There’s no better way to inaugurate a new website than with free stories, so here is one. It’s not really super new — I wrote it a couple of years ago and it’s been rejected by a couple of romance e-publishers since then. I’m going to post a section every other day, but you can also or alternatively download an ebook for US$0.99 at Smashwords: The Perilous Life of Jade Yeo. (If you can’t use Smashwords for whatever reason but want to buy an ebook, let me know.)
I wrote a couple of absurd romance novel-y synopses for the ebook distributors, but if you want to know what it’s about: it’s a novella written in diary entries about books and smooches. It has an Adult Content rating for a single explicit sex scene, but if that’s the sort of thing you’re looking for, I’m gonna be straight with you — you’d have better luck flipping through the Bible.
Thanks to those of you who helped me choose a title! If you previously knew the story as Bloomsbury Girl, you should tune out, but come back in a few days because I added a couple of new entries. One of them has smooching! \o/
Saturday, 7th August 1920
I had tea with the intolerable aunt today. Aunt Iris, the one who is so rich she has a new fur every year, and so mean she has installed a tip box by the door of every WC in her house, so you have to pay a charge every time you need to go. And so sinfully vainglorious I remember she came to visit us at home once and wore a wonderful glossy black mink fur. She sat on the sofa with a fixed grin on her face, sweating gallons in the heat. Ma had to send Koko out to get the doctor. It was just before New Year and Ma was terrified Aunt Iris would go into an apoplexy in our drawing room–which would have been such bad luck.
I had my angle of attack all planned out today, though. On Wednesday I’d found out how much a piece of chocolate cake cost at the restaurant, and I went in with the exact change in my purse. When the waiter asked me what I wanted, I said: “Chocolate cake, please”, and I counted out my coins and paid him right then and there.
“I haven’t got any more money than that,” I explained.
Aunt Iris was furious: she looked like an aunt and she was wearing her furs, of course. Even the English must have thought it peculiar. [...]