Tuesday Teasers: Nolwynn Ardennes

Welcome to our December 1st edition of Tuesday Teaser. Today we have Nolwynn Ardennes with us to share a little about herself and her latest story set to be released shortly. Be sure to check out the contest in the post and enter for your chance to win an advance copy of Storms in a Shot Glass!

Let's first find out a little more about our featured aurthor

Nolwynn Ardennes - The promise of fulfilment. When you are young, modern, and have the world at your feet, what is missing?

Love? Excitement? That special someone?

Where will you find these? In a parallel world filled with otherwordly creatures? In another plane of reality? In another age and time? Or in the very contemporary setting you live in?

Author Nolwynn Ardennes takes you on this quest for Mr. or Ms. Right.

Amidst the quirks and foibles of society, love can be found in the most unexpected and unusual places.

Nolwynn Ardennes is the other pen name of author Aasiyah Qamar. Married with a son and a stepson, she resides on the island of Mauritius where she tries her best to masquerade as a homemaker and domestic goddess. While Aasiyah sets her stories on this beautiful island, Nolwynn touches base with another place that is very close to her heart: London and England in general.

Nolwynn loves it when readers get in touch, so feel free to contact her at the following addy aasiyah.nolwynn@gmail.com

Check out her website for some more about her and insider glimpses at what happened behind the scenes of the books http://www.aasiyah-nolwynn.webs.com/

If you want to see the real madness of Nolwynn's life, come check her blog. She updates it every Friday and amidst the craziness there is usually a pic of the Hottie of the Week *wink*
Of course, don't forget to leave a comment!

You can find her author's group on Facebook too.

Behind the scenes of Storms in a Shot Glass

Ever wondered how the rich and famous lived their lives? You know, those really beautiful and sophisticated and rich people that grace the covers of every tabloids, whom papparazzi chase all the time, whose pics sell at a fortune on the magazine market, and whom we simply cannot get enough of?

This notion gave me the idea to move this novel into a different direction from a traditional 'baby on board' story. And lo and behold, the heroine and hero don't know each other when the book starts. Through strange twists of coincidence or as some would call it, Fate, Jane Smithers and Michael Rinaldi meet in a situation that almost looks like all the stars were aligned - especially for rabid tabloid reporters! Come on - it's not every day the most eligible bachelor in the whole of England (after the royal princes of course!) is seen with a new woman on his arm. And by Gods, it 'looks' serious between them. What more do tabloids need? Not much, I'm afraid!

Come check out the hectic and eventful journey of Jane and Michael (and Jane's bump too) when things go bump (pun intended!) in the broad daylight! Storms in a Shot Glass, releasing January 8, 2010, with Eirelander Publishing.

Next release by Nolwynn Ardennes - Walking on the Edge, a suspense/mystery thriller where love comes as the redemption of two lost souls... Coming out June 4, 2010 with Eirelander Publishing.

To keep up-to-date stop by Nolwynn's website and be sure to click here to check out the book trailer for Walking on the Edge!

Now we have a super special treat for everyone! You, our lovely Dark Diva Review readers, are being granted access to the ENTIRE first chapter of Nolwynn Ardennes' January release -- Storms in a Shot Glass! Sit back and enjoy!

Chapter One

“You’re pregnant.”

“What?”

If Jane Smithers hadn’t been sitting, she was sure her knees would’ve buckled under her. Her mouth opened then closed immediately, at a loss for words. Surprise was the first of a barrage of emotions that swept in following the declaration. “You’re kidding me, right?”

From the serious frown on her gynecologist’s face, Jane just knew she was facing the truth.

“But that can’t be,” she protested.

“Why not?” Dr. Gayle Larkin asked.

“Because I haven’t been with anyone recently.” The admission tore through her lips with a rush, and as much as it pained her to say it, the humiliation of confessing she lived the life of an old maid in a chastity belt and starched knickers at barely twenty-nine was outweighed by the thought of a life growing inside her womb.

“So it’s the Holy Ghost. You must’ve met him in the past three months ’coz you certainly weren’t pregnant when I gave you that contraceptive shot back in December.”

The irony barely rattled Jane though, still grappling with the shock. “Oh my God.”

“That’s it, girl. Bring Him in now that you got yourself up the duff.”

“Oh, Gayle, stop sounding like a granny, will you?” She brushed her doctor and friend’s comment with a large sweep of her hand. The two of them had first met on the university campus, in a mentorship program established by the alumnae society. From the moment their friendship had taken off, Gayle had used the excuse she was five years older than Jane to boss her around and keep her in line.

When Gayle had opened her surgery a few years later, it was only natural for Jane to become one of her patients. A single girl in modern London needed a good gynecologist, more so when she was on the prowl and looking for a man and not a baby. Neither had been in Jane’s aspirations however, especially because she had no time to go scout for that elusive creature called the perfect male prospect.

Yet, now here she was, pregnant. Her palms came up and covered her face. Her breath labored, she pressed the back of her head against the headrest and felt the thundering in her veins, her heart beating fast and the blood rushing at her temples.

“Jane? Sweets, you okay?”

She let her hands drop to her lap and opened her eyes. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She paused. “What am I gonna do?”

Gayle’s dark eyes narrowed. “I don’t know yet how far along you are, but I usually don’t recommend a termination.”

Horror filled Jane and she grimaced. “What makes you think I’ll want an abortion?”

“I’ve seen stranger things, luv. This news comes as a shock, and you may not be thinking properly.”

“Either way, I’m not getting an abortion.”

“So you’re keeping the baby.”

It was strange to hear it stated like this. She couldn’t conceive of her condition as anything more than an abstract notion right now.

“It’s a good thing I asked for a check on your hormone levels before I renewed your injection,” Gayle continued. “Judging by the concentration of HcG in your blood, I’d say you’re at least a few weeks along.” She paused then, and Jane felt her friend’s sharp gaze focused directly on her, making her squirm in her seat. “Which brings us to the million pound question. Who’s the father?”
“I told you, I haven’t been with anyone recently.”

“Tsk-tsk. The Holy Ghost theory doesn’t cut it with me.”

Jane rolled her eyes and gave a small laugh. “I wasn’t implying that. Seriously, I haven’t slept with anyone in the past weeks.”

“Unless you don’t remember... Jane, that’s not the case, right?”

Serious concern was heavy in her doctor’s tone, subduing Jane even more. Good grief, was she set on a roller coaster ride of emotions. “Of course not,” she rushed to say. “I clearly would remember if...”

The memory of a passionate encounter she had forced herself to forget suddenly glided into her mind. High-pitched giggles. Feverish hands tearing clothes away. The brush of heat from the radiator sliding over her naked skin, and the slightly roughened texture of the Turkish rug under her back while a man kissed her and took her in the hallway of her flat. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

“What?” Gayle asked, her voice a hollow sound penetrating the fog in her mind from far away.

Jane felt her eyes grow wide and she forced her gaze to settle on the woman sitting across from her on the other side of the wide desk. “January first, half-past three in the morning. I had sex with my neighbor.”

Gayle huffed. “I bet it was unprotected, and you didn’t think of getting yourself checked afterwards.”

“I did,” she protested. “I rushed to the community centre and had myself checked for AIDS and STDs.”

“Not for a pregnancy though.”

“Come on, I thought I was covered. Why’d you think I had the damn injection in the first place?”

“Because Lord knows how it happens that you’re anal about everything else but cannot stick to the schedule when taking the pill. And, may I remind you that no contraceptive measure is one hundred percent infallible? Only abstinence will do that trick for you.”

This she knew. She was also carrying her neighbor’s baby. Jane remained silent as she mulled over the revelation. Pregnant by a man who wouldn’t have looked twice at her if he hadn’t been drunk, and a man she’d never have sex with if she’d been sober. There was a very good reason for her stand – he was engaged.

On that fateful night, she’d met him at a trendy club in Chelsea, just two roads down from their block of flats in the posh neighborhood. They both drank too much, and he ended up confiding that his fiancée had broken up with him.

Jane had sympathized with his plight – they were alone on a night when they should be with someone. They’d laughed and flirted over tequila shots. Soon after the New Year had kicked in, he had reached for her and licked the salt off her hand. They downed their shots and kissed over a wedge of lime. Before she knew it, they were out of the club and back at the building, snogging like teenagers on their first night out. They’d barely made it into her flat before succumbing to lust.

“What’s his name?”

“Huh?” Jane blinked. “Oh, him. Jeremy. Jeremy Wickham.”

Gayle rolled her eyes. “Wickham, you say? No wonder you’re in this predicament. Wait a second. He’s the one you told me is engaged to that rich Indian heiress, isn’t he?”

Jane nodded.

“Then you’ve got yourself into a mighty pickle, girl.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” She slapped her palm on the armrest, frustration getting the better of her.

“Sweets, take it easy, okay? No point crying over spilt milk. You don’t need to tell him if you don’t want to, but it would help to have his medical history.”

“That’s out of the question.”

“It’s you and you alone then?”

Jane took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Gayle watched her for long seconds. “Okay. I’ll need to run some more tests, but I’ll put you on prenatal vitamins and folic acid right away. The date you gave me is your conception date, so this means you’re at least two months along. An ultrasound will help shed more light on the situation.”

Gayle paused to answer the phone when it rang, leaving Jane to absorb the information she’d just been given. The words merged in a jumble in her head and a dull ache picked up behind her eyes.

“Jane, I have an emergency. This is what we’ll do. Today is Thursday, and I’m slotting you for an ultrasound on Monday. By then, we should have the results back. I’ll tell one of the nurses to get some blood samples from you before you leave.” She pushed a piece of paper across the desk. “Make sure you take these twice a day. I’ll ask the nurses to give you a bundle of information on pregnancy and the benefits you are entitled to as an expecting mother.” Gayle stood, removed her white lab coat and picked up her jacket from the hanger near the door. She paused there, looking in Jane’s direction. “Don’t worry, luv. You’ll be fine. I’ll see you Monday then. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Jane replied to Gayle’s departing figure.

She sat in the silence of the big office, closing her eyes. Calm was all she wanted, but she had a feeling her life had just changed irrevocably and she was powerless to have any say in it. Jane sagged in her seat, exhaustion claiming her.

She had been tired lately and on some days, she woke up with nausea that simply made her stomach roll. She couldn’t throw up unless she stuck her fingers down her throat. Never one to do that, for she knew just how easily she’d be tempted to throw up the little she even ate, she had borne the sick feeling, ascribing it to her hectic work schedule, late nights and coffee diet.

Coffee! Had she drunk too much and put the baby at risk? What would she do if it were the case? And how had it escaped her notice when she didn’t get her usually mild periods that it could be the sign of something else? Again, she’d ascribed this lack of her monthlies to her hectic work pace, thinking stress and burnout were taking their toll on her.

“Miss Smithers?”

Jane’s eyes flew open. A young nurse stood beside her, her smile warm and friendly. Jane smiled back.

“The doctor said you needed some blood samples taken. Will you please come to the examination room?”

Jane followed her. The sight of the dark blood filling the clear tube made her queasy, but she managed to keep herself in check. Twenty minutes later, she was leaving the private practice, stuffing her bag with a load of prospectus and other information sheets while catching a cab to head to work.

Throughout the trip, she hung onto the door handle for dear life as the driver confused the busy roads of central London with a Formula One racetrack. Young fellow, she mused, her gaze running over his shaved head and pierced ear, a diamond stud glinting bright against his dark skin. Another race champion wannabe, she thought with a chuckle. What was it with men and their need for speed? But, she reckoned, as long as he dropped her off at the Vista Standard Bank in The City in one fully-functioning piece, he could burn the asphalt all he wanted.

One and a half pieces, a little voice sing-sang, and Jane’s spirits dampened.

How was she going to deal with this? A baby hadn’t been in her plans for the future, let alone now. When one knew her erratic course record with men – she picked out the jerks and only the jerks picked her – it wasn’t surprising to know she didn’t consider a semi-detached house on the outskirts of Central London with a Ford in the garage, a dog and a handful of kids in the handkerchief-sized garden as her dream life destination. No. She’d need a husband for that too, and men – the ‘good’ kind that married their girl and loved her – didn’t seem to trip over themselves to propose to her. Truth be told, she’d never been proposed to, and while that fact hurt when she turned twenty-five, a couple years later it no longer had any impact on her.

So what was she to do now that her life had taken a ninety-degree turn? She’d say a hundred-and-eighty degree turn if she had a baby and a man on her hands, but since she had only one of the two—

The car slammed to a halt with a screech of its tires, sending a wash of bile high up her throat. Throughout the ride, the contents of her stomach had rolled and ebbed, making her feel green. Speed and sharp turns were things she would need to steer clear of as of now if she wanted to ease her nausea and not start looking like a leprechaun.

After paying the driver, she exited the car, walked up the stone steps of the bank and entered the marble lobby, heading straight for the private lift that led to the office of the bank’s CEO, Umberto Rinaldi.

Her title said she was the big boss’s personal assistant, but few would realize how much this umbrella term encompassed. Secretary, planner, bail-out-of-trouble minion, cover-his-arse-in-every-business-deal ghost partner, love life organizer, and as quirky as it sounded, friend. She was all this to the big man himself.

The metal doors slid open and she stepped out onto the plush, slate-grey carpet that ran through the whole room where one half was a luxuriously appointed waiting room and the other held her desk and work equipment.

Jane took a deep breath as she walked with a steady step towards her office. She threw a glance at the slinky, silver watch on her left wrist. Ten o’clock. She needed to have some urgent request slips signed by the boss, as was the case every day, and have them dispatched to the relevant departments before eleven so business could continue as usual.

There was no time to waste dwelling on her situation. The job came before everything at this time of the day.

After fishing her keys from her purse, she dropped the leather tote next to her chair and opened the drawer containing the suede folder with all the confidential requests neatly arranged in it.

With the file clutched tightly in her hand, she closed the drawer with her hip and walked to the large, double-paneled doors leading to the most private sanctum of the bank after the vaults.

Her gaze scanned the wide, richly appointed room as she stepped in after a sharp knock. Tiny dust motes drifted in lethargic motions where the rays of the March sun slanted through the windows edged in heavy, tied-back red velvet curtains. Thick books bound in green and gold were displayed on mahogany library shelves that ran along one whole wall, and dark wood furniture was strategically displayed around the office, making one think of the posh setting of a elegant country club.

Amidst all this Old World splendor, Jane couldn’t find a living soul. She groaned. He wasn’t here. Again. How many times would she have to tell him he was expected to physically be in the office during working hours?

A small sound caught her attention then, a little beep, followed by the swish of fabric moving against leather. Jane’s gaze landed on the executive chair. It was turned so that the back faced the door.

The sod. With quick but silent steps, she went around the chair and faced the distinguished-looking gentleman who sat there.

He raised dark, stricken eyes to her. Jane looked him up and down, to find a PDA clutched tight in his hands. He didn’t move at first, and then he shook his head. A few strands of his thick, silver hair broke free and brushed over his wide forehead.

“You’re playing that silly construction game again?” It was her turn to shake her head.

He gave a sheepish smile in reply. She sighed. His shoulders slumped in response before he turned on his full Italian charm and smiled at her with a kind of charisma that would put Hollywood hunks of the fifties and sixties to shame.

But this didn’t work on her, and she placed her hands on her hips, the folder still in her grasp while she peered down at him from her full height of five-foot-ten.

“I swear,” she said, “if you didn’t need that phone for important calls and emails, I’d snatch it from you. I bet you spent the whole morning playing this stupid game.”

It might sound strange for a personal assistant to speak to her boss in this manner. But a long time ago, four years actually, when she started to work for Umberto, she had realized nothing but schoolmistress severity worked on the man. To the world, he was this mighty financial magnate who took on the riskiest deals and emerged the victor. Behind the scenes though, Jane had learned that the reason for his success was his potent Mediterranean charm he ladled on in buckets on clients, friends, and foes alike.

The actual work behind every deal wasn’t Umberto’s doing. It was hers. His previous string of personal assistants had all quit barely a month into the job after viewing the staggering amount of work that would be required of them. Lucky for her she had degrees in administration, finance and banking. The knowledge had come in handy for bailing Umberto out of all the potential crises that could arise due to his laid-back attitude to his work.

“Come on, Jane. It was only for ten minutes or so.”

She glanced at the screen. “You beat your high score in ten minutes this time? Congratulations.”

Their eyes locked in a clash of wills, neither ready to give in. After a stifling moment, Umberto sprang to his feet and walked past her, pocketing the PDA in his jacket. “Relax, my dear. There is nothing on the agenda today.”

“There’s the meeting with Brinks Corporation at two,” she replied coolly, watching him strut around the office.

He stopped in his tracks, his face turning ashen. “That’s today?”

Jane wanted to smile at his discomfited expression, but she refrained from doing so. “Yes. And in case you’re wondering, yes, I do have your back covered with all the prep work.”

He threw his hands up then, gesturing to the skies. “You are a true gem.”

“Yeah, so you say.” If she had a pound for every time she heard that, she’d be a millionaire today. “Papers for you to sign,” she said as she placed the folder on his desk.

He came back to the chair and slid into it, put on his reading glasses and signed the documents one after another.

Jane was about to leave when he called her.

“Could you have flowers delivered to Olivia? I was thinking red roses would be perfect.”

She stopped and turned to face him. “Say that again?”

He sighed, as if he were dealing with a little kid who didn’t understand a thing. Jane’s blood did a single turn in her veins before it reached boiling point. She hated it when he patronized her like that.

“Olivia. It’s her birthday. Can you have five dozen red roses sent to her flat?”

She’d heard him right the first time. Olivia was Olivia Rinaldi, his ex-wife. He’d been in touch frequently with her in the past weeks, after a communications drought of years.

“Red roses?” she asked. “For your ex-wife?”

He grew all flustered then. “What’s so wrong with that? She always loved red roses.”

Jane closed her eyes and sent out a silent prayer asking God to grant her patience. She was already seriously disturbed with the shocking news she’d had earlier. No time would be a good time actually, but Umberto couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to embroil her in his complicated love life. Opening her eyes, she looked at him. “You never ask me to send red roses to a woman unless you have her in your sights. Think Olivia makes a good target now?”

“She’s not a target. I love her.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.”

In the past years, she’d seen her fair share of women, most of them half-brained bimbos, coming in and going out of Umberto’s life. She knew because she was the one who ‘arranged’ the conquest and also handled the debriefing once it was over.

“Umberto, after the last woman you ditched, I told you I would no longer take part in your little games of cat and mouse. And I’m certainly not gonna do it where your ex-wife is concerned.”

“Aww, come on, Jane,” he pleaded.

She shook her head. “No.”

“I’ll make it worth your while. Another raise. What do you say to that?”

No one really wanted to spit on extra money earned legally, but this was simply a tactic of his to make her succumb. “No. How am I gonna explain another raise when I file my tax return? You already gave me one last December.” Not that she needed to provide an explanation, but she doubted he’d recall that.

“Please, Jane. Just this once.”

“Do it yourself,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“A company car then.”

“I don’t even have my driving license.”

“An unlimited card at that luxury lifestyle shop in Knightsbridge that you like so much?”

“I already have one.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Jane. Just help me, will you?”

Jane hated being played for a fool, but when Umberto gave her that sad, beaten dog appearance, she was almost certain she would give in. Despite being a cad, Umberto Rinaldi was a nice man. Many a time, she’d pictured him as some sort of father figure in her life.

“Oh heck,” she cursed under her breath. “Isn’t five dozen a bit over the top?” she asked.

“No. Everyone will send her one or two. I want to stand out.”

And you will, she thought.

With resignation sinking heavy in her, Jane walked out of the office and headed for the phone on her desk to call the florist.

*****

“Happy birthday, Mum.”

Michael Rinaldi engulfed the petite Olivia in a one-armed hug, his other hand holding a fragile bouquet of delicate exotic orchids while they stood on the threshold of her flat in Belgravia, in the left wing of a restored Victorian mansion.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” She threw both arms around him, standing on tiptoe, the top of her blonde head barely touching his chin.

When she released him, she smiled and tugged on his coat. “Come on in.”

He followed her inside, closing the heavy wood door behind him. The smell of lavender tickled his nostrils, taking him back to the days when he lived with her. His mother loved to have lavender potpourri bowls everywhere, and she had the linen, sheets and curtains in her house scented with the calming English flower.

“This is for you.” He placed the fragile bunch in her arms and watched a smile light up her face. The sight brought some lightness to his heart, and for once, he allowed himself to grin like a loony character. He enjoyed seeing her happy.

Michael glanced around the bright and airy front room, his gaze landing on the many flower assortments on every available surface. “So,” he said with a chuckle, “your suitors are all lining up today.”

She brushed his comment off with a laugh. “They’re from friends, Mike. Girl friends.”

“Yeah, right,” he countered, and she gave him a mock glare that had him throwing his head back and laughing heartily. “Just joking, Mum.”

“I know, sweets. Come sit down.” She patted the seat next to her on the bright red, contemporary-style settee.

“Let me take off my coat first.” He walked back to the door where he flung his trench on the hanger and then returned to the front room and sat down beside her. “So, enjoying your day so far?”

“It’s good, especially since you took a full morning off to be with me. I thought you’d come around earlier. Thank goodness I asked Mabel to prepare brunch and not breakfast.”

Michael winced. Work kept him busy, and he had tried hard to clear his schedule that morning. “Phillip and I went to the team’s practice session earlier. I got caught in a meeting with the manager.”

She nodded. “I hear the team is doing well in the league table.”

“Yes, it is. We may even make it to the Premier League next season.” Michael and his best friend, Phillip Campbell, co-owned the first division football team of Ashford Rovers. Whenever their schedule allowed it, the two of them went to see the team go through their preparations on the training grounds to offer their support and keep a close eye on the group.

“Brunch is ready,” Mabel, his mother’s housekeeper for the past thirty years, announced from the doorway leading to the dining room.

On the way to the table, Michael stopped to drop a kiss on Mabel’s cheek. He was fond of the old girl. She had been like a second mother to him when he was growing up.

“It must really be a special occasion to see you around here,” she told him, and Michael shrugged his shoulders and gave her a cheeky smile. She playfully shook her finger in a scolding gesture.

Michael slid in the seat opposite his mother at the table laden with French toast, cheese and ham omelettes, fresh rolls, salads, juices and tea and coffee.

“You planning to feed an army, Mae?” he asked with mock curiosity, using the nickname he’d always used to call the older woman.

She huffed and he chuckled as he watched her depart for the kitchen.

“Stop taking the mickey out of her, Mike,” his mother scolded.

He winked at her. “For now.” He reached for a dainty porcelain cup and poured himself some coffee. Eyeing the fragile china, he shuddered. “Mum, couldn’t you have used some other crockery? I’m afraid I’ll break this doll’s set.”

“Just don’t go all angry and seething on me and you’ll be fine.”

He glanced at her and shrugged. Over the years, he’d been known to smash a few defenseless teacups in his fist when strong emotion overwhelmed him. But that was when he was a teenager. Now a grown man, he knew how to reign in his formidable temper.

Michael piled his plate with French toast and dug in with relish.

They chatted over the meal, his mother taking the opportunity to grill him about work, which he discussed. When the topic veered to his private life, he expertly sidestepped the issue. When he had something going in his love life, he’d tell her.

“So, you met Phillip this morning.”

He nodded.

“How is he? Grace called earlier and she didn’t sound well at all.”

He carefully placed his fork down before reaching for his cup. Taking a fortifying sip of coffee, he settled back in his chair and faced her. “Things are not looking good, I’m afraid. Phil thinks he’s cornered, and Grace is miserable. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear they’re pulling the plug on their relationship.”

His mother gasped. “It’s that bad? I know Grace’s pregnancy wasn’t planned but still...”

Did he know what she meant! He dealt with the same disbelief whenever he encountered either one of the couple. Lately, they weren’t even spotted together.

“She’s expecting his baby, and that idiot only thinks his life and his freedom are lost.”

His mother reached out and patted his hand. “Don’t be so hard on him. It’s not easy for big magnates like you lads.”

Michael narrowed his gaze on her. “Are you saying I’m like this too?”

Many would have backed off from the slight growl in his tone, but his mother was unfazed and she simply brushed him off with a wave of her hand.

“Most men aren’t ready for a baby, and men like you – successful, thriving, career-driven – have an even harder time reconciling with the idea of a child.”

He kept watching her. His teeth started to hurt after a while. He was clenching his jaw, and that was a sure predictor of his rising temper.

“Your father was like that too, you know,” she said coolly, before she added in the same calm tone, “Put that cup down. You’re about to break it.”

Michael did as he was told, more to spare her from ending up with a mismatched set than because he wanted to obey her. “I’m not like him,” he said in a low tone.

She gave him a sad smile. “Sweetheart, look at you. You’re thirty-three years old, and you’ve never once brought a girl home. I see all these dates you go on splashed on the front page of the tabloids and even these are few and far between. Now tell me how and when you’re going to find a nice girl, settle down and have a family with the kind of life you live?”

Michael didn’t want to admit it but she had a point. Everything she said was true, but that didn’t mean he was like her ex-husband. “I’m my own person, Mum. Not anyone’s reflection.”

“I just wish you’d slow down and find someone, Mike. Life isn’t all about money and making super deals and being known as an über-millionaire.”

“Yes, Mum,” he dutifully replied. Frankly, he didn’t see what else there was to live for. The kind of fake, all made-up and all spruced up women he usually met in the circles he evolved in didn’t impress him, and they were all after one thing – money. As for a family, to have children, one needed a woman first. Strike it off right then for him.

“Face it, Mike. You’re more like your father than you want to admit.”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger. “Mum, that’s enough.”

“Why? You have to accept it sooner or later and only then will you be able to move forward in your life. Umberto Rinaldi is your father, and you take after him whether you like it or not.”

“So I’m a callous bastard like he is?” His eyes flew open.

He saw her flinch, but he wouldn’t take his words back. This was one of the reasons he didn’t meet his mother that often. She was too stuck on getting him to face the ‘truth’. The truth to him was that he’d been fathered by an inconsiderate man who had happened to be married to his mother but who had never been there for him. Over the course of his life, he’d seen his ‘father’ less than ten times, and that too was stretching it. The man had left when Olivia got pregnant and divorced her officially two years later.

“You are his son. Full stop.”

Michael sighed. “What do you want me to say? And even if I embrace the fact that he fathered me, what happens then? We won’t fall in a familial hug and forgive and forget. It’ll snow in hell before I let that happen.”

“Get over this anger, Mike. It’s not good for you.”

He didn’t reply.

She sighed. “You’re just as stubborn as he is. It might turn out to be a good idea if you don’t have that family after all.”

Bitterness laced her words, and he heard it. He ached for stirring this awful feeling in her, but she had brought the subject up and he couldn’t let it die. “I won’t make a lousy father.”

“You’re sure of that?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Mike.”

She could as well have said ‘when pigs fly’.

The atmosphere at the table grew quiet, hushed, and filled with unspoken feelings. They hung like a canopy above their heads.

Congratulations mate. It’s her birthday, and you just ruined it.

He reached for her across the table. “I’m sorry. Let’s forget about this, okay?” He dropped a kiss on the back of her hand.

She smiled, and her aqua blue eyes sparkled as she gazed at him. He smiled too.

The doorbell chimed, and shortly after, Mabel walked in with a huge arrangement of red roses.

His mother had a boyfriend. Who else would send so many crimson roses on her birthday? Feeling mischievous as a young boy again, Michael plucked the card from the bouquet before his mother could.

“Give me that, you cheeky git.”

He flapped the card just out of her reach. “You’re eager to see who it’s from?”

“Mike,” she scolded.

Laughing, he handed her the card. “Okay, won’t torture you further.”

She opened the envelope and pulled out a thick, cream- colored card. He watched her eyes scan the message, the hint of a smile touching her lips before she got up to gather the roses from Mabel’s arms. Interesting.

“Who’s your new boyfriend?”

“None of your business,” she replied over her shoulder.

An alarm rang in Michael’s head. She never hid from him who she could be currently seeing. So this secrecy meant only one thing.

“It’s from him.” He all but spat the words out.

His mother stopped on the threshold of the dining room and turned to face him. “Yes. Umberto sent them.”

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because it’s a special day? Stop being so uptight, Mike.” She then turned and exited the dining room.

Michael’s hands clenched into fists. That lout wanted to work his way back into her good graces. He’d be damned if he let that happen. He turned to Mabel.

“She didn’t seem surprised that he sent her flowers.”

“You know, laddie, this isn’t the first time he’s been in touch with her lately.”

“What?” he exclaimed. “And it’s only now that you’re telling me this?”

“Have you been around lately?” she remarked, before she softened and patted his arm. “She’s a grown woman, Mike.”

He seethed as he unclenched his fists and settled his hands on the back of a chair, the knuckles paling white under the force with which he gripped the wooden surface.

“I hate to see this as much as you do, lad. I know the likes of him. They’re no good.”

“Exactly my opinion, Mae.”

He had to do something, but what? Mabel must have caught his somber expression.

“Don’t go courting trouble, lad.”

“No,” he replied through clenched teeth. He needed to have a talk with her ex-husband. A man-to-man encounter.

“You will go find him, won’t you?”

He looked at her and nodded.

She shook her head. “Big mistake. If you want anything accomplished, it’s not him you should target.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Men like him are clueless about everything but their goals. Someone else does the dirty work for them.”

“Who?”

“Think. You are a busy man too. When you have something to do, who do you entrust with the task?”

“My personal assistant,” he replied without thinking.

“Exactly.” Mabel smiled. “If you find his PA, you cut the evil at its root.”

It made sense. Without his faithful PA doing everything for him, Umberto would be helpless.

An even better idea wormed its way into his head.

If he got the PA to do as he wanted, he could easily make sure nothing came out of this renewed interest in Olivia. His mother would also come out of the whole nasty episode unhurt, while the person who would be hurt deserved it and more.

Michael set out to find his mother. After a hug and a kiss, he fibbed about an important appointment he needed to attend and left.

Getting into his car, he set out for the City. Reaching for his mobile, he waited until his personal assistant, Rory, answered at the other end. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Find out who Umberto Rinaldi’s PA is and call me back. ASAP.” He was about to cut the call when Rory’s small voice pierced through the line.

“That would be Jane Smithers, sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, yes. She’s the one we deal with when we do business with Vista Standard.”

“Thanks.”

He cut the call, pensive. He had a meeting with Jane Smithers, whether she agreed to it or not. She’d hear him out and consent to do his bidding. As someone who didn’t hesitate to help such a cad work his wiles, he had no compassion for her.

Michael set his jaw and smiled a slow, lazy smile.

Soon, Umberto Rinaldi’s PA wouldn’t know what hit her.

Wasn't that great!! Thank you so much Nolwynn for sharing this excerpt with us. There isn't a buylink for this book since it doesn't come out until January 8, 2010 -- but here is where it will be -- so be sure to bookmark that page so that you can get your copy of January 8th!

Contest

You don't want to wait until January to read Storms in a Shot Glass! I can completely understand. Nolwynn Ardennes has graciously agreed to give one reader an advanced ebook copy of her January release.

What do you have to do? Answer the question and one lucky participant will win an advance reader's ebook copy of Storms in a Shot Glass!

Rules:

Email your answer to darkdivareviews@gmail.com
Subject Line: STORMS IN A SHOT GLASS ENTRY
Deadline: midnight December 6, 2009
Winner will be announced December 7, 2009

DO NOT give your answer in the comments here (that wouldn't be fair to you since that would give your answer to others).

QUESTION:
Find the actual name of the store mentioned in broad terms in the conversation between Jane and Umberto, in the excerpt. (Hint: Type what you found in the excerpt into google and tell us the name)

And, of course, if you have any questions at all, just email that same address and we'll be happy to assist you. :)

Thank you so much for joining us today to meet Nolwynn Ardennes and learn about Storms in a Shot Glass. It looks like it's going to be quite an interesting and engaging tale!

Good luck in the contest!


Disclaimer: In accordance with new federal regulations, I am divulging that Dark Diva Reviews will not receive any form of compensation from your use of the buy links located in this posting whether from the author or from the company which is linked.