Please welcome my special guest today, Author Sherry Gloag:
“Did you hear that! Did you?”
Gina’s fists crashed down on my desk as she screeched to a halt in front of me. One glance at her face told me I’d get little to no writing done until I heard her out.
“No. What are who saying?”
“The people at the shop!” Her hand sliced through the air. “You know, where you have arranged your book signing!” Her glare implied only a fool would not know that.
“So, what are they saying?” I prompted when she failed to follow through.
“They say I am a fantasy! A fantasy! Are they mad? How can I be a fantasy when I am real?” She spun away, scattering my paperwork across the floor as she went. I swallowed my sigh and waited. Gina rarely erupted, but when she did, Mount St Helens would have a hard time competing with her. “And what about Ben?” she spat. “Does that mean he is a figment of my imagination?”
Well, no, I thought, you are both figments of my imagination, but just in time I saw the wisdom of keeping my mouth shut.
“On the contrary,” I soothed, “you became real the moment you turned up on the pages on my story.”
Somewhat mollified, Gina dropped onto the loveseat near the window. “And that makes me real?”
“You exist, but perhaps in another dimension.”
“What are you saying?” Her chin thrust forward and her eyes flashed a warning. “I am some sort of ghost? That everyone in The Brat is a ghost?”
“That’s an unusual way of describing yourselves, but I suppose…” I weighed up my options with care, “…it is one way of putting it. After all, the readers of your story can’t physically touch you. They relate with you emotionally…”
“But there must be more to it than that?”
“Well, yes and no. It depends upon how closely the reader connects with you. If they become so absorbed in the story, they forget their surroundings then you become as real to them as if you are a physical friend.”
“And when they finish the book what then?”
“Again, it depends on the impact you have made upon your reader.” Geese, where was this conversation going?
“Someone else said they couldn’t stop thinking about the characters,” she paused, then smiled, “that’s us!”
“Yes that’s you,” I agreed.
Gina’s smile widened. “So we continue to be their friends even when they finish The Brat?”
“It would be nice to think so,” I agreed cautiously. “Did you mention this to Ben?”
I watched as Gina’s face pinkened when she nodded.
“And what did he say?”
“That I was silly to get so upset. He said no one’s life is problem-free, and together we faced ours and overcame them, and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”
“Well,” I said. “I tend to agree with Ben.”
For a moment her gaze held mine. She stood, nodded, and headed for the door. With her hand on the knob she glanced back at me, and smiled. “You are right. Both of you, you are right.”
BLURB: Gina Williams is a 35-year-old famous children’s author, who also writes detective mysteries under the name of George Williamson.
She was robbed of her childhood when aged ten by the late mother of the hero, Ben Kouvaris.
When he was ten-years-old his mother sent him to her ex Theo Kouvaris, multi-millionaire, who lives in Greece. When he returns to her funeral he is haunted by the beautiful woman who organised the funeral.
When his father orders him to marry he thinks of Gina Williams.
They have to overcome the horrors of the past and forgive their parents for their betrayals. Will their past destroy their future?
The Brat – Excerpt: Pg 198
“You’re no better than your mother. I was a child when your mother ordered my life, but I’m a grown woman now and won’t be ordered around by you or anyone else. So don’t stand there sanctimoniously telling me it is your right to control my life for the next ten months. And when they end, what then? You drop your control, just like that? I doubt it. There’s not a Kouvaris on this planet that isn’t a control freak.”
She drew in a deep breath, glared at him when she came to a brief stop in front of him. “You’ll keep tabs on me, tell me what to do and when…”
“Why would I do that?” Cold as steel, Ben’s voice cut across her tirade, but it didn’t stop her.
“Because you’ll tell me it will impact on your reputation, or the company profile, or the value of the shares. How would I know? You’ll have a reason and expect me to abide by your ruling.” She spun away from him and back again. “Oh, I nearly forgot. As your ex-wife, someone may use me to get to you. Wasn’t that how you put it when we arrived in Greece?”
Hands fisted on her hips, her hair plastered against her fiery cheeks, she watched the colour climb up his neck and into his face. Until she heard the words hang in the air, she hadn’t known they were there. But she knew they’d hit their target head on.