Romance Inc.

By Sarah Gilmour

Some times in life things dont always go as planned, when Sarah wakes up alone, abandon in the night her world falls apart. Instead of wallowing unhappy Sarah decides to computer date and soon meets some interesting characters. Sarah learns from Maria her new dynamic boss and starts her own company Romance Inc.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467035118

Sarah Gilmour

Sarah Gilmour, currently lives in Ottawa, Ontario with her dog Vie. She moved to Ottawa from Toronto to become a Florist. This is her first book. Yes boys she is still single.

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Romance Inc.

Sarah Gilmour

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2011 by Sarah Gilmour. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 09/07/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4670-3502-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-3511-8 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011916309

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Sarah Gilmour

2900 Carling Ave. #204

Ottawa, Ontario

K2B 7J6

613-363-7403 [e-mail]

Contents

Day 1—A Monday

Day 2—A Tuesday

Day 3—A Wednesday

Day 4—A Thursday

Day 5—A Friday

Day 6—A Saturday

Day 7—A Sunday

Day 8—A Monday

Day 10—A Wednesday

Day 13—A Saturday

Day 14—A Sunday

Day 15—A Monday

Day 16—a Tuesday

Day 17-Wednesday

Day 18—A Thursday

Day 19—A Friday

Day 20—A Saturday

Day 21—A Sunday

Day 23-Tuesday

Day 24—A Wednesday

Day 25—A Thursday

Day 27—A Saturday

Day 31 Wednesday

Thursday—November 1st

Day 33—A Friday

Saturday—Day 34

Day 35—A Sunday

Day 36—A Monday

November 6th—A Tuesday

November 7th—A Wednesday

November 8th—A Thursday

November 9th—A Friday

Day 1—A Monday

I opened my eyes to the morning and scanned them around the interior of bedroom, when my eyes finally came to rest on the place in the bed next to me I knew instinctually that Ike was gone and not coming back. This was the first time in our almost one year relationship that after staying over he had not woken up beside me. I sat up slowly and clutched a handful of my nighty over my heart, pushed the sheets aside and stood up. I glanced down at the floor willing my legs to move the distance to the kitchen. My short black lace trimmed nighty danced around me feeling smooth on my creamy skin, and footstep after footstep I walked toward my fate.

There it was on the little breakfast table leaning against a square vase of pink roses, a note. I pulled out the little wooden chair and sat down, I reached for the folded note and read my name, Sarah, penned neatly on the front in black ink; I traced my thumb over it before I opened it. I read slowly and my mind began to process the information. Sadly with a sinking in my heart I realized why Ike had left, I was as he put it, the kind of person who would never live up to their potential. He was referring to how I had lost my job as a waitress at the Silver Spoon Café only days before. So there it was, the reason that the first real relationship of my life had ended. After the best year of my life getting fired had ruined our relationship.

I walked the short distance to the bathroom. I felt dirty from the night before; did he have to make love to me to realize that he wasn’t in love anymore? I felt violated as I turned the shower on, I stood under the tap and the hot water rushed over me, wetting my hair and making it heavy, I started to cry softly, hurt and angry. Putting shampoo in my hair I came to the realization that I did not want to wear the perfume that Ike had gotten me for my birthday anymore. Since I had nothing else to do I decided that I would take myself shopping for a small bottle of perfume. After applying a coin-sized amount of conditioner to my hair I picked up a loofa and scrubbed at myself vigorously standing free of the rush of the water. Scrubbing had not made me feel better and I was getting to pink so I turned off the shower. I pulled across the shower curtain and moved my eyes around the little bathroom, I stepped over the tub and proceeded to wipe my feet on the green bathmat. I picked up my clean, neatly folded little pink towel from the edge of the sink and wrapped it snugly around my bosom after quickly drying my body. I had stopped crying and was now composed.

After returning to the little kitchen I surveyed it, noticing little faults that I also noticed in the bathroom. I groaned about how I was going to feel about the bedroom. I poured my cup of coffee on the marred counter top into a mug that had a heart for a handle, I added sugar from a dish that my grandmother had given me and milk from the carton that I took from the fridge and made it sweet how I liked it. I took a big gulp and set the mug on the kitchen table, next to the letter, and walked across the living room to turn the radio on. Melody filled the air. I walked down the hall to the bedroom. I started to make the bed but ended up tearing the sheets off and throwing the comforter on the chair where I leave it when I change the sheets.

I could not remember the last time I was this unhappy. I moved around the room dressing for my shopping trip. I chose skinny-legged black jeans a belt with a buckle that spelled love in the shape of a heart and a long sleeve black v-neck shirt that I tucked in. I combed through my hair and blow-dried it putting it in a ponytail with a fur elastic that I got on sale for two dollars. I put on some make-up in the bathroom mirror and thought horrifically that crying had made my eyes really puffy. I carefully applied pink lip-gloss by kiss and make-up. I cringed at my reflection but under the circumstances it was the best I could do.

The perfume store was on a tree-lined street with fancy black lanterns. I had never been in it, only walked by. I put my hand on the shiny golden handle and paused for a minute to absorb the haunted reflection of myself in the glass. The interior of the store was a plethora of different size, shape and colour of bottles. The sales assistant was a pretty blonde with shoulder length hair, taller than myself with blue eyes and dimples. I guessed she was in her early forties but it was hard to judge. She looked up when I walked in.

Hello Miss, she said greeting me while simultaneously hiding her fashion Magazine.

Hello, I said with some melancholy. I just got dumped and I really don’t want to wear the perfume he bought me. Before I met him I never wore perfume… I’m addicted to wearing it now so I’ve decided to choose a small bottle. Can I choose from three or four of the smallest bottles?

Of course, she said.

She reached under the counter and when her hands reappeared she was holding a little silver tray, which she placed on the wooden counter top.

She walked over to the wooden ladder and pushed it over to where there was a tiny pink bottle of perfume half way up the wall. She climbed three steps up the ladder and grabbed the tiny bottle. She smiled at me triumphantly as she placed it on the tray. She moved the ladder over to where there was a tiny blue bottle on the top shelf, she gracefully attained the bottle and climbed back down the ladder. She placed the blue bottle beside the pink bottle on the silver tray. It took a second for her to add a small green bottle of perfume to the tray.

One more bottle, she said. She turned around and moved the ladder to the opposite side of the store. She climbed up the ladder one last time and seized a tiny red bottle.

You’ll love this one! she said placing it on the tray. Ok, I’ll spray a sprits and you tell me what you think… she gesticulated with her hands like the French do. She methodically sprayed sprits from each perfume bottle on a white card, waved it quickly like she was fanning herself and placed it leaning against the bottle.

There. She pushed her hand at me as if to say, go ahead.

I looked at the little cards and decided to smell the card leaning against the blue bottle first, then the green, then the pink and last the red.

Oh I do like the red it’s a melange of summer rain when the air is hot and cool at the same time, what does it say? Seraph. I placed it back on the tray and the sales associate smiled at me and spoke.

Would you like to take a bottle of the Seraph then? You know that it is made by Inka L. the model. She spoke like she was revealing a secret.

No I didn’t know.

Once again she climbed up the ladder and this time came down with a tiny red box. She walked over to the register, scanned the box, wrapped it in tissue and placed it in a little black bag. She tied the handles together with red ribbon.

Voila. She said placing the bag to the left of me on the counter. Thirty-six dollars please.

I reached into my little handbag and took out forty-dollars and handed it to the sales associate.

Thank you for all your help. I said as she handed me back my four dollars.

I took the long way home to clear my head. I kept repeating the words how could he do this to me? over and over. I wasn’t angry just disappointed really, hurt. I decided to do a little more shopping; I wanted flowers to cheer me up. I felt like a patient in a hospital bed after having love removed and the only thing that could solace me was flowers. I wanted a bottle of wine but what I really needed was something for dinner. I thought the words You need to eat, I pulled my black mohair hat down with my free hand and kept walking.

The