"JAMES, I loved your last crime novel it's been a huge success." "Thank you; Fire Games took quite a while to write." James Buxton sat opposite his publicist, Amanda Daltry, a woman who was twenty- years his senior. By interviewing other authors, he discovered she was in her early forties. Somehow, she always managed to get what she wanted. In the four years since they met, she talked straight to the point. She saw things in black and white. A writer either liked or loathed her. James sat on the fence. He respected Amanda for the business-woman she portrayed, and he hated her at the same time. The only place they ever talked happened to be in her office after he'd finished a book. Since their first meeting, he'd seen her out at night only twice. The first time happened by accident when his close friends insisted he go with them to a Melbourne nightclub. He saw Amanda sitting at a table amongst five ladies. She held a wine glass firmly in her hand. The second time they crossed paths he was sitting in his BMW convertible, watching her kissing some bloke in a car at a supermarket carpark. He felt surprised she opened the passenger door to the Mercedes sports car and walked off into the night, seeing how the drizzle had changed to rain. What surprised him even more; Amanda didn't look back at the car. He thought she would change her mind when the driver started the engine. Then he thought she'd wait for the car to draw level with her. Neither guess happened to be correct. The car completed a slow U-turn. At speed the vehicle was driven down the road. It didn't take long for the engine noise to fade and the tail lights to vanish. James sat in the driver's seat of his car thinking about the scene. A crime novel began to unravel in his mind. It was something he'd always been able to do quite easily. He finally made up his mind Amanda must have been ending an affair, though speculation always got him into trouble. Sitting further back in the office chair, Amanda's mini-skirt shortened. She eyeballed James through brown eyes. He saw her frown and flick a few strands of long blonde hair from her face. James used an even pace to walk across the thick cream coloured carpet to the window. He stood watching the cars buzzing past in the Melbourne CBD. He loved the city for the rush. When he needed to, he'd sit at his favorite café observing people going through their daily life while he waited for inspiration to start a new novel. He didn't have the courage to tell Amanda he'd slipped into the vortex of the dreaded writer's block. James turned from the window to focus on Amanda. "From the first day we met, you represented someone who never gets nervous about anything. Today you seem on edge over something?"
Chapter 1 2
You have an insight many authors don't possess. Your ability to sense how people are
feeling has seen through me."
"What are you nervous about?"
"Those who pay my wages have insisted I find an author to write a romance novel.
You're the next in line."
"I don't write romance. I write crime. I've got lots of great ideas on how to expand the
Kendal chronicles. Fire Games was just the beginning. In a few short years, there's going
to be a shelf full of crime novels. They'll be great."
"James, you're probably not aware of the fact we receive at least two hundred emails a
day from your fans."
"So, what does that tell you?" he interrupted.
"I know where this conversation is heading," hinted Amanda.
"It's plain and simple; readers love my crime novels."
"James, start writing a romance novel. I've booked you into a bed and breakfast hotel
in Mt Martha for the next four weeks."
"I've already explained the fact I can't write romance."
Of course, you can. You're a handsome bloke. Kiss a woman then write a fantasy
about her. Better still; go and meet her at a local dance. Chat the woman up for a few hours
and go to a cheap hotel somewhere. You know what to do from there."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Do I have to spell it out?"
"I'm not the kind of bloke who jumps into bed with any woman."
"James, go write me a romance novel."
"What if I refuse?"
Amanda Daltry stood. Instead of pushing her mini skirt down she left the material
sitting high on her thighs. She strolled majestically across the room to the window. Pushing
her breasts into James' arm she lifted her hands, placing them on either side of his head. He
then felt her long fingers and red polished nails being buried in his dark hair. He stood an
even six feet tall. Amanda leveled her gaze on his eyes. She leaned closer; her long blonde
hair brushed his cheek. She swept her lips across the surface of his. On their return, she
kissed him. For a long time, they stood at the window in the sunshine locked in the
seductive French kiss.
With a back step, Amanda used the tips of her fingers to tap James playfully on the
side of his cheek. She turned and slowly walked across the room, sitting cross-legged again
at her desk. The provocative grin she threw James faded, replaced by the professional
business-woman in her.
"James, there's a love story in all of us. Go, write me a romance novel. I expect to see
an almost finished product on my desk no later than the fifth of April."
"You'll have it on time," he grumbled.
James didn't look back, marching across the office floor. He yanked the door open to
the startled expression of the receptionist. Just for a moment, he wondered if she suspected
anything on what transpired between him and Amanda. He also deliberated if she could tell
his eyes were ablaze.
Other books by E.E.Asuquo Novelz
More