The Book That Wrote Itself

Hiya! Nat here. Today is the day my short story, Just For Tonight hits the virtual shelves for all you beauties to read if you so choose. It’s got a bit of humour in it, so if you fancy a couple of giggles, then this may well be the book for you!

It’s easy to write something when you have the basics of a plot handed to you on a plate, which is what happened here. Who could resist writing about a one-night stand, where the owner of a dating agency—who is possibly magical and all-knowing—fixes your character up with the partner of their dreams? The premise grabbed me by hand and pulled me along for the ride, and Just For Tonight was born.

I remember writing it in one day, letting the words come as they wanted, no interference from me. It works better for me when I write that way. If I think too much, the words get tangled up, and I get frustrated. Which leads to procrastination, the mother of all evils for a writer. Facebook suddenly appeals, the lure of messing about with my online friends too much of a draw to ignore…

But that day the book wrote itself, and now this little baby is unleashed on the world! Hope you enjoy it!

Blurb:

After numerous failed relationships, Dahlia Singleton joins 1NightStand, a dating agency that promises to match her with the perfect lover for one night. After a month with no match, Dahlia begins to think she’ll never find love—until the owner of the agency, Madame Evangeline, telephones to say Dahlia’s date is waiting at the Castillo Hotel.

Excited and nervous, Dahlia meets Connor, a sexy-as-hell man with a British accent that melts her knees. And that isn’t all that’s melting! Dahlia has the ride of her life, realizing the distinct possibility that she may just have found her soul mate.

Excerpt:

If her stomach rolled one more time, Dahlia would vomit. She stood inside the Castillo Hotel, having walked through the double glass doors on shaky legs clad in black thigh-high stockings. What had she been thinking? Her little black dress was littler than she’d ever worn, purchased on a whim when on a lonely shopping spree last month, and her fitted black leather jacket made her feel like a biker chick gone wrong. She was used to jeans, baggy T-shirts, and her black hair stuffed into a ponytail. Tonight, she’d showered, shaved, and spent as much time as she dared on her hair, coiling it into an up-do held in place by a black sparkly clip. Who was she kidding?

No one but my damn self.

With the jitters sending her half insane, she took a deep breath and wandered through the foyer, wondering whether this mystery man would be in the casino section or the bar. Evangeline had failed to give her specific details, and Dahlia floundered, trying to maintain a calm, poised exterior while her insides raged.

Crazy, that’s what you are. Crazy, coming out without knowing the background on this guy. He could be a murderer. A pervert. Anything! You’re dreaming. Got to be. You dreamed you got the call, and here you are, zipped to another part of the dream where you’re in a situation you don’t like, with an outcome that will make you wake up screaming.

She hiked in a deep breath and opted for the bar, walking toward it as though she’d been born a catwalk model. So long as she concealed what she really felt, all should go well. Her date might not be an ax murderer after all, and she’d get home without the requisite knife wounds or out-of-the-way burial in the Las Vegas desert.

Pushing the door to the bar open, she sauntered inside. The place was packed. Hell, he could be one of any number of men. Some stood at the bar, and others sat alone at small round tables. A few couples occupied booths at the back, and Dahlia eyed them with envy. If she was honest, she didn’t want a one-night stand. No, she wanted what they had. Clasped hands on tabletops and special looks only the couples themselves knew the meaning of. Shared secrets and lovemaking that transcended the actual sex act. One-night stands wouldn’t give her that.

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