Countdown to Love

By Allyson R. Abbott

Mission: To find a man

Deadline: Valentine's Day

What could possibly go wrong for Marie, an accomplished project manager?

A Senior Romcom that will make you laugh out loud.

#1 International Bestselling Author
Pinnacle Award Winning Author
Finalist in OKRWA 'Contemporary Short' Book Awards
Readers' Favorite 5 star seal winner for six books

"Allyson R Abbott, a British Romance author, will make you laugh out loud at Marie's strong woman antics and straightforward ways, in this clean romantic comedy, with a little innuendo. The way she manipulates Richard, completely unaware of the boundaries of her neighbor's sexuality, is humorous and funny and sometimes cringe-worthy." Rachel

"This short story was a great little humorous read, with a big difference. It dispelled the normal love, lust and romance theory when looking for a relationship as Marie, the narrator decides at 59yrs old, she needs sex and fast…. Some very funny parts and easy to visualise scenes. I enjoyed the different approach and the typical English upper class characterizations of Marie". Erin

When Senior Project Manager, fifty-nine year old Marie, realizes that it's been way too long since having any kind of sexual relationship with anything other than her magic wand sex toy, she knows action is needed.

Using her professional training and organizational management skills, she sets about on a new project: Countdown to Love, using the forthcoming Valentine's Day as her deadline; hoping for some Valentines romance.

As an empathizer of being lonely, she also includes her lovely but quiet neighbor Richard into her project, since whom she assumes to have been his latest boyfirend has moved on. Marie is hoping to give his boring and lonely life a boost. Little does she know that fifty-one year old Richard also has his own project on the boards and she blithely ignores his world, while focusing on her mission to find them both dates / sex / love, in fact anything, before the Valentine Day deadline.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Allyson R. Abbott
• Release date: May 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393249528

Allyson R. Abbott

I 'm very lucky to have the indulgence of time and space to enable me to write. I took a sabbatical from work to accompany my partner on his bucket list travels and adventures, and never went back. I really thought I would struggle with all the free time, so decided to write to keep myself occupied. Now writing has consumed my time and I am never sure where we will be or when, hence my novels could be classed 'international' as they may have been written across a few countries. We are still travelling, although we do pop back to the UK for a few months every now and again. I love the fact that no matter what our age we can use new technology to connect to the rest of the world and enhance our lives. Back in the UK I have my friends and family and with emails, phones, Skype or face-time, we are never out of touch for long. Even my mother at eighty-six uses face-time to catch up with me. I have the world at my fingertips and only twenty-four hours away from anywhere. Being a 'mature aging gracefully' woman, I feel akin to the problems of aging and relationships. I spent many years on my own before finding my truly remarkable and very patient partner who I happily gave up my whole world for. My stories are about mature relationships with mature people. People who have character and humour, who have a history; people just like us. I like to call it Hen Lit, Not Chick Lit, but it is not just about falling in love. They are about real relationships. I hope you enjoy my stories. Please check my web page or social media pages if you would like to contact me. I love emails and try to answer every one as soon as possible.

Book preview

Countdown Stages

Project Brief

Preparation

Selection Process

Project Completion

Allyson’s New Series

Other books by Allyson R. Abbott

About Allyson

Contact Allyson

Project Brief

WITH ONE EYE ON THE television, Marie was propped up in bed with several fancy cushions and pillows stuffed behind her, determined to finish her latest presentation; it wasn't urgent, but she preferred to be organised and prepared, just in case. She prided herself on her work ethic and her ability to organise and have facts at her fingertips. She hated to be caught unprepared. She was well aware that people thought her uptight, but she believed it was more about her always having the answers at her finger tips that they referred to, rather than her personality.

The film showing silently on the television kept distracting her. George Clooney, as sexy as ever, was trying to win over Julia Roberts. Marie’s mind started to drift...how can she resist him? Or for that matter, why? He’s what I call sex on legs. I could do with some sex on legs myself; actually, I could do with some sex, legs or not. Why is it youngsters assume that you don’t think about or want sex as you get older? I still have urges, albeit not as often, but an urge is an urge.

She shuffled through the papers and books surrounding her, trying to refocus on her task at hand. She was searching for that perfect quote for the final slide, the one that everyone would applaud. But her mind had now well and truly slipped from her project. Reaching for the glass of wine on her bedside table reminded Marie about her secret sex toy, her magic wand, as she liked to call it, hidden at the back of the drawer. Indulgently she reached toward the drawer handle, her mind still on George Clooney, but then she snatched her arm back, reprimanding herself: No, now is not the time, Marie, you have work to do.

Later, while swirling the deep maroon wine around in the cut crystal goblet, Marie slyly glanced at George again. Hmm, sex. How long has it been? She carried on spinning the wine while pondering the equation. Eventually she mumbled to herself, ‘"It's been four years, seven months, two weeks and two days. Not that I’m counting or anything, but a woman just knows these things." She smiled secretly in confirmation, Of course women keep count.

She sipped her wine while deep in thought. At fifty nine I may not have many more years of relatively good looks left to find a man who appreciates maturity rather than short skirts and smooth skin. Having a good complexion helps, but there’s no point in kidding myself; my face and body have many more wrinkles and crinkles than they used to have. My figure has sagged a bit, but working out at the gym keeps it toned and my grey hair is kept at bay with regular hair salon visits. I may accept that I’m aging, but I’m trying not to advertise the fact. However much she tried to look on the positive side, she had to acknowledge that male partners had been few and far between.

After a couple more sips of her favorite, but expensive Malbec, she gave up on work and whipped out her cell from her pocket, accidently spilling a drop of wine on the duvet cover in the process. Damn! Never mind, Betty will sort that out tomorrow; she is such a treasure.

Rapidly tapping the keypad with practiced confidence, Marie found the calculator app: "Right, that's approximately 1686 days with 1440 minutes in each day, that's approximately a total of, good gracious, my life is passing me by as I sit here thinking about everything I’m missing. That’s approximately two million, four hundred and twenty seven thousand and eight hundred and forty minutes and counting."

Marie’s mind juggled the equation while she thought about all those days, hours and minutes without sex or love. No wonder I’m going crazy talking to myself and building a relationship with a wand. I never seem to have the time for man-hunting, with all the courting, relationship building and palaver that goes with it; as it is I can only find time once every few weeks for self-pleasure. She glanced longingly towards the drawer. Perhaps if I use it tonight it will take my mind off sex?

Coming to her senses, she admitted to herself that a wand was no substitute for a man, well not quite anyway, acknowledging she also missed company, having someone to chat with or cuddle up to at the end of the day. How on earth did I become so isolated? So insular? What happens when the time comes to retire?

She shuddered in recognition of her needs and neglect. How could she have missed such an obvious problem? Remembering that she was known by her colleagues as the queen of problem solving, (whether mockingly or as recognition for all her hard work, she was never quite sure), Marie now gave herself a challenge. How hard can it be to solve this problem?

Marie rose and brought the bottle of wine from the kitchen to her bedroom, filling her glass. As she settled back down again, she decided what was required was a man and