Fridays were the worst days, Laura decided. No, wait. Saturdays were the worst. Not counting Thursdays, obviously. She sighed, and looked at her watch. Only
Christian looked across garden furniture towards Norman in his little café apron and smirked. So less manly than his own hardware apron! All was going
I got a warning from the Blog Police today, reminding me that every writer’s website needs a bunch of writing tips on it. Well, speaking
Captain Stellar had been sober for fifty days. No. Captain Stellar wasn’t around any more. It was Vincent who had been sober for fifty days.
Nalda scared the crap out of Fiona. Always had. She was tall, way taller and more solid than Fiona, and she never looked you quite
Hot autumn was turning to freezing winter when Wellsey returned to the Pavilion. He stopped just before the automatic doors. He knew exactly where the
Here’s the draft of my newsletter, Claudia. Once again I must formally protest the fact that this has to be passed by the Commissar for
It was Laura Cho’s first day at the Handy Pavilion, and her trainee badge was pinned to a neatly ironed apron over her polo shirt.
“Are you sure about this?” Wellsey asked. “Could you be any more clichéd?” Belinda said. “‘Are you sure about this?’” she added in a high-pitched
Gwen watched as Ms Shan dropped a pencil near the information counter, and Norman rushed to pick it up. He smiled winningly as he handed