Today we’re featuring an excerpt from one of our books. I thought I’d give you a taster of one of my short stories ‘A Marriage Made in Heaven’, which is part of my collection of 18 short stories, Life. Life was originally just going to be about birth, death and marriage, but then I decided to add stories featuring a few other life events too, especially ones that tend to break the well-oiled chain of our day-to-day lives…
Worldwide Amazon link: http://bookShow.me/B01F0WG2BS
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Excerpt from ‘A Marriage Made in Heaven’ by Stevie Turner. Copyright Stevie Turner 2016.
“I hear you’re looking for a quick way to pay off your debts.”
I look up as a stocky young guy with clean, dark, waist-length hair puts his lunch tray down opposite me and takes a seat. I don’t know him but have seen him around the campus, usually carrying a guitar in a case on his back.
“I might be; as long as it’s legal and I get to keep my clothes on.”
I nibble on my sandwich as nonchalantly as I can, enjoying his throaty chuckle at my remark.
“Well, it’ll definitely be legal, but it’s up to you about the clothes.”
Intrigued, I study his face for more clues. There are two laughing blue eyes trying to hide behind copious amounts of dark facial fuzz, which I swiftly decide he’d look better without.
“Out with it then; I’ve a lecture starting in twenty minutes.”
“Sure.” He nods. “It’s like this; I’m here on a student visa which runs out in October, but it’ll be better for my musical career if I can stay in the UK.” He takes a bite of his burger and scans my face intently. “So……. you agree to marry me, and I put fifteen thousand smackeroos in your bank account.”
“Bloody hell!” I nearly choke on my food. “You move right along, don’t you?”
“Don’t give me an answer now; think about it.” He waggles his finger at me. “I’m not saying all this just to get into your pants; I really need to stay here. Things are happening for me and my band.”
“Jeez.” I look at him aghast. “Married? I don’t even know your name!”
“Ha; it’s Gerrie Hermann. So you’re interested then? What’s your name, by the way?”
His accent is appealing, but I have a terrible mental image of taking him up North to meet Mum and Dad, the straightest, poorest, but proudest parents in all the land.
“Sophie Woods, but I can’t see it working.” I shake my head.
“Sure it will. You don’t have to love me or anything, ‘cos I’m basically an arsehole.” His eyes twinkle. “We get married; I go my way, and you go yours. Only now you’re fifteen thousand pounds richer.”
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