Third Time Lucky: A Short Story

By Gail Crane

I really should be used to weddings by now. My daughter is about to walk with me down the aisle and my son is up at the front. There's a real feeling of deja vu - and I can't help feeling nervous.

Enjoy this short story, PLUS read the first chapter of Flynn's Folly, the first of two Exmoor Romance novels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gail Crane
• Release date: Nov 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005928711

Gail Crane

Gail Crane writes romance novels and short stories inspired by the Exmoor countryside where she lives. She is a member of The Alliance of Independent Authors and The Romantic Novelists Association and in 2014, she completed a BA degree with Open University, studying creative writing and children's literature. When not writing or reading, she enjoys walking and gardening, and is addicted to crosswords.

Book preview

Third Time Lucky

Ilook in the mirror and do a quick twirl.

Ellie and I chose my outfit together; ivory-coloured linen suit, knee-length slim-line skirt and a semi-fitted jacket over a deep aubergine silk top. The highest heels I’ve worn for a very long time don’t quite succeed in making my legs look as though they go all the way up to my armpits, but then I’ve always been a bit lacking in the height department.

I do another twirl. Mm; not bad, if I do say it myself.

It might not be the full length white satin job with yards of lace and virginal veil, but then at forty-something – well, forty-quite-a-lot, actually – that had seemed just a little over the top.

In any case, I already did that a long time ago. Been there; got the T-shirt, as they say. Five years later, I’d collected the next T-shirt; the one with a capital D on the back for failed; nisi; absolute. The D could have stood for disaster or divorce. Either way it meant the same.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Greg and I were both far too young. I can see that now. Head over heels in love and totally convinced we were doing the right thing, we eventually won our parents’ reluctant consent and, a few days after my nineteenth birthday and Greg’s twenty-second,