The Write Escape

by Charish Reid

  Aiden took her by the face and held her gently. “It pales in comparison to you.”

  The touch of his hand was almost unbearable in its tenderness. She relaxed, sinking into his embrace. She wanted the warmth of his arms, fearful that she’d almost lost him for good. She tilted her head back, eagerly waiting to receive his kiss. Reclaiming her lips, he crushed her to him in a kiss that reminded her of their past intimacy. Antonia relived the velvet warmth of his tongue as it coaxed its way past her parted lips. When he released her, her head swam with a heady desire that only increased under his piercing gaze.

  “My love,” he whispered. “You came back to me.”

  “I had to be the brave one,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I hope that’s not going to be a habit.”

  Aiden ran his fingers up and down her arm and planted a soft kiss on her shoulder. “The next time we part, it’ll be so you can bring your things from Chicago to my home. I want you to clack away on several books, pausing only to make love to me.” He looked up with smiling eyes. “Hell, we can go all over Europe for your writing.”

  “You’ll massage my tired fingers,” she teased.

  “I swear to Jaysus and all his carpenter friends, I will massage more than your tired fingers.”

  She almost believed she was dreaming; that this man’s hand wasn’t cradling her face. But that wasn’t true in the least. This man wasn’t some character she had dreamt up for her novel. He was as real as the salt air that blew in from the Atlantic. He was real and he belonged to her.

  What would Augusta do?

  Antonia reached up with a tentative hand, making contact with the stubble along his strong jaw. The heat of his skin felt real enough. She’d have to return his kiss to make certain. That’s what Augusta would probably do.

  Epilogue

  One year later

  “Professor Harper, how long would you like our cover letter?”

  Antonia pursed her lips before answering her star pupil, Abby. The girl had barely let her pass out the assignment prompt before assaulting her with a series of questions. She liked the young woman’s fervor, but wondered if this was going to be a trend for the rest of the semester. “Well, your query letter should not be more than a page,” she announced to the entire class. “Any more and your editor will chuck the whole thing.”

  She watched in amazement as the students took notes while she spoke. She wondered if that would be a lasting trend as well. “We’ve only got a few more minutes before I let you go, so I want you to look over the parameters of this assignment before you ask any more questions.”

  Antonia waited for them to read the handout. This was almost surreal. It was her first semester in front of the classroom since she was in her twenties. The only difference between this experience and graduate school was that she now had a published book under her belt.

  True to his word, Eddie had pushed her manuscript, The Bangkok Assignment, to the front of the line. She finally let him read the finished product when he settled into his new position at Holloway Press, a more prestigious post than Wild Hare. After her decision to turn down Sixpence, Eddie took a gamble and shot for something more ambitious. Although she was finished with the industry, she was forever grateful for her friend’s confidence in her ability. Making the edits himself, he had made her complete two rewrites, before giving her the green light.

  Abby’s hand shot up again. “Professor Harper.”

  Antonia trained her smile at the girl. “Yes, Abby.”

  “If we already have a book project in mind, could we pretend to market that one?” The young woman’s question was so earnest, it made Antonia smile.

  “Of course you can. This will make for a great experiment when you’re ready to shop a book.”

  “Cool.”

  “Does anyone else have questions?”

  Students shook their heads and started packing up. She had to remember she didn’t necessarily dismiss them. Apparently students had an internal clock for when a class was dying down.

  “Great, when we meet again, we’re going to look at real cover letter examples,” Antonia said loudly over the shuffle of papers.

  As they filtered out of the room, some running to their next class, Antonia exhaled and sat down at her desk. As she sank into her chair, she rested her head against the old wooden surface. She had an actual first day under her belt.

  “Has the herd finished stampeding?” asked a masculine voice from the doorway.

  Antonia’s head shot up. Aiden leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. The late afternoon sun shone on the planes of his face, brightening his green eyes. He wore a pleasant smile as he gazed at her. “Hey.”

  “How was your first day, my love?”

  “Have you ever had a student named Abby Connors?”

  Aiden gave a throaty laugh. “Oh Jaysus, you’re in for a hell of a semester.” He entered the room and sat in one of the student chairs. “She’s a brilliant student; just a little...intense.”

  “Overall, I think it went really well,” she said. “I can’t wait to get home, though.”

  “Ah yes, but before we go home, we have to talk.” He looked a little silly sitting in the small desk, but he wore a serious expression on his face. “I have to ask you something.”

  Antonia frowned in confusion. After living with him for a year, he still had tricks up his sleeve. Moving her life to Ireland had its challenges, but living with him was easier than she thought it would be. She fit into his life without losing herself. She enjoyed waking up next to him and having breakfast together, before taking off by herself to walk along the banks of the River Corrib. Her quiet time was usually spent near the Spanish Arch, people watching and writing notes for her next novel. With Aiden, she finally had the freedom to create and the love she needed. She already felt like she was the luckiest woman in the world.

  That was until he reached into his pocket.

  “Aiden,” she breathed.

  “Just so you know, my mother is on her way from Limerick. She’s already angry that I’m doing this without an audience.”

  Antonia rigidly held her tears in check as she watched him pull out a small box. He stood up from his seat and walked to the front of her desk. “Oh my god...” Her voice sounded distant to her own ears.

  He opened the box, displaying a gold Claddagh ring with a diamond set between two hands. “Professor Harper,” he started in a calm voice. “Will you roll the old chariot with me?”

  Antonia froze, then a cry of relief broke from her lips. “Yes,” she whispered.

  Her reaction seemed to amuse him. Aiden’s smile turned into a chuckle as he took the ring from the box. “Will you continue to inspire me?”

  She lifted her hand to meet him. As he slipped the ring on her finger, he leaned down to kiss the back of her hand. “Yes,” she said through shallow breaths.

  “And will you plan another wedding?”

  Antonia threw her head back and laughed in sheer joy. “Sure.”

  She had no problem trying it again. The life that she wanted to live was with Aiden. Writing, laughing, and loving with Aiden Byrnes.

  * * *

  Reviews are an invaluable tool when it comes to spreading the word about great reads. Please consider leaving an honest review for this or any of Carina Press’s other titles that you’ve read on your favorite retailer or review site.

  To purchase and read more books by Charish Reid please visit Charish’s website at

  charishreid.com.

  Acknowledgements

  To my husband, Noah. All you’ve given me, for the last ten years, is unconditional love. Thank you for rolling the old chariot along with me. To my writing-buddy, Sandra, our time on the red couch wasn’t just about writing books. The book writing was a result of a friendship. I reckon we’ll have plenty more books to write in the future.<
br />
  Thank you to the friends who knew I was a writer well before I had the courage to admit it aloud. Melissa, Evan, Drew, Ricia, Lily, Angela and Courtney, your confidence in my ability has made more of an impact than you’ll ever know.

  To my aunt Carolyn and sister Ronnie: You have taught me that black girls do get their “Happily-Ever-Afters”... We just have to forge the path ourselves and walk with purpose.

  Thank you to my editors, Kate and Stephanie, of Carina Press. You took a chance on an idea and helped me mold Antonia and Aiden into people I’d want to know. To my agent, Saritza Hernandez, thank you for representing me and my ideas. You took a chance as well.

  To the beautiful nation of Ireland and the village of Tully Cross: Thank you for the craic. This is my love letter to you.

  About the Author

  Charish Reid currently lives in Sweden with her professor husband, who enjoys walking and biking way more than she does. While he walks and bikes, she writes contemporary romance featuring sexy academics, who are trying to find love and adventure from under stacks of student papers. While she was born in Little Rock, Arkansas, she has lived all over the United States observing people and taking notes for poetry, essays, and novels.

  After earning her Masters in Literature, she went on to teach English and Rhetoric at several universities before penning her first book. Cashiering at a major discount retailer, being a menswear salesperson, and bartending were fairly easy compared to class prep, performing for students, and grading. When she’s not writing or teaching, Charish enjoys watching movies and talking to folks in other countries. Travels to Thailand, Latvia, Estonia, Finland, Ireland and Sweden will probably find their way into future books.

  You can catch up with Charish here:

  Website: CharishReid.com

  Twitter: Twitter.com/AuthorCharish

  Facebook: Facebook.com/CharishReidAuthor

  Coming soon from Carina Press and Charish Reid

  She’s a prim professor with a missing book and he’s the librarian who wants to...check her out.

  Read on for a sneak preview of Overdue Love from Charish Reid.

  Chapter One

  Subject: Collaboration with Pembroke University’s English Department

  Victoria,

  I look forward to meeting w/ you re: internship. Might be a bit late. Btw, looks like you got an overdue book w/ massive fines...

  For the Duke’s Convenience?

  We might need to discuss

  Cheers,

  John

  Even as her face burned with embarrassment, Victoria managed to read the email twice before staring out the window of her office. Three p.m. on Pembroke’s campus was cloudy with a stiff wind blowing the scarves and jackets of students who hurried to their next class. The middle of October was colder than folks had anticipated, since Illinois had experienced a scorching summer. But the town of Farmingdale was dealing with a cold snap that forced Pembroke University students to change out their flip-flops for UGG boots. The chill that burrowed its way into Victoria’s meager office was replaced with a furnace in her chest. She glanced back at the email and read it once more. Her eyes settled on the book title and narrowed.

  For the Duke’s Convenience.

  “I returned that,” she whispered to her computer screen. As she calculated the length of time it had been since her last visit to the Farmingdale library, she clicked on their website. Her account was flagged with a fine. Victoria’s eyes went round. $27.10. “Jesus, effin’ Christ.”

  Perspiration pricked her scalp and under her arms while she searched for answers. The account information didn’t tell her much, but the amount was alarming enough. She clicked back to John Donovan’s email and tried to read his tone. Joking, laid-back, and late. He would be tardy to their first meeting, which was just as annoying as the overdue book comment. Her time was precious and getting more scarce by the day. After their meeting, she would have to gather the graduate students for an emergency meeting regarding the writing center. Later that evening, she’d have to start on the first wave of grading. She’d made the mistake of assigning papers to two classes only two days apart. On top of all that, she’d stolen a library book.

  Victoria needed some air.

  She gathered herself and shook out her arms in a desperate attempt to cool her armpits. A dull headache joined the itchy sensation of her too-tight braids. She resisted the urge to scratch, since she’d only gotten them done yesterday and still wanted them to have that fresh look. Oh, but she could have used an ibuprofen. Victoria swung her glossy black braids, some decorated with cowrie shells and gold cuffs, behind her shoulder and smoothed down her skirt before leaving her office.

  In the hallway, she glanced at the open doors and spotted Paula’s office. Paula Michaels was an adjunct who shared workspace with two other part-time lecturers. When she wasn’t lesson-planning, the rest of her time was spent writing romance novels that made women flush and swoon. She admired her friend’s passion to create and grade papers at the same time. She peeked in Paula’s workstation and saw her friend with her feet on her desk, balancing a pencil between her lip and nose.

  “Workin’ hard or hardly workin’,” Victoria asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

  Paula glanced up, letting the pencil fall from her face. “A bit of both,” she said with a grin.

  Paula was alone with a small measure of privacy, so Victoria invited herself in and sat at her desk. “What are you working hard on and what are you slacking on?”

  Her friend put her sneakered feet on the floor and straightened up in her chair. After she stuck the pencil in her short afro, she swung her computer monitor around to face Victoria. “Read that,” she said, pointing a bubblegum-pink fingernail at the screen.

  Victoria squinted and leaned forward. “Billy yanked her panties down her thighs...”

  “To yourself,” Paula said.

  “Is this your new book?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Victoria skimmed the page before resting her chin on her knuckles. “Mmh.”

  “Is that a good ‘mmh’ or a bad ‘mmh’?”

  “Do you have to say the p-word so much?”

  Paula let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. “My readers love the p-word. What else am I going to call it?”

  Victoria shrugged her shoulders, her hair ornaments clattering. “I don’t know,” she said. “The books I read have more subtle words like mound and womanhood.”

  “Too much hedging. A lot of women like to get straight to the point, girl. If I labored over the millions of different ways to say pussy, I wouldn’t have time to write what Billy does to it.” She pointed to the second page, forcing Victoria to continue reading.

  Victoria raised a brow as her face burned. “Jeez, Paula. Do guys even do that?”

  Paula raised her own brow in response. “Ooh, baby, what is you doing?”

  “Not that,” she said nodding to the screen. Although, Victoria did have to do some mental calculation to remember the last time any man had shared her bed. Thirty-three and now thirty-four were particularly dry years since her break up with Kevin. Not that he did anything mind-blowing when they did share a bed. Lights off, missionary, and quick was Kevin’s style. His brand of lovemaking wasn’t even long enough for her to think of a theme for the next day’s lecture.

  “Well we need to fix that,” Paula said, turning the monitor back. “Any prospects?”

  “You sound like my mom.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” her friend said with a barking laugh. “Your mom is a piece of work and I don’t want to be associated with her.”

  Victoria debated whether to tell Paula about the strange email she received from John Donovan. Since Paula signed on for the fall semester, it felt easier to face the stressful culture of Pembroke University. Victoria didn’t have very many people to talk to i
n the English department even though she’d worked there for four years herself. But because of the exclusive air of the private institution, a fear of judgement made it difficult to share one’s ideas or problems with equally competitive professors. But this was Paula, her former graduate school buddy and the third member of The Write Bitches Gang. If there was anyone on Pembroke’s campus she could trust it was her girl. “Can I talk to you about administration?” Victoria asked, casting a nervous glance over shoulder.

  Paula typed something before pressing backspace several times. “Girl, yes. Who’s being messy today?”

  “Did you get a chance to go to that all-campus meeting last Thursday?”

  “Adjuncts don’t have to go,” her friend said with a smile.

  Victoria nodded. “Right. So the new president corralled us in an auditorium like Stalin would and told us that the university is basically broke.”

  Paula looked up from her work. “What?”

  “The last president had been playing the stocks with university money and they lost big,” Victoria said in a low voice.

  “Did they tell you this?” Paula asked. She folded her arms over her ample bosom, obscuring the Free Angela graphic on her T-shirt with her brown arms.

  “They didn’t have to,” Victoria said with a sigh. “We all knew they had a ton of investments. But that’s not quite the problem. President Kowalski wants faculty and staff to make up the enrollment numbers. I mean, they’re already increasing tuition for next year, but we need to put our heads down and push for higher numbers.”

  Paula frowned. “How?”

  “Well, I’ll say this about the president, she’s business savvy—”

  “Is she?”

  “—she’s starting a new open door policy that might work,” Victoria finished.

  Her friend remained unimpressed. “Open-door policies are bullshit.”