Enjoy Good Friday and the second part of our Easter Round Robin!

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Happy Good Friday! We hope you enjoyed the first part of our Easter Round Robin by Jane Lovering (you can read it again HERE). Today, it’s Janet Gover’s turn. Has she helped Grace out of the very awkward situation she was in yesterday? 

Grace had to make a choice.

Should she stay in her hiding place and just hope HE left without seeing her? Then she could slink away and escape. Slink away – that sounded like a beaten dog. It felt like she was doing that far too often these days. That wasn’t an image she liked. Okay – next option.

She could reveal herself. She had every right to be here. In fact, someone had asked her to come and rescue them from their plague of Blatella Germanica. In her head, she saw herself leaping out from behind the fridge like some deranged rubber-clad superhero. It wasn’t a pretty sight. And when accompanied by eye-watering chemical smells … Definitely not the impression she wanted to make. There had to be another alternative.

‘Hello.’

Great. Caught cowering between the fridge and the Aga and surrounded by dead cockroaches. Was that worse than slinking out like a beaten dog? Probably.

There was nothing for it but to stand up. Except … She grunted with pain as her knees protested at the amount of time she’d spent crouched in her hiding place.

So she was now a grunting, rubber-clad, chemical-scented deranged superhero. Could things get any worse?

‘Can I help?’ A hand was extended towards her. She couldn’t help but notice the total lack of a ring on his third finger.

He’d always had beautiful hands. The sort of hands that could belong to a surgeon or a concert pianist. But those long slender fingers weren’t effeminate or delicate. They knew exactly what to do with a power tool … or the body of a girl who was naive and innocent.

It would be a sacrilege to put her chemical stained rubber glove into that beautiful hand – but she did it anyway. It was that or remain crouched behind the Aga until her knees seized permanently and they had to call in the fire brigade to extricate her.

He began to pull her upright with enough strength to compensate for her decidedly shaky knees.

The trousers above the ever-so-slightly mud-spattered Wellingtons were clean, with a razor sharp crease. The belt around the narrow hips looked expensive, with its understated shiny silver buckle. The shirt underneath what was obviously a tailor made jacket was pale pink, crisply ironed, and showed no sign of either mud or sweat. Who wore a pale pink shirt in a farmyard? And even more perplexing, how did anyone come out of a farmyard that clean?

The answer was simple. Someone who was perfect. Perfect in every way.

She raised her eyes to look at his face. Still drop-down-dead gorgeous. His dark hair was cut shorter than she remembered, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved that morning. The hint of stubble was terribly fashionable and suited him, damn it. His long straight nose was twitching slightly at the wave of cockroach killing fumes that had preceded her. His eyes were on her feet, slowly working up her rubber-clad form. At last they reached her face.

Grace braced herself. Maybe he wouldn’t recognise her. She was a very different woman to the girl she had once been. The girl he had known. Maybe she would escape after all.

A small frown creased his perfectly smooth forehead. He reached forward and carefully removed her baseball cap.

Waves of unruly, unwashed, unbrushed blonde hair cascaded down to her shoulders like the tangled string from an old mop.

His lovely dark brown eyes widened.

‘Oh my God! Grace?’

Who could this gorgeous stranger from Grace’s past be? Perhaps you’ll find out tomorrow ;)  

Janet Gover’s new book, The Wild One, is available to buy NOW on all the eBook platforms. You can follow Janet on Twitter here

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Happy Easter from Choc Lit (and welcome to the first part of our Round Robin)!

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Hello and welcome to the first part of our Easter Round Robin! Every day over the Easter break we will be posting an extract of a story written by a Choc Lit author, with the first part being today and the last part on Easter Monday. Make sure you come back to the blog daily to see what happens next. 

Kicking us off today is Jane Lovering with a very seasonal extract … which also involves cockroaches!  

Grace had never liked Spring. There was something about all the birds tweeting in the hedges, advertising their availability for a mate, that made her think about those internet dating sites she’d signed up to and totally failed to get anywhere with. She wondered if the sparrows ever had to suffer the birdie-equivalent of men who took you to dinner twice and then expected to move in, or vanished, never to be heard from again. Watching a particularly persistent blackbird, she had to conclude that, yes, they probably did.

Her friends were all terribly encouraging, of course.  “Give it another go,” they all said, from their cosy, settled places on the sofas next to their comfortable other halves. “There’s someone for everyone out there.” Grace pulled a wry face every time she heard that.  Maybe, then, she wasn’t “everyone”. Or maybe men didn’t find a woman who ran a pest-extermination business and spent most of her working days in waist-high waders carrying metal traps and enough lethal pharmaceuticals to eradicate a small country, to be possible dating material?

Grace started her van and began the long drive out to her latest call; a farm twenty miles away, which had apparently had an influx of cockroaches.

The farmer wasn’t in. This wasn’t completely unheard of, Grace had been to many call-outs in rural areas where she’d been left to get on with whatever the job in hand required without any input at all from anyone else, and no sign of another human being, apart from occasional glimpses of someone in overalls doing something determined with a grain silo on the other side of a yard.  So today was no different.  She pulled on her protective clothing, pushed open the unlocked farmhouse door, and began her usual assessment of the pest situation on her hands and knees around the kitchen.  She’d just got herself wedged into a promising corner between an Aga and a double-sized fridge, where several slower-moving than average cockroaches had become subjected to her Spring-fuelled wrath, when a door opened in another corner of the room and she heard several men come in.

‘I dunno, Mac,’ one was saying as booted feet walked past her.  ‘I’m not convinced.’

‘I’ve got to do something.’ Another voice, this one belonging to the full-length Wellingtons, lightly splattered with mud, that were standing just in front of Grace’s corner.  When she raised her eyes from the floor, she could see that these boots led to beige trousers and then on up to a jacket.  She couldn’t see higher up, but there was something about the voice that was horribly familiar.

Grace drew herself further back into her corner, barricading herself almost subconsciously from the speaker, with two bags of cockroach bait.  Surely it couldn’t be.  No.

‘The farm isn’t making any money.’  The voice spoke again, and this time … Grace felt herself going red and hot … there couldn’t be any doubt.  It was him.  HIM.  And here she was, crouched in a corner wearing neck to ankle rubber, and gloves that wouldn’t have been out of place on an episode of a vet programme, her blonde hair under a baseball cap and her hands full of chemicals. The world could, at least, have been kind and allowed her to meet HIM again when she was wearing a designer dress, Louboutins and knock ‘em dead perfume.

But no. The world, it appeared, was going to force Grace to confront the lost love of her life, whilst looking like an advert for kinky sex.

How is Grace going to manoeuvre herself out from this tight spot? Find out tomorrow when it will be Janet Gover taking over for the second part of our Round Robin :)  

Jane’s latest book, How I Wonder What You Are, is available in Kindle, Kobo, Google Play & iBook format. It will be published in paperback on May 7th. Click HERE for buying options.

You can follow Jane on Twitter HERE

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Henri asks – does spring put a spring in your step?

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Forsythia

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Fake nettle

I do my best thinking away from the computer, and our ramshackle garden is my favourite place to sit, weather permitting. All I require is an A4 lined notepad and a handful of pre-sharpened pencils. Once I get stuck in to the writing, I don’t even stop to sharpen each pencil as it goes blunt but just grab the next one. The pause in the flow of words then becomes minimal, like drawing breath.

Disregarding the wailing ambulances, the banging from never-ending home improvements epidemic in our neighbourhood, the rumbling aeroplanes overhead, I hear only the birds and the droning bumblebees. The bees are particularly fond of the mahonia and this fake nettle with its delicate magenta flowers.

Soon the camellia, jasmine, buddleia, lilac, and the roses will flower, and the self-seeding nasturtiums and the lavender will make their annual come-back. So will the dandelions which invade the lawn and drive the guinea pigs and the Other Half potty (for different reasons…). We’ve laid down lily, gladioli, and dahlia bulbs, and will transfer fragrant herbs from their pots indoors to the brick-bordered herb bed.

In the meantime I’ve got this glorious forsythia to add a splash of riotous colour to the garden, and a spring to my step. I’m hoping for a high writerly yield wearing my pencils down to mere stumps.