Love Love Love

By Valerie J. Brooks, Patsy Hand and Chris Scofield

Three very different love stories—noir, magical, and quirky—because we always need more love.

•A wife takes her husband on a surprise anniversary trip that she knows is not where he wants to go. Will they survive to enjoy another year together?

•In the time of war, a classroom of children experiences no joy. Can one brave woman use her magic to take her students to a circus? War changes everything—or does it?

•When you're different, you still want love. But can you find someone who will love you when your nose is so big you smell every intimate scent—good or bad. (R-rated for sexual content.)
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valerie J. Brooks
• Release date: Feb 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393413950

Book preview

Love, Love, Love

Love, Love, Love

Three Very Different Love Stories

Valerie J. Brooks Patsy Hand Chris Scofield

Black Leather Jacket Press

Hotel deLuxe Copyright © 2019 by Valerie J. Brooks

Love in the Time of War Copyright © 2019 Patsy Hand

All About Oscar Copyright © 2019 Chris Scofield

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All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum Created with Vellum

For Lovers Everywhere

Contents

WEEKEND DELUXE

About this Story

Weekend deLuxe

If you liked this story …

LOVE IN THE TIME OF WAR

About My Writing

Love in the Time of War

If you liked this story …

ALL ABOUT OSCAR

About the Author

All about Oscar

If you liked this story …

WEEKEND DELUXE

Valerie J. Brooks

About this Story

In 2012, my husband and I decided to celebrate our anniversary with a two-night stay in Portland, Oregon. Since we live in a rural area outside Eugene Oregon, we're always in a car. I planned this getaway at a posh city hotel in Portland so that we could walk around the city to romantic eateries without getting in a car.

Weekend deLuxe was originally written for an online travel magazine that didn’t fly. I took an ordinary travel piece and fictionalized the story, creating a bio-fiction that veered off into noir land.

Weekend deLuxe played a significant role in creating part 2 of my femmes-noir thriller Revenge in 3 Parts, first in a series.

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Weekend deLuxe

We’re heading north on I-5. I’m driving while Dan sits working the crossword puzzle. He’s cranky. End-of-summer traffic whips by spewing smells of diesel and hot asphalt. A Santa Ana-like wind blows, covering the hairs on my arm with a fine dust. My hair’s a mess, but I don’t care. Soon we’ll be in the cool air conditioning of the hotel. Dan probably thinks I’m taking him to a quiet bungalow at the Oregon beach.

He’s wrong.

I've been planning this escape for months. Dan doesn't know our destination. Sure, I'm toying with him. I've left him so many clues Dashiell Hammett would have solved the mystery in a wink. But Dan's not Dash. He's just a working-class stiff with an eight to four. He's rugged with a fierce Celtic face that scares people at first meeting, yet he wouldn't hurt a fly. That's why I love him.

As I drive, I'm dying to tell him my big plans. But he hasn't even noticed I've painted my toenails Moulin Rouge red or that my hair has a new sexy cut. I look over at him, tempted to repeat that famous Kathleen Turner line: You're not too smart, are you? I like that in a man.

But he’s no dope. He’s just lost his sense of play, his sense of fun. As his lover, I’m going to turn up the heat. It’s my movie. He’s gonna remember this weekend for years to come—even if it kills me.

I pull up to the front of the Hotel deLuxe. He jolts awake. Portland? he says, glaring at me. If looks could kill . . .

Ah, I knew he was expecting the beach.

But I don't let this blow my good cheer. Three sharp-dressed valets descend on the car. One is a looker, and he opens my door and smiles. I smile as I hand him my keys.

Isn't this the Mallory? Dan asks as he glances up at the building. We've rendezvoused here for years, but he's in for a surprise.

One of the valets offers each of us a bottle of water, kept on ice near their station. Nice touch, I say. I hold my bottle to my forehead, then lock my arm through Dan’s. "It was the Mallory, I say. But now it’s the Hotel deLuxe."

The valets open the gorgeous scalloped-glass doors. Dan's jaws scissor back and forth. Relax, I say. Maybe later I'll give you a massage. He raises an eyebrow. As we walk up the carpeted stairs, mirrors reflect our entrance. In the lobby, I breathe in the cool, elegance of Art Deco—black and white furniture, the original Czechoslovakian crystal chandeliers, and a color palette that makes your mouth water—caramel, lavender, eggplant, apple green, and persimmon. As I check us in, Dan stares at the lobby's focal point—an oversized mirror of antique glass which frames a dramatic six-by-eight foot video wall where Marilyn Monroe is cooling herself off over a city vent. The famous photo from The Seven Year Itch. What are the chances that out of 400 rotating, vintage film stills, I walk