THE BILLIONAIRE BARITONE

Amethyst loves music and enjoys hip-hop dancing to spice up her dull and dreary life. But one evening on her way home from dance class, she hears a voice that drew her away from her route.

Caught in the act of eavesdropping, her life is about to change in a way she has never foreseen.

David didn't quite know what to do with the beautiful trespasser, but when he learned that she was injured, taking care of her was the only solution.

Little did he suspect that she was about to take care of his lonely heart in return.

CHAPTER 6

Jeff entered the waiting room holding a cup of coffee and a box.

“Have you asked her yet?”

David shook his head as he took the food, before uncapping the coffee. “After the operation, there will be enough time. Did Tim get the financial report?”

Jeff sighed and pulled out his mobile phone. He scrolled to his email. “Yeah. His initial assessment was right. Our little trespasser earns a minimum wage and spends most of it on rent and food.”

He glanced up at his brother. “She barely eats judging by the numbers. The company that employs her provides their employees with a basic lunch every day, but I don't think it is intended to be their main meal of the day.”

David listened as he sipped his coffee. The meal was forgotten on the seat next to him.

“What are you saying?”

Jeff shrugged. “I think we could offer her a job.”

David turned his head. “She hasn't even finished high school.”

“I know that.”

He sighed. “I just thought that we could help her that's all. She seems like a nice person and not star struck by your reputation. Maybe if she was given a better opportunity, she could finish her formal education.”

David frowned. “I hate that damn label.”

Jeff slapped his shoulder. “So do I. Do you know how many women want to cuddle up to me just so they can meet you?”

David winced. “Sorry about that, I didn't know.”

Jeff shrugged. “Yeah, well. Hey, I have an idea!”

“I don't like it when you get that expression on your face. What the hell have you cooked up now?”

Jeff grinned. “You could marry her.”

“What?! What have you been putting in your coffee?”

The younger Morecroft stopped smiling. “Think about it. You are not the playboy bachelor the tabloids make you out to be. You want a family and a home life like Mom and Dad, and the women that you usually meet definitely have no such plans.”

David didn't argue. Jeff was a concert pianist and worked just as hard as he did to make a success of his professional life. But that success came at a price. Jeff might be the easygoing one, but deep down David knew his brother also wanted what their parents had.

Their parents had made their life work for them. Mom had been a teacher until she married a successful businessman and became a society wife. But she did it for them, not because of the prestige. When Dad passed away, she withdrew from her public obligations and focused on the literacy foundation that had been her passion.

“Why don't you marry her?” he asked instead.

“Because she doesn't look at me the way she looks at you, brother. She might not be drooling over your suit like the Barbie doll of last night, but I think she likes you.”

David didn't want to think about the woman who practically propositioned him the previous night. It happened all the time and to be honest, he was sick of it.

He attended the event with Jeff because it supported a music school for underprivileged children and the Morecroft Foundation was a major donor. He almost smiled when he recalled the children's faces when they got to play silly duets with a world famous pianist.

Jeff had a point as much as he hated to admit it.

He wondered if Amethyst liked children.

“You are thinking about it, aren't you?”

David shrugged as the doctor interrupted their conversation.

“I had to put pins into the broken fingers since her bone density is low. If she follows the instructions I left with the nurse, she should regain full use of her hand without problems.”

“Thanks, Doug.”

The doctor smiled. “Anytime.”

“How is Clarisse doing in the new school?”

Doug's smile widened. “Thanks to you and Jeff, my daughter is blooming. Trust me, I still have to hear how her 'uncles saved her from that dreadful establishment'.”

The men burst out laughing.

“Sounds like she found the classics.”

Doug shook his head. “You have no idea. Last week it was Dickens. I shudder to think who she will be quoting next week.”

They shook hands before the surgeon lifted a ringing phone from his pocket. “Hi hon,” he answered as he left the room.

A nurse came to tell them that they could see Amethyst.

Follow the story on Wattpad

Linzé's Mischief: 17 July 2016

I often forget how much I love a good story. Being too immersed in everyday stuff, and then spending my free time writing, my reading time is often limited and during Camp NaNoWriMo, it is nonexistent.

Except this weekend. Aside from writing these words to you today, I have not written a single word since Friday evening.

Of course, there were some laundry and things to do, but I took my iPad everywhere with me when I left the house. Even took it to bed to read, while my husband was asleep next to me. Unlike my Kindle, I can read the iPad in the dark, so as not to disturb Francois' sleep. No need for both of us to lose sleep over a book.

I really liked the stories I read (I am busy reading an anthology, entitled Alphas Love Curves) and still have to finish the last one.

The good story I was referring to, is The Longest Ride by Nicholas Sparks. Another thing I don't usually do: watch TV. Which I did this afternoon, to watch the movie version of this story.

Being a writer also makes me watch a movie with different eyes. When that started happening I cannot say for sure, but it is as if I am more aware - more aware of the elements of good story telling: characters, conflict, tension, etc.

But it also makes me appreciate a good story more too. I wasn't wearing my glasses at the start of the movie so I had to stand fairly close to the TV so I could see what was going on. I think I stood there for about an hour before I rushed off to get my glasses to sit and watch the rest of it. My back had been hurting the whole day so standing wasn't a chore. But standing still for such a long time wasn't helping.

But I couldn't leave. I had to know what was going to happen next. Only when my back hurt too much, did I find my glasses.

And that is what a good story should be, don't you think? Captivating. It should hold the attention of the viewer, or reader, to the extent that only physical pain or discomfort forced you to do something else.

While The Longest Ride did not involve car chases or high action drama, the story was human, bull riding scenes notwithstanding. It felt real. I cried, dammit!

And yet, when it was over it was as if I had gained something too. Something beautiful had existed in my busy life for an hour and a half. Maybe I had a moment of transformation. Maybe I came away thinking that there is still a place for something akin to hope and joy in this ugly, violent and greedy world of ours.

Maybe I am being wistful or foolish. Then again, why not?

While I was ahead of my word count target on my Camp NaNoWriMo project, that advantage has shrunk quite a bit. So back to the computer for a few hundred words tonight.

May your week ahead be filled with joy and beauty everywhere you look.

Linzé

International Author's Day - Blog Hop

What is it about the mystery of a book that appeals to so many of us?

I am of an age now that I cannot remember not reading, or wanting to read. Books have always been a huge part of my life. Only when we moved into the house we live in now (almost 16 years come October) did we have enough space to have an actual library. Even when we viewed the house initially this odd little room screamed library to me.

Fitted with shelves from floor to ceiling on three walls, it is something special to me. The window has no coverings, making it an ideal spot to sit and read in natural light. I would often put two chairs facing each other when I am alone at home - one chair for my butt, the other for my feet. The room is too small to leave the chairs permanently like that.

Find books here!

I also like to draw or paint in the library because of the light in the first place, but it just feels like the best place to be creative among all these wonderful words.

But it is primarily a place to sit and read. These days I cannot devour enough cozy mysteries to satisfy my craving for them. I still read the odd romance, and science fiction novel, but the mystery sleuth always gets my attention first.

I love the characters in these novels. Ordinary people who do things that I like to do upon occasion: knit, grow their own fruit (I have a vegetable garden), run their own business, be part of a writers group and so on. I love the way their stories grow with the series.

Their friends and relationships, and the support they give each other in good and bad times. Their good and bad choices and how things don't always work out the way they hoped. Cozy mystery novels are primarily a character based story, with the odd murder thrown in to keep the reader on the edge of their seat. Who dunnit? Some authors like to drop tiny crumbs throughout the story, others like to play their cards closer to their chests, until the end.

I like to see if I can spot the clues. I like the 'realness' of the characters and the settings. Even though I have never been to a lighthouse library, or walked on a beach with a French poodle, or waded through an apple orchard in picking season, the authors made it happen for me too.

Their sleuths had to rely on logic, some well thought out questions and a few moments of gut instinct to find the killer, usually to save a friend or a close acquaintance from being locked for a murder they didn't commit.

Some part of the stories are predictable - the murderer will be found, and the sleuth will always carry on, but that is also what I love about them. Happy endings do not happen so often in real life, so the relaxing escape into a world where it does exist is exactly the reason I can spend hours with my feet up, coffee mug close and struggling through the pages with the sleuth to solve yet another murder.

The end.

In celebration of International Authors' Day you can find all my books discounted (no coupon required) until the end of the month - grab them all, since I am not going to do it again for a long time.

Find books here!

THE BILLIONAIRE BARITONE

Amethyst loves music and enjoys hip-hop dancing to spice up her dull and dreary life. But one evening on her way home from dance class, she hears a voice that drew her away from her route.

Caught in the act of eavesdropping, her life is about to change in a way she has never foreseen.

David didn't quite know what to do with the beautiful trespasser, but when he learned that she was injured, taking care of her was the only solution.

Little did he suspect that she was about to take care of his lonely heart in return.

CHAPTER 5

I woke up groggy and hungry. My first thought was that I was going to be late for work when my body reminded me that I was in a hospital.

I lifted my bandaged hand and peeked at my fingertips. They were swollen and all kinds of horrible colours. I put it down and tried to reach the bell. It must have fallen off the bed.

It took some effort, and not without pain, to sit upright. Before I could swing my legs over, a warm hand fell on my shoulder.

I must have been too sleepy because he didn't scare me.

“David,” I said. I could feel the blush rising in my face. “I mean, Mr. Morecroft. Good morning.”

I felt like an idiot and shut my mouth. What was he doing here?

Instead of saying anything, he bent down and lifted the bell where it hung from its cable. I watched him press the button. A nurse came inside.

Embarrassed, I waved her closer. “I need to go,” I whispered, fervently hoping that he wasn't listening.

She nodded and helped me to stand. My ankle was strapped making it less painful to walk. After the fuss I had made last night about using a bedpan, she simply pushed her shoulder underneath mine, and helped me to the toilet.

Back in the room, having hobbled holding onto the rail, my audience was still there.

Once the nurse had helped me get back into bed, and rearranged the covers, David came closer.

“The surgeon will be here within the hour. We have contacted your employer and gave them the news. Your boss, a Mr. Henry, said that you have enough sick leave available so your job is not in jeopardy.”

I avoided looking at him as I thanked him. Mr. Henry hated his job and as a result made his employees' lives miserable if things were not to his liking. My being in the hospital would not be to his liking. I would need to look for another job when I was released.

I didn't mention that to David. I am grateful that the Morecrofts was doing this for me, but I didn't want more of their charity.

“Is there someone we can call for you. A friend? Husband?”

“No, it's okay.”

I know I sounded dismissive, but there was truly no one to call. I wasn't close to anyone I knew, and I preferred it that way.

Soon after a different nurse came to prepare me for the operation.

Follow the story from the beginning on Wattpad

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 Ruby Iyer must save her city, save her friend, save her very soul from being destroyed and only sexy cop gone rogue Vik Roy can help her. Except Vik has a secret; one that will turn her world upside down. Can she still trust him? Criminals run the streets of Bombay. Jam-packed with the worst degenerates. The city is a shell of the pride and joy it used to be. Ruby knows something must be done, but it isn't until her best friend is kidnapped that she knows that she and she alone must save city, save her best friend, save her soul from total destruction. Armed only with Vik, a sexy cop-turned-rogue they are about to embark on a road they may never return from.

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Finalist, 2016 Next Generation Indie Book Awards
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Excerpt

His tongue flicks out to touch his lips. Can he still taste blood?

His eyes flick to my lips, down to my throat, my breasts, lower, lower still. I'm close enough to see the golden flecks in his eyes shine. Smell that hard man smell of his which tugs at me. Heat from him spools towards me hitting me squarely in my chest, pulling at my stomach, churning my guts and I shudder.

His eyes widen, and as if unable to help himself, he lowers his mouth brushing my lips once, twice, thrice. Teasing me, nibbling at me, caressing my lips till I feel the heat inside twist and glow, till the lighting tree on my back sizzles, sparking fire.

I moan and reaching up capture his mouth with mine, thrusting my tongue against his; and feel the shock run through him.

He's still just for a second, then he's leaning into me, on me till I am surrounded by him, his touch, his skin, that cinnamon smell of his, which is so Vik. Heat from his body pushes at me, begging to be let in, holding me captive and I feel a trickle of sweat running down between my breasts. Breath coming out in short bursts, I strain against him, trying to free my shackled arms, but he doesn't let go. He also doesn't stop there.

His mouth lowers to my throat, pushing aside the bathrobe till he bares the curve of my shoulder, then bites me, lightly.

My heart slams against my rib cage at that, my eyes flutter shut and I bite my lips to stop myself from crying out. At the pain trembling down to my belly.

He kisses the skin, licking his tongue over the exact same spot and this time I shiver, but he's already trailing his lips down to my breasts. His hand grips the flare of my lips and this time, I moan aloud as his fingers splay out over my belly.

And it's as if the sound gets through to him, for he's suddenly leaning back.

My eyes fly open and I look up at his face, want to trace his lips, run my fingers through his hair and once again I arch my back, push against him and this time he lets me go.

Even as I watch a shutter comes down over his eyes and they lose that bright glow I'd seen there just a second ago.

I know then, he's going to leave and walk away and I can't let him go.

Not now, not when I can tell he's feeling something for me.

When my insides are churning as if this is the only thing that matters. When the emotions overwhelming me wipe out all that has happened before this, making me feel clean. When I don't care who he is, or where he comes from or what his real relation is to Dr B. When something inside me senses that deep at his core, where it matters, he is honest at least as far as whatever 'this' between us is concerned.

I want him.

And I want to make him want me.

Make him show me how much he wants me.

About Laxmi Hariharan

I am fascinated by the unseen in the real world and in relationships. I write fast-paced urban fantasy romances, with a paranormal twist. My stories feature intense love-interests, kickass heroines, moody heroes and surprise plot lines. I enjoy nothing better than getting under the skin of my characters and especially when they surprise me. Married to a filmmaker and fellow author, I live in London and am the proud owner of a mononym twitter handle @laxmi. Receive a free starter library of my books when you sign up to my newsletter http://bit.ly/NewsletterLH

Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Website * Newsletter 

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When purchased separately, these books cost over $50! But they are yours today for less than $1.

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Linzé's Mischief: 10 July 2016

This week my journal is taking on a slightly different flavour. Instead of posting only what I remember of the week, I think to add a 'per day' entry for the week. Since I got the idea on Friday, the entries will start then for this week's post.

Friday, 8 July - I took a day's leave to do some stuff, writing included. It is almost midday, and while the stuff (buying dog food, refuelling my car, etc.) has been ticked off my to do list, I have not yet written a word. Then again with those things taken care of, there is now time to do some writing the rest of the day.

Fridays are our time to shop for groceries; I didn't do any of that this morning, aside from buying myself a veggie lunch for today. So I can focus on the writing I still have to do - yeah, the excuses I do come up with!

While having breakfast (more like brunch actually) this morning, I had a thought about the restaurant reviews that I sometimes write (for another website). From now on I will limit my reviews to coffee shops (being places writers are more likely to frequent) and post these reviews on my blog instead. I won't get paid for it, but I do like to support good businesses in my area. And coffee shops are often small businesses too, that could always do with some support.

I signed up to do a promo post for a group of bestselling romance authors on Wednesday, 13 July, so keep an eye out for that if you are a romance lover, like me.

And now I am really going to go and work on my latest manuscript, Open the Door to Murder.

Saturday, 9 July - You would think that we would sleep in over the weekend since it's winter and we get up at 5am during the week. Nope, being married to a photographer who takes his hobby very seriously, leaves no time for sleeping.

Francois left home before sunrise to go take photographs of a tiny bird in Hartbeespoort, about 40 minutes drive to the north of where we live. He returned home, without pictures of this bird, but with three aloe plants. Make no mistake, I love aloes, their medicinal properties are well-known (I use several aloe products) but where am I going to plant those things? They require sunlight all day, no an easy feat in a garden filled with trees. I think I found a spot, but it will require some construction work to accommodate the plants.

Gardening is not my strongest point, although I am thinking of restarting my vegetable garden using aquaponics. Will post a picture of the aloes once I got them settled.

Sunday, 10 July - I spent most of the morning contemplating how I was going to finish my editing of Waiting for Adrian (I have barely started), launch Negotiating the Maze (presently being proofread for printing and publication by a professional team of people), format and publish the Journey anthology, launch Journey, finish The Last Gryphon trilogy and write a story for a sweet romance anthology with another group of authors.

Oh, did I mention that Waiting for Adrian has to be published before Journey? Yeah, Galen's Hope (part of Journey) partially overlaps Waiting for Adrian in terms of the timeline. I sure do like to make things complicated for myself.

I came to the conclusion that I couldn't. The first story of the Gryphon trilogy will be published in Journey - so that one is sorted. The second story needs editing, and the third is 90% done on the first draft. The only way I could potentially manage all these projects would be to rewrite the second story in the trilogy for the sweet romance anthology - that way I do two projects at the same time. Publication of The Last Gryphon trilogy in one volume can then wait until after the sweet romance anthology.

I keep thinking I need a project plan to manage all these things.

And then there is Camp NaNoWriMo and my first murder mystery novel. Good thing I am a few thousand words ahead of schedule, although I am sure that advantage is not going last very long.

Project planning time coming right up!

In the words of Li-Ana Baker (from Open the Door to Murder): may you have a healthy and harmonious life this coming week.

Until next time!

THE BILLIONAIRE BARITONE

Amethyst loves music and enjoys hip-hop dancing to spice up her dull and dreary life. But one evening on her way home from dance class, she hears a voice that drew her away from her route.

Caught in the act of eavesdropping, her life is about to change in a way she has never foreseen.

David didn't quite know what to do with the beautiful trespasser, but when he learned that she was injured, taking care of her was the only solution.
Little did he suspect that she was about to take care of his lonely heart in return.

CHAPTER 4

Three Morecrofts stood in the waiting room of the small wing where Amethyst's bed was. They heard voices in the room as the nursing staff helped Amethyst get ready for bed.

David's phone rang. Seeing who the caller was, he nodded to Jeff to close the door and put the caller on speaker.

“Tim, what did you find out?”

“Amethyst Calder is twenty-four years old and has no living relatives. Her parents died in a car accident when she was seventeen. She dropped out of school to support herself and works as a goods receipt clerk at a warehouse in the city.

She had no ties to any newspaper or tabloid. I had a quick look at her home, and I have to say that she is lucky to have a roof over her head. Her landlord was a friend of her parents and charges her almost nothing to stay in a converted servant's quarters on the property.

I am still waiting for the report on her financial status, but I would guess that she doesn't earn enough to pay tax over and above the unemployment contribution required by law.”

“What was she doing at the house?” David asked.

There was a whisper of clothing as the private investigator shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe you should ask her yourself.”

“Thanks, Tim. Let me know when you have the financial report.”

“Will do.”

After ringing off, Phyllis smiled at her sons. “See, she is a harmless young woman. I like her.”

Jeff returned her smile, but David remained skeptical. She might not be a reporter after a story, but that didn't mean she couldn't sell her story to a newspaper for a lot of money and the chance to have her name linked to his. Or Jeff's.

“We'll see,” he said instead.

Read from the beginning HERE