Haley, thank you so much for hosting me today.
It’s that time of year, where everyone is rushing around trying to get ready for Christmas.
In England, because we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, most of us are little later to put up decorations. Personally, in our house, we have always waited until the day our children break up from school to even begin. We have a very old fashioned tradition of making mince pies together that evening, (honestly this is not meat, it’s a lovely concoction of raisins, sultana’s cherry’s, nuts) indulging in a tiny tot of sherry or port and that weekend we decorate the house.
My husband wrestles in a real tree and our daughters decorate it. Every year, one new glass bauble is bought and hangs glittering among the rest, each one with its own small story, where it was bought, the reason, who by. Some of them have stories of survival, together with the scars incurred during their scrapes and often superglue hidden to the best of my husband’s abilities because I’m so reluctant to throw away these glittery memories.
These small disasters are what make up the laughter of life.
“Laura, please don’t sit on the … *crack* aahhh, never mind.”
“Don’t step on the… *crunch* – don’t worry, daddy will fix it.”
“Be careful as you take the fine glass out of … *snap* oh well, it was getting old.”
And then, we bought the Dalmatian.
And so, the inspiration for writing Flight of Her Life came from our family, specifically my daughter. She named the characters and flung in a few examples of life’s little idiosyncrasies.
I hope during this busy period, you all have a little indulgence time for yourself and get to read Flight of Her Life, my new Christmas romantic comedy.
“We need a hotel.”
“I do not need a hotel.”
“Bailey, we need a hotel. If we don’t get one now, they’re all going to be fully booked and you and I are going to have to sleep on these chairs tonight. I promise you, they are not going to open the gate any time soon.”
She closed her eyes and grit her teeth; she was going to be in such shit with Phillip and the senators when they heard about this.
“Okay. I need to go to the bathroom. Then we’ll arrange a hotel.”
“Nope. We need one now. Have you seen how deep the snow is? We have to get a cab, before the road’s totally impassable, and you can’t go far in those…” He nodded at her high heels. “…and without a coat.”
“You hold a cab. I’ll go to the bathroom. I’ll be really quick.”
“I don’t trust you.” He was already pulling her along after him, his long legs far outstretching her ability to walk sedately. Trotting as fast as she could, she skidded a couple of times on the smooth tiled surface of the airport thoroughfare until he turned and wrapped his arm around her waist and virtually carried her.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m being practical. I can’t wait all day for your little legs to catch up.”
Bailey gasped at the insult, but as she opened her mouth to blast him, he pushed her through a doorway into a restroom.
Virtually running, she charged into a cubicle. She wouldn’t put it past him to give her two minutes and storm in there after her. Ripping her damaged tights off, she balled them up and threw them into the bin. She whipped her panties down, and perched with relief, but as she moved her left hand, her giant diamond swung to the underside of her finger and snagged on the elastic at the side of her panties. She wrenched her hand away and heaved in a surprised breath as the elastic pinged back on her leg. She leaped up and her panty elastic parted company with itself and her panties slid down her right leg.
“Oh, God. No. No, no, no, no, no, no.”
Her fingers shook, and she glanced anxiously at the cubicle door, almost expecting Sebastian to burst through and ask what the hell she had wrecked now. He’d be right of course, but it was beside the point. She shook her panties off her legs, deftly flicked them off the end of her foot and caught them efficiently in her hand. She smoothed her skirt, put the toilet seat down and sat on it. She studied the thin elastic, and rubbed at the sharp sting on her leg. She tried to focus her blurred vision as she tied the elastic in a neat little knot and gave it a firm tug to make sure it didn’t come undone.
Satisfied, she slipped them back on. She gave herself a quick check over in the bathroom mirror, and apart from her wild hair, she noted as she gave a quick sigh of relief, nothing else appeared out of place.
Sebastian leaned against the opposite wall as she walked out of the restroom. His arms were crossed over his chest, his attention firmly focused on her. She felt a warm rush while his eyes scanned the length and breadth of her body as though checking her out for damage. She pursed her lips and raised a superior eyebrow, so when his eyes tracked up to her face, he could see she was not impressed with his assumption that something had gone awry. He merely gave her a broad grin and pushed away from the wall, offering her his arm.
Bailey rolled her eyes, stepped forward and gave a shocked squeak as the elastic on her hip pinged open and her panties dropped straight to her ankles, almost tripping her up in the process. She slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widened in horror as she peered down at her feet, then back up at Sebastian.
His warm, blue eyes crinkled at the edges as he leaned over, wrapped his arms over his stomach and laughed and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks, and his skin flushed a deep red against his burnished tan.
“Oh God, Bailey. Oh God.” Still laughing, he dropped to his knees and reached out to pick up her panties. The temptation to kick him while he was down was so strong she had to persuade herself to stand still, body completely frozen, face stoic. If she bent over to rip them out of his hands, the likelihood was, someone was going to get an eyeful of her naked butt.
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Previous Books: Atlantic Divide Series
Loving Lydia – Book 1
Bad Girl Bill – Book 2
Finding Zoe – Book 3