A Novel Romance Novel

By Derek Elkins

Long Description: Harmonica Carlisle was a rich, beautiful freshman starting her journey at Sacagawea State University. Coming off a bad relationship, she wanted nothing more than to concentrate on her classes and prepare herself for what lay in her future...until she meant him. Florentine Montgomery was poor, annoying and socially awkward. He was everything Harmonica didn't need. But with his shining beautiful eyes and handsome carved face, he was everything she had to have.
A Novel Romance Novel is a parody of romance novels. This was written to gently poke fun at the soap opera atmosphere of romance novels that take themselves way too serious. If you like twists and turns in your romance novels, this will be the craziest ride you've ever taken. I had a great time writing it and hope you have fun reading it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bard and Book
• Release date: Oct 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310307126

Derek Elkins

Award winning author Derek Elkins is also a member of the Bard and Book author community at www.bardandbook.com.

Book preview

A Novel Romance Novel

by Derek Elkins

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Copyright Derek Elkins 2014. All Rights Reserved

Published by Bard and Book Publishing.

Website: www.bardandbook.com

Cover by Julius Broqueza.

Contents

Chapter One – A Whiff of Whimsy

Chapter Two – Tune of the Tortured Heart

Chapter Three – A Dream in Silhouettes

Chapter Four – Untamed Forests of the Heart

Chapter Five – Love’s Fleeting Grasp

Chapter Six – A Cacophony of Love

Chapter Seven – In Pursuit of the Wild Heart

Chapter Eight – A Majestic Festering

Chapter Nine – Grasping Petals

Chapter Ten – A Whispering From Heaven

Chapter One

A Whiff of Whimsy

Dear Diary,

I finally did it. I’m free, on my own, away to college. Sure, it’s a little scary, but Gee Whiz!!!!, I’m a big girl now. I can do things my way. Make my OWN decisions. Butter my own durn bread if I wanted it buttered or put jelly on it or whatever...maybe marmalade. I am free and I will never be shackled to the parents of tyranny again for I am my own woman. I belong. I am strong. And I am bound to get the friction on. (Whoop, whoop!)

To be honest, there are a few things I will miss from my old life. Peter Malark for one. Oh, Peter, with your large, lush lips almost like they were painted on by a Rolling Stone’s roadie. And your short stubby legs and barrel chest. (You always reminded me of what you’d get if a leprechaun and a blacksmith had mated.) I’ll certainly miss our quiet rendezvous in our special booth down at Denny’s.

And how could I forget Gayle Haythorne? Oh, Gayle I still dream of your beautiful gold-flecked eyes. I sometimes imagine I see a host of angels holding flaming butane torches and dancing some rugged, aquatic number from deep within their depths. Just thinking of those precious, precious orbs makes me all quivery and sets my heart beating like I had been dragged a mile by a wild unicorn of love.

And, of course, I’ll never forget the Emporia High School Boy’s Lacrosse team. That special night we spent together will always be in my heart. I think I’ll miss you boys the most. (Go, Emporia Jockeys!)

Well, my first few days at Sacagawea State University has certainly been eventful. At Freshman Orientation, I felt like a clown. First, my hair coloring backfired and my golden locks were marred into a hideous bright orange. Then, I couldn’t find my regular shoes, size three flats, so I had to wear my back-up shoes, which were my father’s size thirteen boaters. My belt broke, so I had to wear my red with white polka dotted suspenders. And to top it all off, I tripped getting out of the car and smacked my face on the cement, causing my nose to enlarge several sizes and turn a bright shade of red. I received a few stares and quite a few requests for balloon animals, I can tell you.

After getting my schedule from the registrar’s office (Yeah! I got into Sasquology 101!!!), I finally got to meet my new roommate. Her name is Loretta Stubbins and she’s from this small town in North Carolina. She’s seems pretty nifty, but she has this huge thing right below her eye. She said it was a pimple, but I don’t know. I’ve never seen a pimple that size or shape before. It reminded me of Mount Rushmore and I’ve never even been to Canada.

Anyway, she said she’d take the top bunk, which is all right in my book. But she did warn me that she suffered from Nocturnal Tourettes. I kinda brushed it off not knowing what it was. But I found out that first night. (Boy did I ever!)

I was deep in sleep, right in the middle of that one dream where I’m Mary Todd Lincoln and Brad Pitt is Abe, and he’s all making the moves on me and I’m all like, We can’t right now, Mr. President and he’s all like, But I’ve been waiting four score and seven years for this, and I’m all like, But there’s a civil war going on and he’s all like Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. And right when it was starting to get to the good part (y’know, where Brad starts painting my toenails and singing that old Irish sea shanty), I heard this really loud noise.

I woke up and it’s Lorretta and, at first, I thought she was awake and talking to someone in the room. (Kinda freaked me out. Thought I was in one of those exorcist movies) But then she started saying some really crazy things like, chicken, underwear, fart-wearing pillow grabbers. They can all move to Malarkey for all I care. At least that’s what I thought she said. It got a little confusing, especially after the second malarkey.

After a couple more hours of her yelling stuff at people who weren’t there, I decided to put the old earphones in and let Barry Manilow rock me gently back to dreamland. (Oh Mandy. Well you came and you gave me some bacon…) When I got there, Brad was gone, but it was that other dream where I was the understudy to Julie Andrews in the Broadway production of My Fair Lady and I had just received word that Julie had swallowed a cup of sulfuric acid by mistake and I had to go right on, but I couldn’t remember most of my lines and the dress was really riding up in the crotch.

At six-thirty sharp, we got up on time thanks to my old reliable alarm clock and first thing I did is look at the calendar to make sure it wasn’t that Daylight Savings Time again (fool me twice, shame on you). And it wasn’t (Thank you, God). And then I went to check on Mort, and he was already up and running strong on that little hamster wheel of his. Nothing gets that little guy down, not a change of surroundings, not a drop in temperature, not even an accidental overdose of radon gas. He was always up and moving and he always had a big smile for me (at least I hope it’s a smile).

I checked my schedule (classes start tomorrow) and saw breakfast was just about to be over. I mean, who eats at six-thirty in the morning, am I right? I tried to get Loretta up but she wouldn’t move at all. She wasn’t even snoring and her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. I can’t believe anyone could sleep like that. It was creepy. So, I left her. I figured that if she was hungry, she’d get up.

I spent the rest of the day wandering around campus looking for where my classes were located. I think I may have gotten a little lost as the next thing I knew I found myself in this old, broken-down building in this long line. In front and behind me were these really old gross guys with big beards, missing teeth and this one guy had a hanger for an arm. (And man, did they stink) I thought I was in the line for textbooks, but when I got to the front, this priest handed me a bowl of soup and a roll and made me sit down at this cafeteria table between these two smelly, old guys (who, I found out later, were named Rocky and Snooker). I got out of there as fast as I could (after eating the soup of course – mama didn’t raise no fool).

Finally got back to my dorm at eight that night. Had to get the campus police to take me home. But they were really nice. The big one’s name was Frank and he said he’d like to show me his tattoo some time but as he was sitting right now, it wasn’t very accessible. And the smaller guy with the shifty eyes who kept waving his pepper spray around was named Herb, I think. I don’t know. He didn’t talk much. But he sure did enjoy yelling profanities at people.

I got back to my room a little bit later (had to go to the floor monitor’s room twice because I had lost my keys and then he gave me the wrong key and when I got back to get the right one, he had all these candles lit and was in his boxers…GROSS!) Loretta was still in her same spot, still staring at the ceiling, so I let her sleep. I figured she must have been really tired to have slept this long. Maybe she’s one of those joggers and she was really worn out or something. I don’t know.

It smelled a little in the room though. I thought it was Mort, but he was clean…well, clean enough. I’d have to talk with Loretta about that tomorrow. Maybe she had some socks that smelled or something.

That’s it for tonight, diary. Need my sleep for my first day of classes. Wish me luck!

Harmonica Carlisle was dreaming about sunshine and lollipops again. She was just about ready to hit that part where the sun, sporting a blazer, top hat and handlebar mustache was at the bus stop and the lollipop gang pulled up on their scooters and punched the sun in the gut when the alarm clock went off.

Her blue green eyes, like a Caribbean lagoon’s waters stirred gently by a rampaging typhoon, snapped open and she was instantly awake. It was a trick she had developed from back when she was just a strawberry-blond haired baby. There was no slow dawdling out of sleep for Harmonica, no casual traipsing through the loganberry bushes in search of Mr. Wakey for her. Oh no.

Her father, for some unknown reason, had drilled the instant wakefulness into her at the fresh age of three. If he wasn’t creeping into her room at sunrise to shoot off his shotgun directly outside her crib, he was waking her up in the dead of night for snipe hunting and a game of guarding the perimeter while Daddy stole carrots from their neighbor’s garden. Thank goodness she was finally away from Daddy and his exotic habits.

The first thing she noticed besides the bright August sunlight streaming in between the cracked and yellowed blinds of her dorm room was that peculiar odor, the same one she had been attacked by last night, only stronger now, like it had regrouped and come back for seconds.

Harmonica sprang out of bed like a fleet footed gazelle, banging her forehead off the top bunk only once and bounced to her dresser. She glanced over at her hamster Mort to make certain he was still alive.

Oh Mort, she huffed, her aesthetically pleasing voice cascading around the room like a waterfall run amok. I hope it’s not you that’s making that awful smell. I’d hate to have to give you a bath.

Mort glanced back with beedy eyes which might have been saying, How dare you insinuate that I, Mort the hamster, could be responsible for such a foul odor! Why, I should have you drawn and quartered for that, peasant! Or perhaps he was simply thinking, Are you gonna remember to feed me today, ditz?

Whatever thoughts were running through the hamster’s mind were not open to Harmonica that morning as she neither spoke fluent hamster nor was she able to read his tiny lips. On a side note, Mort was a girl. She had been from the moment she was born but had failed miserably in alerting her master to this fact, try as she might.

Harmonica giggled, absently throwing some hamster pellets at Mort’s cage, of which maybe five made it in and the rest fell to the floor or behind the dresser, as she turned to her bunk and froze immediately.

Her roommate, Loretta, was still lying in the same position, eyes open and staring at the ceiling, mouth cracked and spilling saliva, hair matted and stuck to the side of her head. Just like she had been for the last few days.

Get up, sillyhead, Harmonica said, giggling some more for good luck. It’s the first day of classes. You don’t want to be late for the first day.

Loretta just laid there like the sillyhead she was.

After no response, Harmonica shrugged and gathered her clothes, make-up bag, goggles, hairdryer, towel, rubber ducky and assorted extras in search of the (Gasp!) community shower. If Loretta wanted to sleep in on the first day of classes, that was her problem. But Harmonica Carlisle was coming, world, so you better get ready!

After a quick shower, a lengthy period of getting her make up just to proper specifications, blond tresses dried just enough to spring into their naturally curly shape, and a last minute decision to forego the cream and navy blue blouse with frayed edges and matching squirt in favor of a different ensemble consisting of a pair of comfortable tan shorts, matching pumps and a t-shirt emblazoned with a picture of Harry Potter kissing the Cookie Monster with the slogan, Making Magic Cookies, Harmonica Carlisle finally made it out of the dorm where the fabled land of Dining Hall stood waiting for her arrival eagerly with baited breath and anticipation that dripped from its crooked maw like Stephen Hawking attempting to slurp down a gallon of rice pudding.

As soon as she stepped one sculpted and perfected ankle into the dank and soulless room where many a lonely college student had wasted half of their life, all conversation ceased and all eyes turned towards her, or more correctly the eyes turned to look at Mr. Androgeny, the Dining Hall Monitor, who had just been flung into the broom closet by the door Harmonica had shot open. Harmonica, in complete Harmonica fashion, giggled and sprang toward the food line like a spring-footed kangaroo on nitrous oxide.

The pimply faced embarrassments that certainly must have had names quickly scooted out of her way as Harmonica slid her tray down the triple-metallic bars, snatching up yogurt and an organic pear (Franklin, those Albanians have stolen my garden again, as her father often said) as she moved toward the enormous lady with curlers festooning her hair and an expression that clearly stated, I hate all children, especially teenagers, young adults and I am not at all pleased with dogs dressed like pirates either.

Do you have a meal card? The lady asked with hooded eyes that clearly said, I wish I was anywhere but here. Say, like the grocery store or watching Nascar.

This, for some reason, made Harmonica giggle harder than ever. Oh silly, I don’t need a green card. I was born here.

Apparently the lunch lady, whose name was Arianna Worthington, the oil heiress that moonlit as a lunch lady, had heard many an annoying quip, sometimes repeated several times by pimply faced little turds who thought they were being funny. She didn’t bat a heavily-mascared eye lash. That’ll be $2.50.

Harmonica giggled, paid and bounced away to find a free table or at least one that was occupied by semi-attractive people. Yeah, good luck with that one.

* * *

Harmonica checked her schedule for the eighteenth time that morning to refresh her memory of the name and location of her first class. The class was named Liberation Celebration, and was