Contemporary Romance / Comedy
Title: A Little Bit of Madness
Author: Sheryl Browne
Date Published: 2/14/13
Celia Summers, intrepid mother of two, loves her work as an art therapist at The Harbour Rest Home. She’s proud of her elderly independents’ artwork, even if her partner, Martin, is disparaging of their efforts. But then, Martin is preoccupied, trying to get his hands on his mother’s home, Charlton Hall, to bail himself out of debt. To which end, he has to get Celia on side with a fabrication of lies.
Meanwhile, Celia fights to keep The Harbour from being closed. She’s ready to abseil from a church steeple to bring attention to the plight of her old people, no matter that she might fall and end up splattered all over the flagstones. When she does fall, however, it’s much more painfully. Police Constable Alex Burrows, son of Colonel Burrows, is considerate, caring and chivalrous. He has a wicked sense of humour, which makes Celia laugh, though when she learns of the circumstances surrounding his disabled daughter, she wants to cry. Alex also has a reputation as a womaniser, which Celia tries to ignore. His trying to influence his father’s Will though, she can’t. Alex, who little by little has stolen her heart, appears to be just as much a liar as Martin.
Will Alex be able redeem himself? Or is evicting Celia from Charlton Hall, which she and her elderlies have laid siege to, the final straw?
Excerpt:
Celia rounded a bend, one eye on the speedometer
and one on Ben strapped in the back. He was kneading his eyes, tired and
miserable, poor mite. ‘Never mind, sweetheart,’ she soothed, ‘we’ll be home
soon and Daddy will read you Greenwill … Oh, shit! Shit!’
She slammed on the brakes. Too late, something
hit the windscreen with a sickening thud—black and wild-eyed like a bat out of
hell. Celia flinched and squeaked.
The car swerved.
She grappled with the wheel, but it wouldn’t …
‘G-- … d-- … it, STRAIGHTEN UP!’ She
found herself bellowing above the screech of the brakes, the terrifying squeal
of rubber on wet tarmac. She’d been driving too fast. Much too fast. ‘Oh, dear
G--!’ The car veered, teetered for an agonisingly slow second on two wheels,
then came to an abrupt, stomach-wrenching halt.
All was suddenly quiet. Deathly quiet. No sound
at all except for the pounding of her heart in her ears.
It was on
a slant, Celia realised, dazed, as if lost in some terrible dream. It was going
to turn over. She tore at her belt, her eyes blinded by tears. ‘Ben!? Oh,
please, please … ’ With strength she hadn’t known she possessed, she
heaved the driver’s door up and scrambled out. She fell. Grazed her knee, but
didn’t feel it.
‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare take my baby!’ she yelled, struggling with the tailgate,
jabbing at the release button, pushing it, shoving it and finally, finally,
yanking it wide enough to crawl inside.
‘Ben?’ she said again, her voice barely a
whisper.
‘Thit!’ said Ben, his eyes like saucers.
‘Oh, my beautiful, beautiful baby.’ Celia
unbuckled him, scooped him over the seat
into her arms, and deeply breathed in the pure scent of him. ‘Naughty
Mummy. Naughty word.’ As she shuffled back out, she laughed a hysterical laugh,
which caught in her throat, then turned into a sob that came from her soul.
Ben blinked, stunned for a second before his
surprise at his roller-coaster ride turned to out-and-out shock. Mummies didn’t
cry. Celia knew she was turning his little world upside down twice in a row,
but she couldn’t stop. The tears rolled down her face until, in snotty-nosed
unison, mother and son sobbed together.
Even when a gentle arm wrapped itself around
her, a concerned voice asked if she was all right, she couldn’t stop. Ben
clutched to her breast, she turned and sobbed even harder, right into a
stranger’s shoulder.
‘Hey, hey,’ he said as she cried mascara all
over his shirt, ‘come on. You’re safe now. It’s not the end of the world.’
‘It is,’ Celia assured him, her body shuddering
from her head to her toes. ‘I could have killed him!’ It came out a scream. She
couldn’t help it. People had thought her mad to have another child so late in
life, but they couldn’t have known that from the moment she’d felt him growing
inside her she would have killed for him. The raw hollowness she’d felt fifteen
long years back, when she’d walked away from the special care baby unit,
leaving her second child—so cruelly stolen from life in too short a time—washed
over her afresh. For the first time, in
a long time, she let it—and cried harder.
‘Well, you didn’t,’ the man said, his tone firm.
‘Sounds to me as if he’s very much alive and kicking.’ He pulled her close,
stroked her hair, as if she was a child in need of comfort—and she was. Oh G--,
how she was. Then, carefully cajoling Ben as he did so, the stranger persuaded
Celia to part with him.
‘I hit something.’ Celia sniffled, immediately
at ease when the man nestled Ben’s head on his shoulder as only a father would.
‘I must have … It must be dead?’
He met her eyes. His were kind, she noticed, and
sincere. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I think it might be. You couldn’t have avoided it,’
he added quickly as Celia’s eyes filled up all over again. ‘I was behind you.
It launched itself from the hedge like a bloody cat out of he--.’
Celia swiped her hand under her nose. ‘Not a bat
then?’ She emitted something between a laugh and a hiccup then squeezed her
eyes shut. As if it made any difference what animal it was. She’d still caused
it unnecessary suffering. ‘It could have been a cyclist,’ she said. ‘Or someone
else’s child.’ That thought had her clamping her hand over her mouth and crying
all over again.
‘Do you—hiccup—think it might—hiccup—still be
alive?’ she asked a minute later, quivery-voiced and all cried-out.
‘I doubt it,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll go and take
a look, shall I?’
She nodded.
‘Come on.’ He turned for his car. Celia
followed, unable to do much else with his arm wrapped around her son.
‘The emergency services are on their way,’ he
said, seating her authoritatively in the passenger seat, handing Ben over, and
then reaching over the back for his coat. ‘I’ll be two minutes.’ He draped the
coat about her. ‘I’m guessing it belongs to the people whose garden it flew out
of. It might be good idea to let them know.’
Celia nodded, feeling wrung out, wretched and
cowardly. She should go, not him. She should own up and see the distress she’d
caused its poor owner. Somehow she doubted he’d let her. Doubted also her
wobbly legs would carry her that far. Better to stay here, she thought, closing
heavy eyes and leaning her head against the headrest. Keep Ben safe.
Safe?! Lo--, she didn’t know this man from Adam!
Yet she’d just climbed into his car! He could be a maniac on the loose. A mad
axe murderer! Her eyes shot open to find his face disturbingly close to hers.
(Guest Post by the Author)
As part of my book blog tour I was invited to offer you a peek into my writing space.
Meet my co-writer:
The Editorial Staff:
And star of my debut book (nominated for Innovation in Romantic Fiction), Recipes for Disaster.
RAMBO! Don’t you just love him!
Sheryl Browne
Author Bio:
Now residing in Worcestershire, Sheryl Browne grew up in Birmingham, UK, where she studied Art & Design. She wears many hats: a partner in her own business, a mother, and a foster parent to disabled dogs. Creative in spirit, Sheryl has always had a passion for writing. A member of the Romantic Novelists' Association, she has previously been published in the US and writes Romantic Comedy because, as she puts it, "life is just too short to be miserable."
Sheryl's debut novel, RECIPES FOR DISASTER - combining deliciously different and fun recipes with sexilicious romantic comedy, is garnering some fabulous reviews! Sheryl has also been offered a further three-book contract under the Safkhet Publishing Soul imprint. SOMEBODY TO LOVE, a romantic comedy centring around a single policeman father’s search for love, his autistic little boy and the boy’s Autism Assistance Dog, launched July 1 with an immediate 5* review. WARRANT FOR LOVE, bringing together three couples in a twisting story that resolves perfectly, released August 1, and A LITTLE BIT OF MADNESS releases on Valentine’s Day 2013.
Twitter: @sherylbrowne
Buy Link
Ruth, thank you so much for showcasing my work so beautifully! I am proud to be here - and reminded how blessed I am to have a certain little co-writer in my life. When the going gets tough (as life can sometimes), he just makes me smile from ear to ear. :) I note a point from the excerpt (thank you for that, too. We sometimes need a gentle reminder). :) Have a lovely, lovely day! xx
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