A. J. O'Donovan UK Trailhead                                         Voirey Linger US Trailhead 

Follow the trails and discover great new writers this summer. The free reads include short stories, serial installments, deleted scenes and book excerpts from published and unpublished authors. The Summer Reading Trail will run from May 1 through the end of July. New links will be updated on the first of every month, so you can enjoy a summer of reading.  You are encouraged to explore authors’ websites and blogs, to take a moment to leave them a comment and to bookmark sites and visit often.

The trail opens May 1, 2010. Bookmark this page and come back to enjoy reads on these trails.

* All links open in new browser windows.

                                                                     Letters to the Editor (excerpt)

After work, Eden stopped for a cappuccino at Earth Market. By now, the lack of caffeine had her temples throbbing.  That first sip brought a moan to her lips and a sharp look of disapproval from a pair of doddering old biddies.  On the next aisle, she ran into the old man doing his grocery shopping.  This time, instead of a hand basket, he was propping himself up on a full sized cart laden with groceries. His hair was so fine it floated on the currents of air conditioning inside the store.  His wrinkles rearranged as he greeted her with a slightly lopsided smile.  “Hi, there.” 

“Hi, yourself.”  She returned his smile. “What’re you doing with all that food?  Is there a shortage coming?”

“You’d think so.” He sighed. “I finally broke down and moved in with my youngest nephew. He’s been after me about it since I had a fall this time last year.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.” 

He flashed a boyish grin.  “No way would I tell that to a pretty girl I just met.”  His gaze moved to a spot behind her right shoulder. “Here he comes now.”

Eden saw a tall man approaching them, his long jean-clad strides devouring the length of the aisle. A gallon of milk swung from each hand.  Placing them in the cart, he looked first at her, then at the old man expectantly.  The old man flushed and admitted to not knowing her name. 

“You never asked.” They all laughed as the man thumped his forehead in the V-8 fashion.     

“At least I didn’t forget it, right?” He made the introductions. “Eden, this is Thomas.  World’s most annoying nephew and chef extraordinaire.” 

Eden hefted the large book more securely under her arm and switched her coffee cup to her left hand to accept his shake. It was warm, firm and lasted a heartbeat too long.  His eyes sparkled with interest.  She looked away. 

“That’s a big book there.  What’re you reading?”

“Oh, it’s from work.  I’m taking it home.”

“May I?” 

“Sure.”

“I love reading, but I never seem to have the time.” He scanned the back cover and the inside flaps, while asking her a few questions about her work. An ecru envelope marked with her name in black script slid from the book’s pages. Thomas caught it and handed it to her. 

“Where did this come from? I’ve had that book all day and didn’t notice it.” She pocketed the envelope.

The wide shoulders shrugged as he returned the book. “I just flipped the pages and there it was. I was going to ask you out for coffee, but it seems like you’ll be busy with that monster.”

“Oh, no.  I’ve already read it.  Edited it, actually.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh yeah? Then you’ll have coffee with me?” 

Eden was caught.  When would she ever learn to think before opening her mouth? Thomas seemed like a nice guy, but not what she was looking for. She wanted a mysterious, intense man with bedroom eyes that would put any romance novel hero to shame.  His face was completely open and eager to please.  If she said she wanted pizza instead, he’d probably agree.  At the thought, her empty stomach growled. 

Thomas smiled. “Maybe I should have suggested pizza.”

Was he reading her mind?  Eden must have looked torn because he said, “Don’t worry. I’m a nice guy. I recycle. I’m kind to animals. Plus, we have a chaperone right here.”

The old man dispelled them of any possibility of his supervision. “Oh no, I’m too old to go out for pizza at this time of night. I like my stomach acid to stay in my stomach. You too figure it out. I’m going to get some shortbread cookies.”

Eden’s brain rallied and sent a belated message to her mouth. “I can’t tonight. I spent all weekend finishing a project and I’m still exhausted. Maybe coffee another night?” 

“Sure.”  He gave her a glossy business card with his home and cellular numbers.

                    ***

That night, Eden remembered the envelope. The heavy bond paper felt sturdy in her hands as she read Donnelly’s polished script:

Today, I came across a journal, its pages hidden between soft smoky leather. My intent was to return this treasure to its rightful owner, when “Property of Eden Royce” leapt at me from the inside cover.

Propriety demanded I look no further. A baser instinct tempted me to read it, rationalizing that one page couldn’t hurt.  The secrets of the female mind are too seductive for me to bear, I’m afraid. Settling into a chair, I turn the page.  Just one, I promise…

It has taken me years to decide.  I have been on the cusp many times, but each time, I have retreated.  Back to the safety and security of what I have always known, always done.  Telling myself it is for the best.  Ignoring the voice inside me as it says once again, Coward.  How will you know if you never make the attempt?  You are afraid to be happy. 

That voice.  Telling me the truth all of the time.  Mostly, I listen.  It keeps me out of trouble.  But on this one point, I have always tuned it out.  Or attempt to.  I tell myself that I am a successful woman.  It agrees.  I tell myself that I am competent and intelligent.  Again, it agrees.  I tell myself that I do not need a man in my life.  I am met with a screaming silence.  Finally, it answers:

You do not need just any man in your life.  You need a special one. 

Male presence in my life ended when I was six years old and my parents divorced.  I knew nothing about men, their bodies or their minds.  My mother wasn’t talking.  Maybe she didn’t know what to say. 

I reach the age of dating, receive my first kiss, and have my first few sexual experiences.  I wonder what all of the excitement is about.  I am unimpressed.  Where are the heat and the dizziness and the red haze of passion?  Why are my knees not weak?   Maybe I do not know enough yet.  I retreat into the security of what I know:  research, books, gathering information.    During this quest for knowledge, I read of blindfolds, of silken scarves…

I want to be appalled.

I want to be shocked.

I want to return the books to their shelves.

I do none of the above.

Instead, I purchase the books.  All of them.  I realize that this… subject matter excites me.  I devour every word.  I feel heat everywhere.  I want a man that knows my body better than I know my own.  I want a man that can make me shudder with a word, a gesture.   One that can command my body to soar to heights of pleasure and be there to catch the limp, exhausted, replete remains.  But how is that possible?  It’s fiction.  Just a story.  Isn’t it? 

The voice is there, patient this time.   It doesn’t have to be.  Find him.  He will show you.

I’ve never regretted making a promise. But how can I keep the one I made to you, Eden? I’m so engrossed I am in the thought of your pleasure. Which novels did you read? When? Did your fingers stray as you devoured the pages?  In the midst of these questions, I have one certainty…

You have found him.

J.

Eden, flushed and dizzy, sat down hard on the floor. How could he know? Each thought, each experience detailed as though copied from her non-existent diary. Who was this man? Torn between fear of the unknown and the possibility of desires fulfilled, Eden flipped through the book again. But it held no further secrets.

It’s fiction. Just a story. 

Isn’t it?