A hardcore Science Fiction writer and a soft-hearted romance novelist clash on the sunny South African coast...
Margaret Parker is a hopeless romantic whose fantasies fuel her writing. For Graham Connelly, science fiction is the perfect genre to express his cynical world view. A chance meeting in a lift leaves them both interested and aroused — with no clue as to the other's identity.
Margaret has been looking for a face to match her new fictional hero — and Graham's is it. Graham has been looking for proof that innocence and optimism still exist — and he's found it in Margaret. But fantasy isn't reality, and both Margaret and Graham are used to controlling their fictional worlds. Can they step off the pages long enough to find their own happy-ever-after?
A link to Escape Publishing where you can find a link to all the e-book retailers: http://www.escapepublishing.com.au/product/9780857990921
And one to amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Love-Writing-Elsa-Winckler-ebook/dp/B00FB3MWNE/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1390813580&sr=1-1&keywords=Love%2C+in+writing
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Margaret said and with her chin held high, tried to squeeze past Jen. Unfamiliar feelings had kept her up most of the night and when she’d finally fallen asleep, erotic images of her and Graham making love woke her up. Now all she wanted to do was to try and occupy her mind with something normal so that these constant thoughts about a strange man could vanish.
Laughingly, Jen grabbed her arm. ‘Oh no, you’re not getting off so easily. The last time I saw you, Graham Connelly had you in his arms and you looked blissfully happy. What happened?’
Margaret winced. ‘He actually carried me out?’
‘I was sleeping?’
‘Snoring. You, my friend,’ Jen said and pointed towards Margaret, ‘were completely and wonderfully sloshed. You did it with style, though, I’ll give you that. No loud singing or dancing on the tables, you just passed out gracefully. A good thing, considering some of the esteemed guests we had.’
Margaret opened her mouth, but then closed it again. She stormed down the corridor to her office. She should find a hole where she could hide out for the rest of the day. Jen’s peals of laughter followed her all the way into her office.
She sat down and cradled her head in her hands. Two glasses were her limit. What was she thinking? And to be so out of it that she didn’t even know Graham of all people had carried her. What must he be thinking? A groan escaped her lips.
Her fingers touched her mouth. She could still taste him, feel him. Who was this man who had, within the short span of a few days, thrown her completely off balance? And why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Stop dreaming about him?
Margaret opened her eyes. Jen stood in the door with a cup of coffee.