Passion After Dark Read online

  Passion After

  Dark

  Book One in the Passion Series.

  By J.A Melville

  © Copyright December 2013

  About the Author.

  From my teenage years, all I wanted to do was become a writer one day. Even now as an adult woman with a partner and three children who are not so little anymore, I've always lived with my head in the clouds, a dreamer, often amusing myself with my own imagination.

  It might have taken me awhile to finally live my dream, but I did it, my first effort to try and join the many talented writers out there who have kept me entertained with their wonderful stories over the years.

  I live in a sleepy country town in Tasmania, Australia with my partner and three children plus our 6 cats, dog, sheep and cattle.

  I've had to overcome many emotional obstacles along the way to get to this point and attempting to self publish a book does tend to make a person feel like they've thrown themselves in at the deep end of the pool some what, but here's hoping some of you actually like what I write and save me from drowning in the deep end of the pool as I probably forgot to mention, I can't swim.

  J. A Melville.

  Acknowledgements.

  I have been fortunate to have had many people who have been encouraging when it came to my desire to write. Many know what had held me back for so long and yet you still all pushed me and persuaded me to do what I wanted to do so badly and as I publish my fourth book now, I thank you all. You know who you are.

  To Lorraine who pushed me and encouraged me from day one, telling me over and over that I could do this, to Danielle, Mary, Savanna, Debbie, Georgie, Dawn, Kathi, Rachael and all the ladies from Controlled who have been not only supportive, but who provided me with endless entertainment, laughs and countless distractions, I thank you.

  Then of course, I want to thank my partner Roger and our three children, Bianca, Jesse and Reilly who have had to suffer through hastily constructed meals, a less than tidy home, my vague behaviour and me seemingly always having my head buried in my laptop. I'm sure they have found me frustrating on more than one occasion and I've no doubt they got sick of talking to the top of my head.

  An extra special big thank you to my daughter Bianca who designed the cover for this book since she knows how useless her Mother is when it comes to anything computer related.

  I can't write this without thanking all my English teachers from back in my school days many moons ago who always told me I should consider a career in writing when I grew up. Well, it might have taken me awhile, but I finally did as you all suggested, thank you.

  All of these people have been there throughout the many many months I wrote and never let me give up. To you all, I say a heart felt THANK YOU.

  © Copyright J. A Melville. November 2013.

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book can be

  reproduced unless permission is given by the author

  for quotes to be used for reviews etc.

  This book is fiction. The characters are fiction. Any

  resemblance to persons living or dead are purely

  coincidental.

  This book is the work of the writer's imagination.

  Cover image designed for the author by Bianca E

  Eberle.

  Chapters.

  Chapter 1………………

  Chapter 2………………

  Chapter 3……………...

  Chapter 4………………

  Chapter 5………………

  Chapter 6………………

  Chapter 7………………

  Chapter 8………………

  Chapter 9………………

  Chapter 10…………….

  Chapter 11…………….

  Chapter 12………......

  Chapter 13…………….

  Chapter 14…………….

  Chapter 15…………….

  Chapter 16…………….

  Chapter 17…………….

  Chapter 18…………….

  Chapter 19…………….

  Chapter 20…………….

  Chapter 21…………….

  Chapter 22……………

  Chapter 23……………

  Chapter 24……………

  Chapter 25……………

  Chapter 26……………

  Epilogue……………….

  Chapter One.

  "Ahhhh, fuck my life." I groaned, dropping my head in my hands as I sat before my blank laptop, the empty screen mocking me. I peered through my fingers at my Doberman Beau who watched me with his solemn brown eyes and Salem my black cat sat on the table his eyes settling on me with that look of pity in his yellow gaze. Ok, so maybe it wasn't pity, more that smirk that he so often directs my way.

  "What is wrong with me, I'm on a deadline." I moaned at my animal audience, but they said nothing, just continued to watch me as I pulled my head out of my hands, my long brown curls tumbling over my forehead, covering my eyes. I shoved them back off my face impatiently and went back to studying my laptop, wondering why my brain had picked now to freeze on me, why a bad assed version of writer's block was robbing me of any coherent thought about the next chapter of my book.

  I was only a few chapters into the third and final book in my 'Kiss Me' series of erotic novels I was writing, so still a long way to go. The first two had been wildly successful for me and my editor was putting the thumb screws on me now to hurry up and get the final one written. There were TV interviews, magazine interviews being demanded of me and I just wanted to go and bury my head in the sand. I was not a people person, dealing with the public scared the hell out of me, I wasn't interested in the fame, hell, I wouldn't even put my face on my books that way I wasn't going to have to deal with people maybe recognising me. Unfortunately my editor Frank Metcalf had other ideas. He wanted to splash me around like a street corner whore and I just wasn't interested.

  Deciding that I was wasting my time sitting staring at a blank computer I dragged myself off my seat and walked through to the kitchen, opening the fridge door to stick my head inside and study the fairly dismal selection inside. "Note to self, do some bloody shopping woman." I chastised myself.

  I pulled out a bag of cold meat and opened it, giving the contents a tentative sniff before staggering backwards, when the smell hit me. "Well, we won't be having sandwiches today then, will we?" I said to Salem who was still watching me like he considered I might not be of sound mind. “Food poisoning anyone?” I asked waving the bag of nasty smelling meat around. Salem’s response was to turn his back on me like I wasn’t worthy of any more of his time and Beau collapsed on the floor with a deep sigh. After studying them for a moment, I threw the bag at the bin and it hit the flip top lid and luckily for me, fell inside. With a whoop for my successful throw, I went back to have another look in the fridge and after a few moments studying the nearly empty shelves, I decided a bowl of cereal was going to have to do.

  I tipped out some of my favourite cereal into a bowl and poured the milk in. It kind of hung there for a moment before thickly and with the consistency of cottage cheese, plopped into the bowl. "Damn it to hell!'' I swore at my ruined cereal covered with foul smelling sour milk and threw the contents into the bin on top of the rotten cold meat. "Good start." I muttered.

  I gave Salem a pat, explaining to him that I was going to have to go out and do some shopping. "Well, it's that or starve." I told him. Of course that was one of the downsides of writing, getting so involved that eating, shopping and, I sniffed my arm pit. "Showering." Tended to get pushed from my mind until my body finally screamed for sustenance or as was the case now, my brain was some vast empty void in my head denying me t
he mental capacity to write, probably brought on as an act of defiance on its part for me not feeding it.

  Suddenly my stomach wanted food and the pungent odour in the air told me I needed to have a shower or maybe that was all the rank food I’d thrown in the bin. Of course feeding my body which in turn would feed my brain which if I was lucky would lead to me writing that allusive next chapter meant that in this case, I was going to have to go out and buy food. "Preferably something that won't put me in hospital with food poisoning," I mumbled under my breath.

  I headed upstairs to my bedroom, passing by my room mate's bedroom and shook my head when I glanced in and saw all the clothes scattered around the room. It was that bad it was almost impossible to tell there was actually a carpet under that lot.

  Frank did question why I bothered to stay in the home that I'd inherited from my parents and not live the lifestyle my success afforded me, but although I had a bank balance that had more zeros at the end of it than I'd ever imagined I'd see, I loved my old home. It was comfortable, big and held so many memories that I had no desire to sell it and buy the kind of home Frank expected me to have, one of those large, modern, sterile looking things that were favoured by the rich and famous.

  This old home meant everything to me. I’d grown up in it and lived with my parents happily right up until they had both been killed when a truck driver who had been on the road too long fell asleep at the wheel, swerved onto the wrong side of the road and hit my parents’ car, killing then instantly.

  I couldn’t sell this home, it was my family home, my parents’ had lived here and no matter how many times I’d tried to explain that to Frank, he still tried to tell me I should live in a home that reflected my success.

  He couldn't understand why I chose to share my space too when I sure didn't need the rent money, but the truth was I hated being alone. I enjoyed the company although Cassandra, my best friend and who had been my rock after my parents died was away at work during the day and often out partying with friends on Friday and Saturday nights. Sometimes she would nag me to come out with her, which occasionally I agreed to against my better judgement. I don't know why I even bothered. It was always the same thing. I'd sit there drinking in the dark, night club with the music so loud the only way to communicate was with a whole assortment of hand gestures or screaming into one another's ears and that often went wrong, men would think I was being overly friendly or mistaken my hand gesture for something it so wasn't and suddenly I'd be fighting off the octopus from hell. Cassie would pick up some attractive looking man and disappear with him or she'd bring him back to our place and I'd get to spend the night listening to the sounds of their passion through the bedroom wall.

  "Well at least someone is getting something I suppose." I said to myself. As for me, my vagina was like the last unchartered territory. Hell, it was probably like a desert, all dried up from no man being near it in more time than I cared to remember or maybe it was starting to look like a scene from the Indiana Jones series, cobwebs so thick it would take a hatchet just about to get past them. Seriously, the way I was going, I'd need to buy myself a man. The sad reality was my only sex life was the one I wrote for the characters in my books or getting off occasionally with the assistance of my battery operated boyfriend who didn’t give a damn if I’d brushed my teeth or showered and it never needed feeding or its ego stroked.

  Shaking my head to clear it of the pointless nonsense going through it right now, I pulled out a pair of panties from my drawer and a lacy bra, my one indulgence, nice underwear. After all, my Mother used to always say, to have on clean, nice underwear in case you ever get hit by a bus, so I did. Still, it hadn't happened yet, no bus, no man either to appreciate what I had on under my clothes and armed with my pretty lingerie, I went to have a shower.

  *********

  Once I emerged from my shower, wet hair wrapped in a towel and dressed only in my lacy bra and panties, I went to my walk in robe and pulled a baby blue sundress off its hanger and slipped it on. It was one of my favourites, heart shaped neck line, sleeveless, fitted to my waist and flaring out to the skirt which fell to mid thigh. I stepped into a pair of matching blue flats and then dried my hair off as well as I could, before tackling the fun job of trying to brush all the tangles out of it.

  Cassie kept telling me my hair style was out of date and that I should get some modern cut, get rid of the length as it was a nightmare to maintain, but I loved my long hair which fell down my back in a riot of curls to where the curve of my buttocks began. Ok, it was a battle looking after it, but I’d been growing it out for years and there was no way in hell I was cutting it off, despite all the work to wash and brush it.

  I applied some light make up, just enough to cover the dark circles under my eyes from little sleep and grabbed my cream handbag, checked my purse was inside and I was ready to go and do some shopping so I could eat something that wasn’t looking like a science experiment, growing in my fridge.

  I locked up the house and climbed into my red BMW, my only real indulgence since the success of my books, loving the new car smell, the plush leather interior and more gadgets than the cockpit of a jumbo jet. Ok, maybe not that many gadgets, but certainly a massive step up from my old hatchback I’d had prior to the BMW.

  I drove the short distance to the shopping centre and once I’d parked, I armed myself with a trolley and reluctantly began stocking up on food to fill the fridge and pantry. I wandered up and down aisles shopping with all the enthusiasm of someone about to face the firing squad. I hated shopping, I guess that’s why the house was so bare and I was Old Mother Hubbard. Cassie bought her own food, but she was always on some strange diet or eating nothing but fruit, or nothing but certain vegetables or something so it was just easier for us to buy our own food.

  Once the trolley was almost at the point of overflowing, I struggled with it towards the check out, slowing down briefly when I passed the magazine section where there were also a selection of books available. My books were on the shelves and a couple of ladies were reading the backs of them, giggling to one another. I slowed down as I passed them shamelessly eavesdropping and heard one lady ask the other if they were any good. Unable to help myself, I leaned over the ladies’ shoulders. “Hey, those books are really good.” I said. “I’ve read them and I highly recommend them.”

  The ladies turned to me. “Really?” One asked. “So you’ve read them?” She waved Kiss Me Quick in my face.

  “Yes I have.” I told her. “You really should read them.” And with that, I smiled and continued wrestling with my trolley to the row of checkouts.

  While I waited in line, fighting boredom and fatigue as there’s nothing quite like standing in a line up in a supermarket waiting to get served to make a person suddenly aware of how little sleep they’ve had, I spotted the two ladies walk past with my books in their trolleys. “Well that was an easy sale.” I mumbled to myself.

  Finally I got through the checkout and staggered out to my car, loaded up the boot and headed for home. Once I got back I started dragging plastic bags of groceries out of the boot, dumping them all in the kitchen where Beau and Salem started sniffing through them, probably checking to see if there was anything for them amongst them all.

  I spent the next half hour unpacking everything with the eyes of Beau and Salem watching my every move. I’d just finished and put out some ham on a plate for Salem and tossed Beau a bone when my mobile phone rang. When I glanced down and saw my editor’s name on the screen, I groaned. “Damn, not now.” I moaned, picking it up and reluctantly answering it.

  “Frank, how are you?” I greeted him and moved the phone away from my ear a little as his loud booming voice threatened to deafen me.

  “It’s not a question of how am I my dear, it’s a question of how are you, how’s that book coming along?” He asked.

  “Well….. to be honest, it’s not Frank, I’m feeling a little foggy in the brain.” I confessed.

  “Well, clear that fog woman, I
need you to hurry up and finish the book, we need it on the shelves before people forget who you are, before they forget about Abby and Ryan’s story. You need to keep your readers horny Allegra.” He continued yelling down the phone in his typical excitable tone.

  I switched my phone to speaker and put it down carefully on the kitchen bench since Frank always seemed to know when I’d put him on speaker and braced myself for the lecture. Frank only called my Allegra when I was in the shit, so I poured myself a glass of water and sat down on a bar stool at the breakfast bar and waited for the tirade to begin.

  I listened to him rant and rave at me for a good five minutes or so, impressed at how that man could talk without ever seeming to draw breath. When he finally stopped, I told him I’d get back to writing as quickly as possible and once I had the next two chapters written I’d personally drop into his offices and let him read over them. With him temporarily appeased I hung up and breathed a sigh of relief.

  My stomach gave a loud protest in the quiet house and I suddenly remembered I hadn’t eaten. Well I had tried, but it’s hard to eat when there’s no food in the house or what there was had become something that was no longer edible. At least this time when I stuck my head in the fridge, things were looking much more promising.

  I pulled out what I needed to make myself a couple of sandwiches and I’d just sat down to eat them when Cassie came racing into the kitchen, dropping her handbag on the bench and flopping down at the table that sat at one end of the large kitchen.

  “Thank god it’s Friday.” She said, kicking off her high heeled shoes and wiggling her toes. “Damned feet are killing me.” She moaned. I looked down at the ridiculously impractical shoes lying on the floor.

  “Well if you’re going to walk around in shoes that high, don’t complain when your feet start protesting and what are you doing home at this time?” I asked her glancing at the clock. She was home a good two hours earlier than she’d normally be.