Greetings from a bright, sunny, blue-skied (and totally freezing) England.
An eagle eyed fan noticed that some of the links to free ficlets/missing scenes on the Cambridge Fellows page of my website were broken. They should now be all up to date.
Five stars for Wild Bells at Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words.
Charlie Cochrane is one of our top m/m historical ficthttps://www.amazon.com/dp/B01NA785IDion authors. Her stories center us and her characters in their era and cultures effortlessly, plunging us into the niceties of teas, obligation,and respectability.
Who’d want to be a school governor? No pay, little thanks, plenty of red tape. And yet they’d all volunteered to be on this course. Altruistic. Or gluttons for punishment. And on Valentine’s Day, just to rub things in.
“So just work with the person next to you.”
The tutor’s words brought Jamie back to the present with a bump. Work with the person next to you to do what?
“I hope you know the answers because I’m stuck.” The bloke next to Jamie — Alex, according to the hand written sticker on his shirt — grinned and brandished a worksheet.
“I do, but only because I’ve done this bit before, on another course.” Jamie returned the smile.
“You write the answers in, and I’ll read them and try to look intelligent.” Alex’s eyes twinkled.
Why weren’t there any blokes like this on the Cattlebridge Primary Governing Body, with brown eyes lively enough to make the interminable meetings worth sitting through?
“Deal. They’ll give us an answer sheet later, anyway.” Jamie scribbled down some key words, just so it wasn’t obvious that his mind wasn’t on the questions.
“I don’t think they’ll let me have one, punishment for sneaking in late.” Alex smiled again.
Jamie filled in some more answers, trying hard not to write “Do not flirt” on the page.
What point would there be in flirting, anyway? Alex was bound to be married, with two kids in school and one more to come. Typical parent governor. The handsome ones always were.
Deadly Dames will be at Portsmouth Book Fest trying to sound intelligent and amusing on the subject of ‘Nemesis with knitting needles’. Saturday 18th February,
Tickets available now! Do come and insult—sorry, consult—us.
And finally, spring must be coming – I have snowdrops. (Not that I ever planted them; these are a present from the birdies.)