The Lover's Workshop - FREE on Amazon on the 16th and 17th of April

Book 1 in the Dear Roz Series - The Lover's Workshop

Rozlyn Rook is a quick thinking, no-nonsense mistress of her own destiny. With a successful advice column under her belt and an even more lucrative "male-trapping" workshop several times a year, her days are filled with the quiet satisfaction every alpha female enjoys. However, a problem appears on the horizon in the shape of Sue Peoples, a vicious magazine critic. Sue has enrolled into one of Roz's workshops for one reason. Roz stole her boyfriend, and nobody does that to Sue Peoples and survives.

Enter an English Knight. Nathan Knight, writer of an advice column for men about women for a rival newspaper. Although they have never met, the two have sparred using their columns as weapons. He has read her provocative words, finding them ignorant and arrogant, much like he assumes she would be. When Nathan's friend and boss conspires to have them seated next to each other for his own amusement at a charity event, the fuse gets lit. Best to stand back. Roz already has her hands full with a vicious magazine critic who set her career-destroying sights on her. One is a thorn in her side, the other, a pain in her... assets.

Roz quickly finds herself one down in the one-upmanship game that Nathan started. That is totally unacceptable to the Queen of the advice column. She is now battling on two fronts and in danger of losing on both. How can she thwart a critic hellbent on her destruction while dealing with a vile, irritating, conceited, incredibly annoying, mildly attractive English upstart at the same time? His actions have already cost her the boyfriend she unwittingly stole from Sue. Roz is two down and blazing mad. It doesn't help that Nathan of the 'Nathan Knows Best' column appears unscathed through it all. The gloves are well and truly off and she will have her revenge. Or will she?

Chapter 10 - What! No Mustache?

A Fundraiser for Homeless Cats              

Nathan glanced at his watch as he entered the civic-center. He knew only that he would be sharing the table for eight with a prickly spinster who had organized the whole event. What the heck am I doing here? Why would Franco want me to represent the newspaper at a fundraiser for homeless cats? It made little sense. Franco himself, owned one dog and zero cats. Having arrived late, he noticed that soup and expensive slender crystal rose vases had already been placed beside each name card. Spotting his own name, he eased himself into the seat next to a rather attractive young woman.

       "Good evening," he said in a cheery voice. "And you are?"

The young lady turned her card so that he could read her name. Rozlyn Rook. His demeanor changed, as a distant memory summoned itself.

       "You're Rozlyn Rook?"

       "That's what the card says, Mr Knight." Roz had already checked out the name of the person who would be sitting next to her, and was irritated to find his name, even though they had never met. "My ticket was given to me by my editor-in-chief, who in turn was given the ticket by one Franco Profilio. Does the name ring any bells?"

       "Son-of-a-bitch!" exclaimed Nathan. "Payback."

       "Excuse me?" said Roz, "Feel free to explain."

       "Sorry. No can do, Ms. Rook. Private matter. Sorry."

Rozlyn raised her bent arm. "This is my elbow," she announced clearly.

Nathan was lost. Nothing came to mind. Lunacy might explain it. Beyond that, he had nothing.

       "You once wrote that I didn't know my arse from my elbow," she went on. "I merely wished to show you the error of your ways."

Nathan nodded. No point in incriminating himself further.

       "So tell me," Rozlyn said, "what was the first thing that you noticed about me?"

       "Well," replied Nathan, immediately before taking a mouthful of wine, "I was pleasantly surprised that you don’t have a mustache."

Roz leaned toward him and whispered into his ear.

       "I'll bet that you wouldn't mind putting your face next to my beard, though?"

Nathan put his wrist up to his mouth, but was unable to avoid spitting his wine over his hand and into his soup.

       "Sorry. Sorry," he said to the functions matron who had spotted his inappropriate behavior. "Wine went down the wrong way."

       "I was always led to believe that the English enjoyed superior breeding," Roz mentioned, leaning over towards the matronly host. “Perhaps that quality was exaggerated.”

The spinster turned her steely gaze upon Nathan for a second before looking away.

       "That was wrong of you, on every level," Nathan said.

       "All's fair in love and war," quoted Roz. "Good job that particular wine complements the lobster bisque," she added.

A gong sounded to start the donation pledges.

       "Who will be the first to stand up and pledge one thousand dollars towards a home for cats?" boomed out the voice of the celebrity announcer, a local singer.

       "Not flipping me," Roz muttered, to no one in particular. "I’m no huge fan of cats, but I am partial to these bread sticks," she said, leaning over sideways to reach one.

Nathan snatched a thorny rose from its glass prison, and slipped it under Roz's buttock just before she regained her upright position. She shot up out of her seat as a thorn embedded itself in her backside.

       "Jesus!" she yelled, her hand reaching for her injured flank.

Nathan started clapping. The rest of the room burst into applause.

       "Rozlyn Rook, ladies and gentlemen," called out the announcer. "The first to pledge one thousand dollars. Thank you from dozens of grateful cats, Ms. Rook."

As the cheering continued, many glasses were raised into the air in her honor. She turned her furious gaze on Nathan.

Nathan laughed, clutching his sides.

       "War of the Roses, luv. English history. You should read it sometime. Oh dear, that was priceless."

Rozlyn eased herself back into her seat, careful not to antagonize her punctured rear end. She regained her calm demeanor.

       "Yours, I believe," she said, handing the flattened rose to her antagonist.

       "I'm impressed, Ms. Rook," said Nathan, bringing the damaged bloom to his nose.

       "The sweet smell of victory," he explained, replacing the rose into its receptacle.

       "I admit it, Mr Knight. You won this battle," Roz said, baring her teeth. No sign of a smile reached her lips. "But this war is far from over."

Nathan took a second look at his competitor in the newspaper ratings game. Damned if that cold stare she visited upon him wasn't the sexiest thing he had seen in years. Come to think of it, she was quite stunning. Her barely concealed anger made him acutely aware of the intelligence that lay behind her eyes. He was, however, completely unaware of how long he had been staring at her.

Rozlyn snapped her fingers in front of his face a couple of times.

       "Sorry," he said, his cheeks aglow from the realization of his faux-pas.

       "Was that interest I saw in your face, Mr Knight? It was, wasn't it?"

       "Good heavens no," replied Nathan, a little too quickly.

       "Then why the red face when caught staring at me?"

"That's the very reason they call this a blush wine," he replied, recovering his wits. "Perhaps I drank too much of the stuff."

       "Uh-huh!" exclaimed Roz. "That's one possibility."

       "What's the other?"

       "I am quite an expert in the visual cues that men can't help making when interested in a woman," Rozlyn replied, allowing her eyes to flit over Nathan's face and tuxedo covered torso as she cocked her head to one side.

       "Please," he said, "you're making me feel like a cheap side of beef, the way you're weighing me up." He turned his head from her, the way a coy virgin might.

Roz grinned, despite herself. "Truce, just for the rest of the evening?" she asked, her eyes moving to the lips that would carry his reply. Sensual lips below an attractive nose. His smile touched his eyes and Rozlyn felt her stomach flutter.

       "Truce," he agreed, raising his glass towards her. Their wine glasses clinked together and they both took a sip, each keeping one eye on the other.

       "I have a limo coming to pick me up," said Nathan. "It should be outside about now. I only wanted to show my face, not stay for the whole horrid affair. Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Rook." He extended his hand to her.

She watched her own hand slide into his. His grip was firm and dry… and lasted longer than it should.

 "I need to get some air myself," she said, confused at the signals her body was radiating. "Do you mind if I accompany you outside?"

       "Not at all," he replied, standing up behind her seat and pulling it away from her.

       "Quite the proper English gentleman," she said, "when you're not stabbing a girl with a thorny rose."

       "What can I say," he replied. "like your bottom, my conscience was pricked."

Now that Nathan stood over her, James Bond making contact with a possible conquest, the flutter in Rozlyn's belly produced a delicious glow further south. Nathan reached into his inside pocket, pulled out a signed check and wrote an amount on it. He dropped it beside the prickly functions matron while her back was turned. Nathan offered his arm, and Roz slipped her arm into his.

Roz fought back a smile. The pace he adopted was suited to the full-length dress she wore. So, he noticed the small details. They walked arm in arm outside into the cool evening air. The very second they reached the pavement, a shiny black limousine pulled up beside them. The driver emerged from the far side, walked around and opened the door for his client.

       "Farewell, Nathan Knight," she said.

Their eyes met. Nathan pulled her in, half turning as he dipped her surprised body into the classic lovers embrace. Before she could so much as gasp, his lips found hers in a crushing kiss. Every bit as quickly, he reversed his movements and released her.

       "Goodnight, Rozlyn Rook," he replied, and entered the limo without so much as a backward glance.

She had lost the power of speech and watched, mesmerized, as the limo disappeared from sight.

       "Who the hell was that?" shouted an angry Ted, striding towards his girlfriend. "What the hell is going on? Explain yourself, woman!"

Roz's fingers touched her mouth. She could still feel where the pressure of Nathan's lips had met hers. She shook her head.

       "Ted, I'm as shocked as you," she said. "We were sitting at the same table together and—"

       "And?"

       "And I walked him outside. I needed the fresh air."

       “Let's go," Ted replied, the anger in his voice evident. "You have some explaining to do."

Some war, Roz thought. I've already lost the first two battles.

       "Let's start with his name,” said Ted, dragging Roz along behind him.

       "You’re late for the charity event, Ted," she blurted out. "You should have been here half an hour ago."

       "So this is what happens when your boyfriend is late, is it?"

Roz rolled her eyes. Difficult to salvage this one. How much trouble can you get a girl into in one evening, Mr. Knight.