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    Beyond Our Love
    Beyond Our Love
    Beyond Our Love
    Ebook132 pages1 hour

    Beyond Our Love

    By Gary Weston

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    About this ebook

    A gentle romantic story with a paranormal twist. Karen meets writer George Randolph, and gets more than her book signed. She falls in love. But being second fiddle to George's writing as he totally immerses himself in his creative world, she wonders if their relationship can survive. Then the greatest story of George's career takes them into the dark realms of the paranormal.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGary Weston
    Release dateFeb 22, 2015
    ISBN9781507096130
    Beyond Our Love
    Author

    Gary Weston

    Hello again.I've added Drifta's Quest 2 on this site. Unlikely to be a Drifta's Quest 3 but never say never. I am already working on a new book to fit in between other creative projects. As a mere lad of 68 I have a good few years to tell my stories so I hope people will keep enjoying them.

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      Book preview

      Beyond Our Love - Gary Weston

      Chapter 1

      Boskerville's Books4You store had a steady line of readers, mostly thirty something women, eager to meet George Randolph in the flesh. They all carried a copy of his book, Lover From Hell for him to sign. It had been his photo on the back cover as much as his words that had stirred their imaginations and George didn't disappoint. His long dark brown hair was well groomed, and he was wearing a new dark blue suit with a black shirt that complimented his looks perfectly. He made full use of his roguish smile and held each woman's gaze as if she were the only one that mattered in the world at that moment.

      'To Julia Pritchard,' said a tall blonde, leaning forward with her hands on the table, her ample cleavage on display. 'But you can call me Jewels, if you want.'

      Doing well to keep his gaze at eye level, George wrote, to Jewels. A gem amongst my fans, and then his name with a flourish.

      'Thank you for reading my book, Jewels. Make sure you look out for my next book. Out in a few months time.'

      Jewels pouted, holding the book to her breasts. 'I can hardy wait.'

      'Neither can I,' said the woman next in line. 'Are you going to be there all day?'

      Jewels spun around on her high heels and glared at the short, plump, middle-aged woman in the baggy sweater and track pants. 'Mind your own damn business.'

      The woman refused to be intimidated by the blonde towering above her. 'Move it, Barbie.'

      Jewels turned and flashed a smouldering look at George, and with a waddle that had her backside gyrating hypnotically, walked out the store.

      'Hi,' said George, using the same Only woman in the world expression for the mousey haired housewife as he'd had for the slim, leggy blonde. 'Thank you so much for coming to see me.'

      'Hi. My name is Pauline. Pauline Hoggett.' She leaned forward on the desk, mimicking the blonde. 'But you can call me anything you want,' she said, breathily.

      George leaned back in the chair and roared. 'Nice one, Pauline. So. You enjoyed the book?'

      'It was good. Not great, but quite good.'

      'Interesting. I like honesty. What in your opinion would have made it better for you?'

      'Humour. The best paranormal romances have humour in them. Your story was too...dry.'

      'Dry. Hmm. So a little more humour, and I have a fan?'

      'Absolutely.'

      'Right. My next book is a little lighter, but I'll give your advice some thought.'

      'You will? But I'm just a cleaning lady. I don't know anything about writing.'

      'It doesn't matter how you earn your living, Pauline. You are a very important part of the writing process. Without you, I can't be a writer. I genuinely respect your opinion.'

      Pauline blushed like a twelve year old schoolgirl. George knew he now had a fan for life. He wrote, 'To Pauline. I'll try to make you smile.'

      Pauline couldn't speak, but put the book in her shopping bag and hurried out the store. It was Karen Barlow's turn next.

      'Well, you certainly made her day,' she said.

      'And she mine. She bought my book.'

      'That's not all you care about. I could tell.'

      George agreed. 'I truly respect my readers. If I'm to make a success of this, I need to listen to them, so they keep on reading.'

      'I applaud that. Well. It looks like I'm the last one.'

      'So it does. It's been a long day. May I sign your copy?'

      Karen handed it to him. 'Sorry it's a bit messy. I dropped it in the bath.'

      George laughed. 'It makes me smile to think of ladies taking George Randolph into beds and baths with them. At least a little part of me. But you won't get much for this on ebay when I'm rich and famous.' From the small pile of new books, he took one. 'What would you like me to write in it?'

      'But you can't give books away like that.'

      'You can have this on one condition. You let me buy you lunch somewhere. I'm starved.'

      'You're offering to buy me lunch? How do you know I'm not married?'

      George shrugged. 'No rings. That and wishful thinking on my part. Do we have a deal?'

      'Of course. There's a little place I go to, just around the corner.'

      He filled a cardboard box with the books from the table, leaving one out. 'I'll come back for these later. Lead on, Karen.'

      Chapter 2

      Karen led him around the corner to Bill's Bistro. It was a busy little place, doing a brisk trade. They were lucky to grab a table for two in a far corner. A young waitress came over and they ordered chicken salad and a glass of house white wine each.

      'Nice place. The food smells good.'

      'I like it,' said Karen. 'Do you often treat your readers to lunch?'

      He smiled, little crows feet of life's experience wrinkling at the corners of his dark eyes. 'I wish I was that successful. With women and selling books.'

      'Well, as far as I can tell, your books sell well, and to be honest, I couldn't see you having much trouble getting a date.'

      He sighed. He had his hands clasped and she could see the tell-tale white mark where a wedding ring had been. 'You'd be surprised.'

      'Tell me. Do you take your ring off just for the book signings?'

      He looked at his hand. 'Ah. Not exactly. I took it off for the last time a few weeks ago. I guess I don't spend enough time in the sun.'

      'Separated or divorced? Sorry. None of my business.'

      He shrugged. 'I've nothing to hide. We, Sharon and I, were married for five years. She got tired of living on fresh air and dreams. I can't say I blame her. She supported me as I tried to make it as a writer. I guess I had one rejection letter too many, and that was it.'

      'But Cold Hands Of Death sold well.'

      'It did and it does, or at least it's starting to. But it came just a few months too late to save our relationship. The good thing about it is I was so broke, there was nothing to divide up after the divorce. She's happy with a well off business man, somewhere.'

      'Do you miss her? Damn what's wrong with me? I have no right to ask you anything about your personal life.'

      'Saved by the chicken,' he said with a grin. The meal was served to them and the busy young waitress scurried away. 'I really don't mind. There's not much to say about it. Yes, I do miss her, but it's over and I don't dwell on it. What it did do however, was free up my time to write. Boy I was like a machine. Words just poured out of me. I suppose being a horror story, I was able to vent out any bitterness while I wrote. Sort of therapeutic.'

      Karen sipped her wine. 'No children?'

      'No. Me not her. Firing blanks. Do you have children?'

      'I had a miscarriage when I was twenty three. I was living with a guy. We were both devastated, and things were never the same afterwards. My mother has given up fixing me up with potential husbands.'

      'At least you have a mother to care. I never knew my parents. I lived in an orphanage until I was sixteen.'

      'Good grief. Aren't we a sorry pair? We have lunch together, and all we talk about is divorce, miscarriages, and you being an orphan.'

      'Yeah. Look. I have to get back to the store. There's an afternoon session.' He picked up the book and wrote in it, and handed it to her. 'Don't open it until you get home.'

      'Why?'

      'Promise.'

      'Okay.'

      He dropped a few bills on the table, winked and walked out.

      Chapter 3

      'You're late, Karen.'

      'Sorry, Mr. Frobisher. I'll get straight to work.'

      'I hope you intend to make up the lost time by staying over?'

      'I'm only a few minutes late, Mr Frobisher. But yes. If you insist, I'll work over.'

      'I do.'

      She settled in her place at the back of the open plan realtor's office, turned on her

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