Butterflies And Lovebirds

By Christiane France

Butterflies and Lovebirds includes a paranormal romance, two tales involving the reunion of childhood sweethearts, and a teacher-student relationship with a different twist.

The Butterfly Girl:

Tim Braiden needs somewhere quiet to finish his latest book and, hopefully, get back into his editor's good graces. Somewhere as far from the party scene and his drinking buddies as possible. A cottage on an uninhabited island set in the middle of a remote lake appears to be the perfect answer to his problem—until he arrives on the island and meets sexy, Marigold Fraser, a wildlife artist who specializes in paintings of Monarch butterflies. From the moment they meet, Tim knows Marigold is no ordinary girl. Marigold is special, magical, every man's ideal woman, who quickly takes over his dreams, his life, and finally his heart.

Ciao, Ciao Bambina:

Turning failing companies into winners doesn’t leave Dani Stevens with a lot of time for herself. It certainly doesn’t allow her time to find a man with whom she can indulge her sexual fantasies. But then Dani goes to Las Vegas on business and is recognized by a man she hasn’t seen since they were both kids. Twenty years ago, Roberto Ventura was Dani’s first love, and she was his, and they were both devastated when circumstances forced them to part. But can a teenage crush survive a 20-year separation?  Especially now when Roberto is Vegas’ latest heartthrob, a handsome, sexy, Italian singer who can have any woman he wants.

Something To Talk About:

As far as English teacher, Maddy Anderson, was concerned, her relationship with post-grad student, Ty Jarrett, was perfectly proper in every way. She was helping Ty get his book ready for publication out of the goodness of her heart and that was all. However, Maddy’s best friend, Karen, and Karen’s bank manager husband, Dennis, and some of their friends, viewed the relationship in a whole different light. It didn’t matter to them that Maddy and Ty were both over 21, unattached and free to do whatever they pleased. In their opinion any teacher and student relationship was wrong, and spending long hours alone at the teacher’s house was the worst—an unhealthy situation that just begged to be talked about.

Proud Mary:

Jamie McMahon and Mary Bonelli fell in love in junior school and promised they’d get married when they grew up. However, different careers have taken them in different directions, and their relationship has dwindled to the point where Jamie figures its game over. That is until Mary’s grandfather dies and Mary returns home. But has she come back merely to honor the promise she made to her grandfather to take over the family restaurant? Or is she finally ready to keep the promise she made to Jamie the night of their high school prom? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christiane France
• Release date: Aug 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386314981

Book preview

The Butterfly Girl

When Tim Braiden got to Dusty’s Bar, he grabbed a beer from the bartender and took it over to where he’d noticed the owner, Steve Porter, sitting at one of the tables in back. Steve was eating a sandwich lunch while he watched sports on the widescreen TV.

Something wrong? Steve asked, turning around as Tim slammed his drink on the table and threw himself into the other chair.

Tim shrugged. He wished he could blow things off as easily as other people seemed able to do, instead of taking everything so personally. I’ve just been on the phone with Polly, my editor.

And?

He shrugged again.

She giving you a hard time or something?

You could say that. Tim grimaced and reached for his beer. He wasn’t in the habit of sharing his troubles with all and sundry, but he needed to talk to someone and Steve had always been a good listener. Either I deliver the complete manuscript of my next book to her by the end of this month, or I can find myself a new publisher.

She actually said that?

Words to that effect.

But I thought you were one of their top writers, Steve protested. You’ve won a ton of awards and your books are always on the bestseller list.

Tim took a long swallow of his brew, put the bottle down on the table and leaned back in his chair. Tell her that. As far as Ms. Polly is concerned—and the woman can be a real bitch at times—none of that counts. I’ve missed two deadlines without what she feels are acceptable explanations, so now I’m on her blacklist. She says I’m unpredictable and irresponsible and, unless I mend my ways fast, that’s it for me. Her files are full of wannabees who’re more than capable of stepping into my shoes, etcetera, etcetera.

You think that’s true?

About me being replaceable? Tim shrugged. He could understand Polly being ticked off about him missing deadlines, but that was no excuse for her to treat him like a naughty toddler. As an adult and one of the publisher’s best money makers, he thought the very least he deserved was a little slack. Anything’s possible, I guess. But maybe not quite as easily as Ms. Polly would like me to believe. He sighed and reached again for his beer. I admit I’ve probably been overdoing it lately on the party circuit. Too many late nights, too much booze. But writing is damned hard work. It’s not a nine-to-five job. I have to relax and have a little fun once in a while, don’t I?

Steve frowned and ran a hand over his fashionably tousled, short brown hair. Maybe she was just putting you on.

I don’t think so. Tim had yet to see the tall, blonde, bespectacled editor crack a smile, let alone loosen up sufficiently to make a joke. I have a nasty suspicion that woman doesn’t make idle threats. I doubt she’d even know how. So, like it or not, I have to get busy and finish the book within the next four weeks or face the consequences.

Memories of another telephone conversation with Polly earlier in the week made Tim smile. His brain foggy with lack of sleep and too much alcohol, he’d not only mistaken the uptight, upright Polly for a sassy redhead he’d met at a party the previous night, he’d tried to engage the poor woman in a bout of very hot and wickedly explicit phone sex.

The moment he’d realized his mistake, he’d apologized profusely, but Polly hadn’t seen the humor in the situation or accepted Tim’s apology—she’d hung up on him. In fact, Tim had a feeling that call was the real reason behind today’s ultimatum, rather than his failure to deliver on time.

Think you can pull it off? Steve asked. Four weeks isn’t very long.

I know. Tim sucked down another mouthful of the refreshing, ice-cold beer. I just have to find some place quiet and as far from here and temptation as possible, where I can shut out the world and write without interruption. And it’ll also have to be somewhere real cheap. Any ideas?

Steve’s expression became thoughtful. Not offhand I don’t.

If his finances were in better shape, Tim could have booked into a quiet country hotel somewhere and holed up there for the next month. But with his credit cards maxed out from partying and the balance of his advance on hold because of his failure to meet his publisher’s deadlines, he didn’t have that kind of money. What about that summer place your dad bought last year?

What about it?

It’s still early in the season. Think there’s a chance they’d loan me that for a few weeks?

I’m sure they would, Steve said slowly. But I doubt you’d want to go all the way up there. It’s miles from anywhere. Literally in the back of beyond. Not exactly what you’re used to.

It’s somewhere up north. Right?

The cottage is on an island in the middle of a lake—about a thirty-mile drive west through the bush from Burks Falls. It’s great for a weekend, but I don’t think I’d want to be stuck there for a whole month.

Does it have electricity?

A propane generator.

Sounds good to me. The middle of nowhere is exactly what I need.

You think? Life on an island can get very lonely very fast, Steve warned. There’s nothing to do if you’re bored, or if the weather turns bad. No bright lights. No bars. No broads. Nothing but you and the great outdoors.

Tim forced himself to consider the positive aspects of complete isolation. With no one but himself there, no phone ringing night and day, and none of the usual interruptions, he could probably finish the book in less than four weeks. That’s the whole point. I’ll have to keep far away from life as I know it if I want to make Polly’s deadline. The island sounds perfect. I’m assuming there’s a boat I can use to get back and forth to the mainland?

Steve shook his head. Right now, we don’t have a boat up there.

What about the neighbors?

There are none. Just a couple of rental properties on the far side of the island, but from what I’ve heard no one’s stayed there in a while.

Why not? I thought there was a big demand for rentals during the summer.

There is. But... Steve hesitated. Some people seem to believe the island’s haunted.

Tim stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. Haunted? You’ve got to be kidding. Have you ever seen anything?

Steve joined in his laughter. If you mean have I seen any ghosts, then no. There aren’t any. I think it’s just a tall tale the locals like to tell anyone who is stupid enough to listen. But once a thing like that gets started...

Along comes someone who swears he or she saw something, Tim finished. And if you’re really unlucky, all their friends join in and swear they saw it, too.

Do you believe in ghosts? Steve asked.

Tim considered the question. I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about it.

So these rumors wouldn’t bother you?

Why should they? Even if ghosts exist, so what? They can’t hurt anyone—they’re dead. Anyway, who’s supposed to be doing this haunting?

Steve shrugged. The way I heard it, a woman disappeared after telling a friend she was going over to the island. There’s no proof she actually went over there, but you know how stories get better and better with each retelling, especially in remote country areas where nothing much happens.

You think the local people create their own entertainment by inventing ghosts?

Why not? It gives them something to talk about on a cold winter night.

When did this woman disappear?

A few years ago, I guess. I don’t know the exact date.

And the rumors started right after she went missing?

All I know is that, when Dad bought the cottage last year, the previous owners told him stories were making the rounds about the island being haunted. They hadn’t seen anything themselves, but they said a woman who’d rented one of the cottages the previous summer insisted she had. In fact, she took off after only staying there a few nights.

Maybe she really did see a ghost.

Steve laughed. I doubt it. I think it had something to do with the condition of the cottage. Those places are barely habitable. Four walls, a roof and minimum everything else. On a scale of one to ten, they might rate a two. Dad figures the tenant heard about the woman who disappeared and made up the ghost to get back at the owner for overcharging.

And like all good stories, I imagine it just went on from there, getting better and better every time it was told.

So it would seem. But I can assure you there are no ghosts. It’s a beautiful, quiet, little island. Nothing spooky about it at all.

So, how do I get to this island paradise if you don’t have a boat?

After our last boat was stolen, Dad made a deal with the owner of a fishing camp on the mainland to ferry us back and forth.

Okay. But if this guy gets sick or I break my leg or something, I’ll be stranded. Right?

No. We have a couple of emergency numbers if Pete’s not available. Steve hesitated. Forget it, Tim. You’re too much of a city guy to stand being all alone on a small island like that, miles from civilization. You’d spend more time worrying about being stranded or something going wrong than you would working on your book.

He gave what sounded to Tim like an unnecessarily evil chuckle as he leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper. Think about it, bro. Four weeks alone, without a woman. I’m betting you can’t survive a week without a little sex to spice up your life, let alone a whole month. Absolutely not. No way. You’ll go stark, raving mad. Guaranteed, he teased.

Says who?

Says me. Bet you a hundred bucks you won’t last more than a couple of days up there on your own.

As a healthy, thirty-two year old male, with what he considered to be normal sexual appetites, Tim enjoyed women. He certainly wasn’t one to pass up any opportunities, and four weeks with no sex sounded like a lifetime. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t go without sex for a while. He had to go without. The island was his only option if he was truly serious about making his publisher’s deadline and saving his career. He sat up straight and held out a hand. You’re on, buddy. Call your dad.

Steve grinned as he picked up his cell phone off the table and balanced it on the palm of his hand. You quite sure about this? No leaving the island unless it’s a medical emergency, so it’ll be like solitary confinement for a whole month. No girls, no parties, no sex.

I’m positive, Tim said firmly. No problem. Provided he didn’t think about sex, he’d be fine. He could do anything once he set his mind to it.

And no cheating. By that, I mean no sneaking any women over to the island. Agreed?

Tim held out his hand. Agreed.

Okay then. Steve shook Tim’s hand, and Tim watched as his friend dialed a number. If you want to throw away a hundred bucks, who am I to argue? Hi, Dad? Steve here.

After a brief conversation with his father, Steve ended the call and put the phone back on the table. "Dad says their plans for this summer won’t include a lot of cottage time, so you can have the place for as long as you need it. He’ll arrange with Pete to open up the cottage and make sure everything’s okay. Pete’ll take you over in his boat when you get there and then come back for you at the end of the four weeks.

Like I said, the cottage has its own generator, so you can keep your cell phone and your laptop charged. But there’s no land line, so I hope you can manage without the internet for the four weeks.

That won’t be a problem because I have a wireless connection to the internet.

Great. But if you run out of any supplies or there’s a problem with anything at the cottage, call Pete and he’ll take care of it. Steve hesitated, then he grinned and leaned back in his chair. Of course, if you can’t take being on your own and want to come back before the four weeks are up, you’ll have to call me.

And let the whole world have a good laugh at his expense? Not a chance, Tim assured himself.

*          *          *

Two days later, Tim stood on the strip of weathered boards that made up Monarch Island’s small dock with an array of boxes and bags at his feet, and watched as Pete and his boat rocketed back to the mainland through the choppy waters.

Once the sound of the motor faded away, all he could hear was the gentle lapping of the waves against the dock, the buzz of insects and the distant call of a bird. He lifted his face to the sun and let the peace and quiet of the island wash over him like a cleansing breeze. Maybe after a few days, he’d be yearning for the traffic sounds and exhaust fumes that made up city life, but right now, this was exactly what he needed.

An unexpected rustling in the undergrowth made him tense. He looked around quickly, frustrated when he couldn’t figure out where the sound came from or what had caused it. The rustling stopped, and a couple of chipmunks scampered out from under the bushes. They paused to look at him for a brief moment, then they turned and Tim found himself staring at their fat little butts as they hustled off.

After spending his entire life in the rush and bustle of a city, Tim knew living alone on the island would take a little getting used to. Especially when his one and only previous experience of life in the great outdoors was a couple of weeks spent at Boy Scout camp when he was a kid. Steve expected him to fail; so did Polly. But Tim had already promised himself that wasn’t going to happen. Give him a couple of days to get himself organized and acclimatized to life country style, and he’d be fine.

He’d noticed on the way over in the boat that most of the island was covered in pine trees with a few patches of scrub here and there along the shoreline. It was also much bigger than Tim had expected—about a mile across at its widest point according to Pete, who’d also told Tim he didn’t have to worry about getting lost as there was a pathway of sorts running around the entire perimeter,

Just then, a pretty red butterfly landed on one of his sneakers, and he kept perfectly still while it skimmed along one of the untied laces. With a quick flutter of its gauzy wings, the delicate creature took off to check out the boxes. A moment later, it flew back and began examining his other shoe. Tim smiled, enjoying the butterfly’s antics as it hovered for a moment, then zoomed off again, obviously intent on urgent butterfly business.

The butterfly’s aggressive, flirty behavior reminded Tim of a girlfriend he’d had back in high school. Gloria had been exactly like that—flirting outrageously one minute and giving him the come-on, then taking to her heels the instant things showed signs of turning serious.

The butterfly reappeared, confirming what Tim was already starting to work out for himself. He might be the only human on the island, but he wasn’t completely alone. He’d only been here a few minutes and already he’d been treated to a welcoming committee composed of insect songs, a couple of chipmunks and now the friendly attentions of what could only be a female butterfly.

With the butterfly leading the way, he picked up a couple of the boxes and headed up the dirt path to the cottage. Set in a grassy clearing, the cottage was actually a three-bedroom, winterized a-frame house with a porch across the front.

He did a quick tour of the house. The first floor was comprised of a kitchen