On February 11th, Michele’s new short story, Weightless, will launch globally in all eBook formats. It’s for sale on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, but Michele wants to give it away to as many blog fans as possible to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s been so supportive of her.
Sometimes Looks Can be Deceiving
Annabel’s not surprised when nobody recognizes her at her 10 year reunion. The spotty fat teen nicknamed AnnaBall by the school bullies is long gone. But standing on the edge of the popular crowd, she still feels like that girl. That is, until Jack, her teen crush, starts flirting with her. Much to her amusement, he has mistaken her for Christy Blake, Annabel’s chief tormenter before she moved to France in their last year.
It’s just a bit of fun at first, letting Jack believe she’s Christy. After all, he was nuts about her before she said au revoir to England. And when he asks Annabel out, the fun becomes something even more interesting. The more they date the deeper they fall for each other. So what if Annabel has to fib a little to keep up the façade?
As the lies start compounding, and she realizes that they’re falling in love, she has to tell him who she really is. But she’ll lose the love of her life if she does.
Here’s the free eBook link: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/400385. The coupon code ZH34Q(not case-sensitive) to download the book for free in any eBook format between February 11th and the 14th. The file downloads to their computer and you can send it to your kindle, Nook, iPad, etc from there, or read it as a PDF.
Here are the links to the book.
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1fei9jM
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1fehPS4
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/michele-gorman
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1fei9jM
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1fehPS4
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/michele-gorman
Weightless
Chapter 1
‘Ow.’ My beer
bottle clinked against my teeth as I felt a hand gently grasp my shoulder from
behind.
‘Oh my god, Christy, is that you? How great to see you!’
‘I’m not-’… Christy, I was about to say. But then I turned and saw whose
hand it was. ‘Hi.’
‘Ten years, can you believe it?’ asked Jack as his smile threw me
back to our last year in school together.
‘You look… different but I’d still recognise you anywhere. Did you come
from France or are you based here now? Wait, we both need another drink and
then we can have a proper catch-up.’ He pointed to my bottle. ‘Another beer?
I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?’
He loped off to the bar where our former classmates jockeyed for the
overworked barman’s attention. And I admit it, dear Reader. I ogled him. I took
in his broad shoulders beneath the fitted black jacket, his long jeans-clad
legs and wavy blonde mop of hair.
Jack Winslow, my unrequited love, had actually just spoken to me. He
was buying my beer! … All right, so he thought he was buying Christy’s beer,
but still, beggars shall not be choosy about free drinks.
When the reunion invite arrived with the school’s annual newsletter
I chucked it into the bin. Those newsletters arrived every year in December, as
welcome as a urinary tract infection. They’d wheedled my mailing address from
my Dad and I didn’t have the guts to ring them to opt out for fear that they’d
extort me for a donation for the playing fields or something. I’d been
miserable on those fields. I hated every rain-soaked blade of grass that
slipped me up and each ankle-twisting rut.
Jack returned with our drinks. He set my empty bottle on a nearby
table for me. ‘Cheers. To old times,’ he said.
‘Cheers. Jack Winslow, I can hardly believe it’s you. Here’s to new
times, eh?’
His grin faltered, then widened. Great work, Annabel. Two minutes
into the conversation is just the right time to suggest a future together.
‘Believe it,’ he said. ‘So tell me what you’ve been doing for the
last decade. Are you living in London now?’
I nodded. ‘I live in Notting Hill. Well, according to the estate
agents anyway. My closest Tube is Shepherd’s Bush though. Where are you
living?’
‘Well as long as we’re speaking in estate agent, then I’m in South
Hampstead. If we’re being honest then I’m off Finchley Road.’ He stared at me.
There were tiny lines around his grey eyes and his lashes were darker than I
remembered. ‘I’m really happy you’re here.’
I smiled, surprised that he even knew who I was. Then I remembered
that he didn’t. To him I was Christy. Of course he’d be happy to see her.
Christy and Jack were our school’s answer to Brangelina, though I don’t think
they actually went out together. They just swanned around the school in their
own golden glow, the central figures in our teenage romantic fantasies.
Jack and I stood at the edge of the room together watching the
crowd. Five minutes ago I was just Annabel Markham, aka AnnaBall, Annabell-end,
all-round bully fodder and soft target. Suddenly I was promoted to Head Girl.
What a difference short-sightedness makes.
‘Do you wear glasses?’ I asked before taking a swig of my beer.
His brow furrowed as he hesitated. ‘Ah, well, no. Why?’
‘Oh, well, I guess I remembered you with specs, that’s all. I wasn’t
implying that you need glasses.’ Please shut up, Annabel.
‘Oh, you mean reading glasses. Yes, I did sometimes, for my
astigmatism. But that’s been corrected now.’
He kept staring at me like he had more to say. Surely he’d figured
out that I wasn’t Christy. Aside from being amongst the tallest girls in our
year, we looked nothing alike. My hair had been much darker, for one thing. And
my waistline had been much bigger for another.
But he really did seem to think I was Christy. Which wasn’t at all
how I imagined my night would go when I’d first walked in.
I nearly didn’t turn up at all. Who willingly goes back into the bear pit once they’re freed? Someone
who’s flippin’ out of her mind, that’s who.
My heart started rattling in my chest before I’d even set foot
through the Richmond pub’s door. Upstairs, a table was set up beside the
function room’s entrance. Two women waited to label the alumni but I didn’t
recognise them and it was easy enough to sidestep their markers and Cello tape.
I was well-practiced in the art of creeping about.
I should never have let Kate convince me to come. Of course all the
feelings I’d packed away over the years wouldn’t stay neatly stowed. They’d
wait till I was surrounded by my classmates to spring their locks.
To my relief, at least there was no break in conversation when I
stepped in to the room. A few faces turned curiously but, recognizing neither
friend nor foe, quickly turned away again. After twenty minutes I was still
alone on the fringes of the party. I may as well have been sixteen again.
Actually, that’s not quite true, because I was rarely left alone
then. Given the alternative, this was a bit better.
So Jack’s chattiness was a turn up for the books. He’d said about
ten words to me during the whole of secondary school.
‘Do you see any of the old crowd yet?’ he asked, scanning the room.
My skin suddenly crawled with dread. What if Christy herself was
somewhere in the room? Or her friends? They’d know in a second that I was an
imposter. Then they’d single me out in front of the whole room and it’d be Year
Eleven all over again. ‘No, no, I don’t
see anyone.’ I started edging toward the door.
‘Me neither. But I might not recognise some of them. People can
change a lot in ten years.’ He glanced again at the crowd. ‘Isn’t it odd? When
you’re in school you can’t wait to get away from everyone and when you’ve left
you’re excited to see them again.’
Speak for yourself. ‘Surely you didn’t hate school though. What’s there
to hate when everyone loves you and you’re the teacher’s pet?’
He laughed before catching himself. ‘You’re exaggerating. I was
never the teacher’s pet.’
‘But everyone did love you, so there’s no use denying it.’
‘What about you? The school went into mourning when you moved to
France. Seriously, they flew the flags at half-mast. Bereavement counsellors
were called in.’
I could think of at least one girl who wasn’t in mourning when
Christy moved away. ‘No black arm bands?’
‘They changed our uniforms. Head to toe widow’s weeds for the girls
and black suits for the boys.’
‘Well that was a long time ago,’ I said. ‘They probably renamed a
building or something and went back to the usual uniforms eventually.’
He touched his beer to mine. ‘Immortalised in concrete. That’s my
dream. Hey, what do you say we get out of here? No one else is here that we
know anyway.’
‘Definitely! Let’s go.’ Before Christy sodding Blake turned up.
I’d tell him later about the confusion.
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