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Chapter One from my latest contemporary romance Music to her Heart, available from www.blacklyonpublishing.com and www.amazon.com

Chapter One

Paul Kerr said in his gruff voice, “I’ve got some good

news. I’m going to be married.”

“Married?” Katy didn’t even know her father had

dated since her mother died.

“Her name is Trish Stevenson and naturally she

wants to meet you and I want you to meet Trish, so

we’ve planned for all of us to spend the weekend together

at her son’s house.”

Katy’s work as a singer-songwriter had dried up

during the years of caregiving her mother so she was

free and she supposed it was her daughterly duty to go.

“Where does her son live?”

“His house is northwest of Toronto somewhere. I’ll

call you back with the exact address. I believe it’s quite

rural.”

“How am I going to get there, Dad? I haven’t got a

car.”

“You can rent one. Use that credit card I gave you to

buy yourself Christmas gifts.” The card she’d never used

because she’d felt so unloved.

When her mother was alive, her mother chose and

wrapped all the special gifts. Now her father didn’t

have time for her. That’s what that credit card stood for.

“Dad—”

He interrupted her protest. “Katy, this is important

to me. Please be there. I understand it’s a lovely house.

And Trish’s son sounds like a nice fellow. You might find

him useful. He’s a pretty big wheel in the music business.”

“What’s his name?” For some reason her breath

had caught in her throat. There weren’t that many big

wheels in the music business, but it couldn’t possibly,

be, could it?

Her father coughed. “His name’s Adam Stevenson.”

Even though she was half expecting it, she still exclaimed,

“No way!”

“Does that mean no way you’re coming?”

“No, no, it means that I’m astounded at what you

just said. Are you engaged to marry Adam Stevenson’s

mother?”

“Yes. That’s what I’ve been saying for the past five

minutes. Don’t you listen?”

“I am now. You’re always so vague. Are you telling

me that your fiancée’s son is Adam Stevenson from Stevenson

Music Management?”

“Yes. That’s him. Have you ever met him?”

“No. But I’d like the chance to meet him.”

“This is more than a chance. He’s going to be your

step-brother.”

Katy disconnected her phone and sat on the sofa

in the small apartment she shared with friends. She

remembered back a few months to when she’d visited

Stevenson Music Management.

Impressed and just a trifle scared she’d stood on the

dense black marble floor of the large foyer. SMM was

scrawled in silver across the middle of the floor and the

entire area was illuminated by the natural light from the

many slanted roof windows.

The receptionist with the silky blonde hair and huge

blue eyes had glanced up at the line in front of her.

“Next,” she’d called out shrilly.

The black leather man, with the guitar case, in front

of Katy, stepped up to the curved counter and mumbled

something. The receptionist smiled brightly and pointed

out a door that probably led into the offices.

“Next.”

“My name is Katy Kerr. I’m a singer-songwriter. I

want to see Adam Stevenson, please.”

“In what respect?”

“I need someone to represent me.”

The woman’s brilliant white top teeth nibbled her

bottom lip. “And you just walked in here without an appointment?”

“Can I make an appointment?”

“Not just like that, you can’t.” The woman clicked

her fingers in the air. “Anyway, Adam Stevenson is out

of town and I have no idea when he’ll be back.” She

dragged a phone pad forward. “I can take your name

and number and have his assistant call you.”

Katy gave her name and number and it was written

down half-heartedly. “Can’t I make an appointment today?”

“His assistant is also out of the office today and she’s

the person to make appointments with.” The woman let

out a shoulder-heaving sigh. “I would advise that you

phone first to see if you can get an appointment.”

Katy had tried that with no result so she’d showed

up in person. “What about email?”

“No emails. I am really truly sorry. Next please.”

A woman with long blonde hair in skinny jeans and

a denim jacket slipped in front of Katy.

As she was walking to the swing doors Katy noticed

the skinny blonde was directed over to the door the

leather man had gone through. She was going through

that door one day, she decided as she left the building.

She slipped into the car she’d borrowed from a

friend, started the engine, and prepared to back out.

Great timing. A white limousine drove up and stopped

right behind her. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Katy observed

the man leaving the limousine through her rearview

mirror. From the back he was broad-shouldered,

with thick, vital, nut-brown hair brushing the collar of

his black wool overcoat. When he turned to speak to

the driver opening the door, she saw his profile: Dark

eyebrows over deep set eyes, a well-shaped nose and a

vulnerable full mouth. His chin was strong. She wished

he’d turn all the way around but as soon as the limousine

door closed he walked briskly into the building and

disappeared through the tinted glass doors. Sexy, she

thought as the limo moved off. Wow.

She left the parking lot and swung the car onto the

road. Edging slowly toward downtown Toronto from

the suburban industrial estate, Katy now wondered if

this morning’s trip had been worth the effort. Granted,

she’d actually visited the Stevenson Music Management

building. Still, she hadn’t come here to gawk at a music

shrine. She’d thought that approaching SMM might be

the first step in getting her life into order. She’d only had

one gig in the past month and while she was part-owner

of a vegetarian restaurant with a friend due to an inheritance

from her grandparents her music career paid her

bills. And she’d been doing quite well before her mother

was diagnosed with cancer. Spending all her spare time

caring for her mother had cut her off from the music

world. Saying no so much had been a dreadful experience.

At the same time as the agony of watching her

mother die it was also like watching her own dreams go

up in a puff of dust.

At her mother’s funeral, her father, brother Robert

and his wife comforted her with their presence. However,

as soon as the funeral was over they all took off

and left her to flounder with no support. She’d even had

a boyfriend at the time. Yet he hadn’t been able to spare

a moment off work to pay his respects. To add to her

heartache, Katy had broken up with Ken a week after

the funeral. All he cared about was his next real estate

deal. One day she would hear about him being taken to

a hospital to have a cell phone removed from his ear.

Katy drove through the city to where she lived.

The residential street was crowded as usual, but she

managed to find a spot not far from the apartment

she shared with her friends, Heather and Joe. As she

stepped from Heather’s car she slipped the keys into the

pocket of her black wool jacket. She noticed the blue sky

from this morning had turned gray and now icy little

snowflakes pinged at her forehead and scattered over

her long brunette hair. The wind lashing her best black

slacks against her thighs was bitter cold. Shivering,

Katy rushed past the row of narrow brick houses that

were either rental apartments or had been renovated

by trendy couples. The frosty weather was an indication

Christmas was only a few weeks away. She’d promised

to spend the season at home with her family, when, according

to her father, they would also sort through her

mother’s belongings and decide what possessions they

wanted to keep. Her father planned to sell the suburban

house in January and go north to live up in Muskoka

in his newly winterized lakeside cottage. When the cottage

was also sold, he would settle into his retirement in

a condominium near a golf course. To Katy that meant

she would probably never see Paul Kerr again. He was a

golf fanatic.

With stiff, cold fingers Katy poked her key into the

lock of the front apartment in one of the houses. Katy

had only intended to share until she married Ken. Now

she wasn’t marrying Ken, finding a place of her own was

imperative. Darn Ken. She really had held expectations

for her future with him. Nevertheless, she had learned

some lessons from the experience: Think before she

rushed into anything and certainly never have expectations.

Expectations were the cause of all of her disappointments.

At least the apartment seemed warm and friendly

inside. As Katy closed the door, she heard low voices

from the kitchen and smelled freshly baked cookies.

Just like home, she thought, remembering her mother

again, even though it had been years since her mother

had baked a cookie.

She tossed her purse down on the coffee table, took

off her jacket and hung it in the closet. Heather and

Joe were sitting at the kitchen table. Heather was tall

and thin with very short blonde hair, always a perfect

new style due to her job in a beauty salon. Joe was big

and good-looking, with black hair gelled back for his

daytime job in the bank. When he was at home and he

turned into his weekend job of a rock guitarist, his hair

tended to hang in curtains through which he peered.

They both wore jeans and black sweaters.

Heather jumped up from her chair. “How did it go,

Katy?”

Katy handed the car keys to Heather. “It was actually

a waste of time. I couldn’t get past reception. I need

an appointment. Neither Adam Stevenson nor his assistant

was there, so that means I have to try phoning

again. Which as you know, doesn’t work.”

Katy smiled for a second then let the smile fade.

Heather looked upset and Katy thought her tension

had a lot more to do with something else than her own

plight at SMM. She glanced at Joe who was plucking the

form of a stick person out of a napkin. “What’s the matter,

you guys?”

Heather sighed. “Sit down. Have a cookie. Do you

want some tea?”

“Sure.” Katy pulled out a wooden kitchen chair and

sat down opposite Joe. She thought his usually twinkling

dark eyes seemed as dismal as the weather.

Heather served Katy with a mug of hot, steaming

tea and returned to her chair. “You know my mother

went into hospital today for that knee operation. Well, I

have to go home and look after her when she comes out,

because she won’t be very mobile. Therefore, Joe and I

can’t get married until later.”

Katy tried to take in the implications of this news.

Maybe she was giving out bad vibes to everyone and

nothing would go right for her friends either. “When

are you getting married then?” she asked.

“We’ll postpone everything until next September. By

then Mom should be fine.”

Katy looked at Joe. “What do you think?”

Joe crumpled the torn napkin. “She has to do what

she has to do. I’m not losing her. But I can’t afford the

rent here alone.”

Heather said, “Would you like to share with Joe?

That’s what we’re thinking.”

“You mean me move in here permanently with your

fiancé?”

“I trust you. I’ve known you since university. And so

has Joe.”

Joe grinned. “And it’s not that I don’t think you’re the

sexiest thing on two legs, Katy, but I trust myself.”

Katy smiled. “Joe. I trust you. I suppose it’s a good

deal. I was looking for a place for myself, but half a rent

is better really.”

“It’ll give you a chance to work on your music,”

Heather said.

Joe gave her a sympathetic sigh. “You can move

in your things from the storage when Heather moves

some of her gear out. When you have your piano here,

you’ll feel better.”

Katy nodded. “Okay. I need a place to live anyway.”

But even though her life seemed a bit more permanent

by nightfall, Katy still felt frightened. In the next

door bedroom, Heather and Joe were lovers. She could

hear the thump of the mattress, their heightened breathing

through the thin walls, Heather’s ecstasy mixed with

Joe’s groans of pleasure. They might have postponed

their marriage, but they still had one another. And here

she was desperately alone in the world. Because she

was supposed to be a modern, stand-alone woman, she

felt guilty for thinking this way. But she couldn’t help

it. She was lonely. And the loneliness manifested itself

into memories of the man in the black overcoat who’d

stepped from the limo outside SMM today. So tall and

strong looking, he was the type of man she needed right

now. She imagined his dark inscrutable eyes, how he

might look at her, feel in her arms, her fingers entangled

in his thick hair as he kissed her.

The Writing Process

Thank you to talented romantic/erotica/mystery writer Christiane France for inviting me on a Blog Tour. http://christianefrance.blogspot.ca

I've been writing all my life. I actually learned to type when I was 15 in high school so that I could be a writer. Of course there were some detours along the way – secretarial, administrative jobs, but they have become life research.

What am I working on?

I write romantic fiction and I'm usually juggling a few novels at one time. At the moment I'm endeavoring to re arrange a book I've called (working title) Firefly Bay. I say re arrange because I've written the novel a couple of times in other forms. Now I've distilled two main characters and I'm travelling through their romantic journey from the 70's to the present time. I've also got a new release coming out in July from Black Lyon Publishing www.blacklyonpublishing.com and I've signed six contracts with Samhain Publishing for some of my back list under their Retro Romance imprint. Montlake Romance from www.amazon.com have just released three of my Avalon hardcover library books, Tropical Dreams, Family Affairs and Love's Design in paperback which I hope will find a brand new market. In April another Montlake Romance will be releasing, Racing Hearts. All these books are available on Amazon Kindle.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I attempt to spin reality into fantasy. Whether I've ever achieved that I'm not sure, but I like to feel that each romance is a real friendship and a true commitment that will last so that the fantasy isn't a lie.

Why do I write what I do?

Because I've always loved reading romances and any stories, thrillers, mysteries, that have a relationship hidden in their depths.

How does your writing process work?

Sometimes I begin with a title, a name, or a vision of what a character will look like or maybe a situation. Then I begin to write the book from that one starting point. I usually begin writing a chapter then begin again. Write a second chapter then begin again at the first chapter. Maybe even discard the first chapter. By this time maybe the first two chapters have extended into three or four. And I keep going that way, working my way through the story, listening to the characters. Usually about half way through I have to spend a night wrestling with my brain to re arrange the way the story is going. Possibly I will change the dramatic conflict that will propel the story forward. About three quarters of the way through I will know the ending, but will never write the ending, until I've got the entire book right – at least in my mind. Usually the characters in the end have their own way.

Check me out at www.jilliandagg.com

Facebook: http://wwww.facebook.com/jilliandagg, Twitter: #fictionscribble

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