Play Me A Love Song

By Greta Bondieumaitre

When you’re used to being a doormat, do you ever stop being one?
Gina can’t seem to answer that question. And what’s more, she doesn’t approve of such a term. She prefers friendly and sweet, accommodating, but never doormat. She’s never been able to say no, and she’s always gone out of her way to make her boyfriends feel safe and at home with her, but they’ve never seen the reason to mirror her actions.
When she finds herself broke, unemployed and dependent on her uncaring firefighter boyfriend, she decides to take up an extracurricular activity to cheer her up. Her search for a cheap guitar sends her into the music store of handsome guitarist Jonathan. But even as Jonathan plays her favorite love songs, she can’t seem to forget the notorious Moham. Everything reminds her of him, and she craves a call from him just like a sugar addict craves her next candy.
Can Gina wake up and hear the music before she loses her real chance at true love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greta Bondieumaitre
• Release date: Jul 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301816118

Greta Bondieumaitre

Originally from St. Lucia, a small Caribbean island, Greta Bondieumaitre has a passion for writing romance novels which depicts her Caribbean heritage. She published her first novel in 2010 at the age of twenty five. She loves to get feedback from her readers so dont hesitate to contact her through one of her websites/blogs.

Book preview

PLAY ME A LOVE SONG

By

Greta Bondieumaitre

Published by Greta Bondieumaitre at Smashwords.

Copyright 2013 Greta Bondieumaitre

The author or authors assert their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author or authors of this work.

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to everyone who purchased my first publication, Her Heart’s Desire. Your continuous support has meant a great deal! Thanks to Celesta Sadoo for your enthusiasm and encouragement and not to mention for promoting my book like it was yours. A big thank you to my in part sponsors, B.E Distribution and Giga Music, (10 route de la Folie, Fort-de-France, 97200, MQ). Thanks for letting me use the name of your store to make my novel a little more real.

This one’s for us, silly girls, especially Celesta.

Chapter One

So here’s my stop. I’ll talk to you later, I say to Claude, an ex-colleague I was walking with before I spotted the Giga Music store on Rue de la Folie.

Okay, well, I’ll see you sometime. You know, we still miss you at the restaurant. You should come see us one of those days, he says, waving as he continues on his way, leaving me standing nervously in front of the small music store’s windows. I stare at it a few moments, before taking in a deep breath and walking in. The automatic doors open and close behind me with a small swish as I enter into the dark interior of the store.

"Bonjour," I announce to the gray-haired lady behind the counter. She isn’t very courteous and barely casts me a glance. A little flustered, I rub my hands together and take a look around at the array of guitars hanging from every wall.

I’ve been here before. It was to buy a small microphone for my PC. And the atmosphere was the same—not very friendly. This lady should really work on her customer-communication skills.

Can I help you? a male voice asks from behind me. I can’t believe it, but I almost jump out of my skin. Don’t know what got into me. I whirl around to find a tall brown-skinned man with really deep dark eyes whom I hadn’t seen the last time I was here. He must be the new sales guy.

Yeah, uh, yes, I stutter without pausing to think. I’m looking for a guitar.

For you? he asks matter-of-factly.

I hesitate before answering. What am I doing? I can’t even identify the strings of the guitar. I can only play one-half song! I bite back my pride, hoping he won’t ask anything about tones or whatever.

Yes.

What price range are you looking at? Another awkward moment. I hate to admit that I want the cheapest product anywhere, but I don’t have a choice. A guitar is not a necessity and I am working on a budget. Again, I bite back the sour taste of my pride being drained from me.

Umm … What’s the lowest you’ve got?

He smiles at me charmingly and grabs a guitar from the hook and starts to play around with it, hitting some high notes, then lower ones. I guess that’s what they call tuning a guitar.

This is a good one. And it only costs one ninety, he announces. Only costs one hundred and ninety Euros! Who does he take me for, a millionaire? Is it the English accent? French people always think English people are rich. And I’m not even really English—St. Lucian, to be exact. I chew on my bottom lip in agitation. I absolutely hate to disappoint cute salesmen.

I remember when I went into the optician’s place once, just to check out the range of prices, and ended up buying three pairs of eyeglasses on credit, just because the sales guy was super cute and he had deep gray eyes, which looked right into me. I broke a pair two weeks later just so I could bring it back and probably flirt with him. Of course, I dressed to kill. When I got there a nerdy man in thick Coke-bottle glasses told me Mr. Cute Sales Guy no longer worked there.

So, he’s fixing me with a brown stare awaiting my response. What the heck am I going to say? I can’t buy this guitar now. I only have one fifty and I can’t exactly ask him to give me a discount. I’ll look cheap and broke—the latter of which I am. Maybe I could just smile and tell him I’ll come back for it. I try to think fast, casting a glance at the gray-haired lady at the counter, who isn’t paying us any attention. Just as well.

Hmm? he insists, and I turn to face him. His hair looks so soft and curly and he has the cutest birthmark ever on his left cheek. Heck, I’m gonna’ take that guitar!

How did I end up in this music shop that would change my life for good? It’s so complicated that I don’t even really want to get into it. But just so you understand what my life was like before I bought my precious guitar, I’m going to tell you.

It all started a week ago when my boyfriend, Moham, introduced me to his old guitar and taught me one of his compositions that I fell in love with, as I had with him. I was really pissed off that day after having not seen him for the last two weeks. But when I held his old guitar in my arms for the first time, I realized that was exactly the distraction I needed to avoid feeling so lonely and abandoned. The feeling of power that came with holding an instrument with so much authority was exhilarating.

I guess since I mentioned Moham, now I have to tell you more. Okay … I met Moham two and a half months ago. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, having just gotten out of two confusing, complicated relationships and survived a heartbreak (that’s no longer important). We met at a rollerblading rink and made an appointment to go rollerblading together the next week. I didn’t think anything of him at first, just that he seemed nice, had a nice muscular body—and that I didn’t want a