getting tired,” Harrison says, yawning.

I slip back into his arms and before long, my Hockey God is asleep. I feel myself getting tired and I know I’m going to fall asleep soon, too.

Dreaming of the amazing future I have with my very own Prince Harry.