SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY - A PRIVATE PLACE

Time again for Six Sentence Sunday. I was remiss last week but I plead being too immersed in my wip which, I am now proud to say, is no longer wip but complete. I have posted from this m.s before - usually an angst ridden six but I thought I would go with something more light hearted today....

He stood, leaning against his desk, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded in the stance she knew so well. The navy suit was businessman efficient. He’d always looked good in dark colours. But some things never change. Rebecca bit back a nervous giggle. Mr. J was still crap at ties.

A Private Place is as yet unpubbed but I am hoping to find a home for it soon. This tale holds a very special place in my heart. Here is a blurb and short excerpt:

Blurb:

Rebecca Harding is intelligent, witty and sometimes downright annoying. She is also damaged. To the outside world, she presents an image of a young woman in control, confident and cynical but no one knows her torment. In her nightmare, she is alone.
But then, Max Jackson enters her life when it is teetering on the brink. Despite a rocky start to their relationship, he becomes her salvation.
Max is the only person who knows the truth. He understands her fears and wants to protect her fragile heart. In Rebecca, he recognizes a kindred spirit. He would give anything to take away her pain but he comes to realize Rebecca has read more into his concern. He would rather die than hurt her but life throws him a curve ball, leaving him no choice but to walk away.

Excerpt:

Chapter One


Max Jackson rested his head against the mullion window, watching the rain drum out its incessant beat. He wondered if he would ever get used to England’s capricious climate. A mundane deliberation. The weather was the least of his worries. What did he know about teaching? So, he wasn’t a total novice but an honors degree was no substitute for experience.
Tom, ever loyal, had faith in him – which was more than could be said for Max’s father. If he had, Max wouldn’t even be here, so no point heading down that long, sorry road, especially two days before the start of term and especially when he hadn’t even downed his first beer.
Raising the bottle to his lips, his gaze fixed on the photograph on top of the cast-iron fireplace. Kate’s cool beauty failed to invoke a gut-wrenching reaction. That spoke volumes. Max lobbed the empty bottle into the wastepaper basket. He wouldn’t think about Kate. What was done was done.
He supposed he ought to go shopping. His stomach couldn’t handle another greasy take-away. Beans on toast it was. If he hurried, he’d make the tiny corner shop there and back in time for the rugby match. Besides, a walk in the rain just might clear the dusty cobwebs from his head.
Grabbing a black brolly from the stand, Max smiled at his reflection in the hall mirror. So English gentleman.
* * * *
Max slammed his beans onto the shop counter feeling anything but gentlemanly. His free-with- two- gallons- of- petrol umbrella had taken one look at the vigorous wind and had flown away with it. Water ran in cold rivulets down his neck and under his collar. Oh to be back in Sydney.
“Good afternoon. Just this, please and –”
“Hi, Mary.”
A riot of dark hair breezed in front of him.
“Sorry…”
The young voice was breathless, arrogant and not in the least bit sorry.
“Bloody pervert dog.” She threw down some coins and grabbed a Mars Bar from the chocolate stand. “Vicky left the front door open again and Wally made a break for it and I know he’s heading for Mrs. Blair’s poodle. The only way I can entice him home is with one of these.” She waved the chocolate bar precariously close to Max’s nose. “Stupid old bat. Why doesn’t she get her done? She really ought to pay me stud fees. I –”
“Excuse me but I do believe I was before you.” Patience on rice paper thin, Max attacked her with his best Aussie tough guy glint.
It didn’t have much effect. Eyes, the colour of velvet chocolate homed in and speared him with a look of such disdain that he squirmed. By the expression on her haughty face, he knew he’d been judged and definitely found wanting. Obviously deciding he’d taken up enough of her time, she turned back to the awaiting Mary.
“Thanks.” She picked up her change. Grabbing her Mars Bars, she spun on her Converse heels. “Bloody Colonials”
Max stared after her, speechless. “What.....” he turned to the smiling Mary. “….was that?”

Enjoy and a Happy Easter to all
Viviane

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