Wednesday, November 2, 2016

An Anthology for Charity

I'm so excited. This is the first project I've been involved in where all the sales go to charity. Five romance authors have joined together to make a book full of sweet romances of second chances at love. I'm so privileged to have my story tucked in the middle of this book. And I've had the joy of compiling the book which I'm still busy doing. Second Chances - A Love Anthology will be available for pre-order on 20 November 2016 and for sale on 30 November 2016. All proceeds will go to Hope in Christ Children's Home right in my home town. And I know the wonderful couple who are running the home - they are dear friends of mine. They've made an amazing safe place for the kids where they can grow up with a normal, happy life.

To find out more about the book, we even have a website set up for the sole purpose of this anthology. Thank you to Leenna Naidoo who has done this big job with the help of Patricia Kiyono! I'd also like to give my sincere thanks to Pravina Maharaj who is doing the vital and wonderful job of promoting this book all over South Africa.

Here's the website link:


Heartache...obstacles...missed opportunities...are all in the past.

What if we could start all over again? What if someone from the past offers a new opportunity at love? But what if we've messed up so bad that we're not sure it's possible? Find out if love can work second time around in this beautiful collection of feel-good stories by South African and U.S. romance writers E.A. West, Pravina Maharaj, Patricia Kiyono, Kathy Bosman, and Leenna Naidoo. All proceeds in aids of HIC Children's Home, Newcastle, South Africa.


I'm posting an excerpt from my story, His Treasure.

Since Bridget had told him it was over, he’d turned into some kind of Cookie Monster with women. He chewed them and spat them out within weeks of their first date. Could it be something to do with the gnawing feeling of being not good enough? If Bridget didn’t want him, there must be something intrinsically wrong with him. They’d grown so close in a space of a few months, and then she’d told him “enough.” Her reasons still didn’t make sense. He’d bared his soul to the woman, but she didn’t seem to care.
Swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the tension release out of his clenched fists and jaw. He needed to forget her. He’d always been outgoing, had plenty of friends, been rather popular. Some quiet, studious, poetry-obsessed college student shouldn’t destroy his self-esteem so easily. Nope, she wouldn’t. He’d forget about her. He wouldn’t give her the joy of making him miserable.
“Why did you think I’d help you, though?” he couldn’t help asking Ebon. “You know I don’t talk much nowadays.”
“You’re still a chick magnet despite often acting like a forty-year old with six kids and no time for fun.”
He pursed his lips. He didn’t want to be a chick magnet anymore. Why did he have to be born with such good genetics—broad shoulders, tall, good hair, flat abs, “sparkling blue eyes” as the girls would say, and a charming, dimpled smile?
For once, he wished he could be like Ebon, plain and ordinary, medium-height, skinny arms, bit of a paunch, ash-brown hair. He looked at his friend and punched him in the arm.
“Hey, why did you wear that stupid golf shirt again?”
Ebon picked up speed and glared at the traffic in his way. “You don’t look any better in that stupid white T-shirt. What, you think you’re Adonis or something?”
Dale laughed and his mood picked up as Ebon joined him in cackling.
They soon arrived outside a chapel which seemed to be teeming with life. Several women had gathered by the entrance, all young and hip-looking with their skinny jeans, sleeked hair, and shiny lipstick. He sighed inwardly. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.
“Too many chicks,” he muttered, but Ebon didn’t hear him. Instead, he headed for the entrance with a confident stride. The guy had suddenly grown in boldness. He’d hide behind Ebon, then.
He desperately tried to spot some male company in the crowd, but nothing. Maybe the guys were inside. How to weave through the crowd of girls? He saw a path and headed straight for it, for once not caring about introducing Ebon to everyone as he usually did. Once inside, he could breathe again and sucked in several calming breaths while looking for a place to sit. He found seating near the back. If Ebon complained, he’d say it was to get a good vantage point to see all the women. The plastic seat wasn’t too comfortable and the buzz from the doorway made his heart-rate climb again, especially seeing that buzz heading inside. He tried to take in the traditional d├ęcor of the chapel and imagine he lived in medieval times and had chosen to be a monk. A smile filled his face at the thought. His thirst for adventure wouldn’t make him a good monk, though. But the thought calmed him. Phew, he really had developed a dislike for girls.
The swarm came down the aisle and hovered around, giggling over their seat choices. One of the bees headed for the front and fiddled with the projector set-up. Fuzzy, dark-brown curls at the back of her head caught his eye and his palms grew sweaty. She looked a lot like Bridget. Great. Now the leader of the club was a Bridget look-a-like. Turning around, she scanned the room with all seriousness.
He blinked.


The story will be available exclusively on Amazon.

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