Coming
November 1, 2017 from Tirgearr Publishing – So Much It Hurts! This
delightful romance is set in a big city somewhere up north. I've
never given it a name, and the residents refer to it as The City.
Pia
Donovan is a small town girl. Newly in the City from a tiny town in
Nebraska, she is overwhelmed by the fast pace. After a long day of
getting lost in the worst part of town, she arrives at her
destination; an historic, grand hotel in the downtown area. Picking
her way across the rutted ground in front of the building, she loses
her balance, nearly falling into the arms of Flynn Chancellor.
Handsome and friendly, Flynn presents a happy distraction for a girl
who's trying to recover from a broken heart.
Sweet,
sultry music poured from the open second-story windows as Pia walked
across the pitted, uneven ground. Scattered with puddles and trash,
it wasn’t a very inviting aspect. The old, grand hotel building
loomed above her, intimidating in the dusky light after sunset.
Sighing, she forged ahead, dragging her rolling suitcase after her.
It bumped into a particularly deep hole and caught. Yanking, she lost
her balance and teetered to the right.
“Watch
out!” Strong hands caught her, setting her on her feet. The same
hands lifted her suitcase. “You all right, little lady?”
Pia
wasn’t sure she liked being called a little lady by any man, but
when she turned to look at him, she decided he had the right to. He
was at least six foot three, maybe taller. She, a petite five three,
was indeed a little lady. He flashed a brilliant smile at her.
“You’re
the newbie.” He extended his hand. “Flynn Chancellor. Welcome to
the fold.”
“Pia
Donovan. Thank you. How does this work, exactly?”
“Didn’t
get orientation?” He tugged her suitcase, ushering Pia inside.
“Sort
of? They told me to report here this afternoon, but I took the wrong
bus and ended up on the way to Maryville. I got as far as Walnut
Street and finally figured out I was in the wrong spot.”
“Ooh,
not a place for a lady of your delicate sensibilities to be.”
“Yeah,
tell me about it. The driver wouldn’t let me out on the street. He
dropped me at a satellite station and told me the right bus to take
back.”
“That
was nice of him.”
“He
said he has a granddaughter my age. He wouldn’t set her loose to
the wolves.”
Flynn
chuckled. “Apt. I grew up in that area. It ain’t pretty.” He
opened the door for her, letting her walk under his arm. It was an
easy fit. “Where are you from, Pia Donovan?”
“Out of
state. I moved here from Nebraska. Outside Kearney.”
“No
kidding? What brings you up here?”
“I got
a scholarship to City University.”
“In?”
He opened
a set of inner doors which led into a large, open area. To the right
and left there were arched doorways which had once led to reception
and lobby areas. They were now full of cast-off furniture and crowds
of men and women, all about her age. Every ethnic blend imaginable
greeted her small-town Nebraska eyes.
“Music.”
“We’ve
got several music majors here. I’ll show you around, if you want.”
“I’d
like that, thank you. How do I get settled?”
“We
talk to Amita.” He pointed to the desk area. It had formally been
the receptionist’s desk — a tall, dark wooden structure that
wrapped around like a bar.
“When
was this place built?”
“Early
1900s.”
“And
they’re tearing it down?”
“No. It
will, eventually, be renovated.”
She
nodded, looking around her at the early elegance of the place. It
sported dark wood wainscoting, light walls, brass wall sconces. This
was in stark contrast with the battered linoleum laid over the
original hardwood floors, holes in the walls, and pieces of plywood
over missing glass panes.
“You
wouldn’t know to look at it, but it was a showplace in its time.
Celebrities from all over the world visited. It was built by one of
the founding families, so they will never tear it down.”
“It’s
still got a stateliness to it, doesn’t it?”
“It
does,” he agreed.
No one
was at the desk, but he leaned over and called through an open
doorway. “Oi, Amita! Found our newbie!”
A tall,
mocha-skinned woman with wildly curly hair came out, wiping her hands
on a dish towel. “Hi! You must be Pia. I’m Amita, I’m the
resident manager. We expected you ages ago.”
“I got
lost.”
“Ended
up on Walnut Street,” Flynn added.
“Oh, my
God! And lived to tell about it!”
Flynn
chuckled and leaned against the tall desk, hands in pockets. Pia had
a moment to take in details she hadn’t noticed outside in the dusk.
He was broad-shouldered, with dancing green eyes. His chestnut
colored hair was nearly to his shoulders, thick and straight, covered
by a faded black fedora. Steel gauges, about the size of a quarter,
stretched each earlobe. His arms were covered by intricate tattoos,
forming sleeves from wrist up. His shirtsleeves were rolled just past
his elbows. Rusty black pants, which looked as if they had seen
better days, dangled from colorful suspenders. His huge feet were
covered in clunky, leather boots. Every piece of clothing was
spattered with different colors of paint.
“You’ll
be in the Ambassador Suite,” Amita said with a grin, handing over a
registration card for Pia to sign.
“Sounds
elegant.”
“It’s
great!” Flynn said with a grin.
©
2017 Dellani Oakes
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