by sibelhodge
I smiled to myself and turned around.
It was him. The neighbour.
“Well, thanks.” I smirked at him, hoping I hadn’t got mud and grass smeared all over me.
He wasn’t good-looking in the conventional sense, but there was something about him I couldn’t place. He had a presence I was drawn to. You know how every now and then, you meet someone that you have some kind of spooky connection with? It’s like you’ve known them for years, or some weird sense of déjà vu. That’s how it was with him.
“Thought you might like one of these.” He held a glass of rosé over the fence. “All this gardening can be thirsty work.”
I shook the strange feeling off and wandered towards him, conscious of my bikini top and shorts that had definitely seen better days.
“How gentlemanly of you.” I took the glass and sipped at it. The chilled liquid slid down easily on the blistering-hot summer’s day.
“I’m Steve, by the way.” He smiled. The kind of smile that lit up his whole face: from the full lips, right up to his long, dark lashes.
“I was wondering when we’d get introduced.” I smiled at him, trying to ignore the fingers of electricity tickling up my spine. “I’ve only seen you from a distance since you moved in. I’m Claire.”
“I’ve been trying to keep a low profile,” he admitted, looking sheepish.
“Mmm. I wondered about you. I’ve often heard you banging around next door like a crazed insomniac. It’s led to a lot of speculation about you from the neighbours, let me tell you,” I laughed. It felt good to my ears. I hadn’t laughed in a while.
“Ah, so you’ve heard me. Well, I’d better come clean with my little secret, then.” He paused for effect. “I’m a printer, and I’ve been working from home. I didn’t want anyone to complain to the Council about me so I’ve been keeping myself to myself. It happened before to a friend of mine who was working from home. A neighbour complained, and he got shut down. It’s OK now, though, I’ve found some business premises. It’s pretty hard at first, moving half way across the country to start again. But there’ll be no more strange noises coming from my house now.” He raised his hand in the air. “Scout’s honour.”
“I see,’ I said, noticing some pretty sexy dimples appearing as he gazed at me with amusement. ‘So what were you printing in there late at night?”
“Counterfeit currency,” he said with a straight face.
I looked up at him and laughed. “How’s the house?”
“Fine. It needs quite a bit of work to renovate it. But I like that kind of thing.” His intense brown eyes studied me with interest, drawing my gaze like a magnet.
“So, where are you from?” I asked, feeling the crackling heat simmering between us like static.
“I used to live here a long time ago.” He took a sip of wine and gazed at me over the rim of the glass. “I moved away to the city when I was about five. My dad was sick of commuting to work.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “Do you think it’s changed in all that time?”
“Some things. Some things are still the same.” He rested his elbow on the fence and squinted at me through the low, early-evening sun. “So how about you? Are you from around here originally?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ve been in this village all my life.” I fanned myself with the trowel. God, it was hot! Or was it him that had made my temperature shoot up a few hundred degrees?
“No husband to do the garden?” he raised an eyebrow.
Hint, hint.
I shook my head. “No, he’s long gone.”
“Sorry to hear that. How did he die?”
“Oh no, he’s not dead! I threw him out. He was a sex-a-holic,” I said seriously. “Just not with me.” I giggled. The wine on an empty stomach was going to my head, making me relaxed and reckless. Was I actually flirting with him? I wasn’t even sure I knew how to do it anymore.
“Well, that would tend to be a problem.” He winked, and a curious feeling swept over
me. A feeling I hadn’t had in a long time.
“How about you?” I hinted back.
“Oh, no, I don’t have a husband, either,” he chuckled softly.
I smiled. “Very funny.”
“Pretty much the same thing as you, really. My wife ran off with our local vicar.” He threw me a can-you-believe-it kind of a look.
I almost choked on my drink. “Really? Wow, a vicar.” I shook my head. “I bet he’ll pay for that one when he gets up there.” I pointed to the sky.
“Well, what’s meant to be is meant to be.” He looked serious for a while as we gazed around the garden. Pensive, almost. “Why don’t you come round, and I can give you a re-fill?” he said finally, nodding to my empty glass.
“OK. Give me half an hour.” I handed him back the glass and wandered into my house, feeling a flicker of excitement.
Three dresses and two skirts later, I’d finally decided what to wear. Was this a date? Something else? Was I reading something into it that wasn’t really there? The last person I’d dated was Adam. We’d been together since I left high school, and look how that had turned out.
I shook my head, trying to clear it of nervous thoughts. I was definitely out of practise.
Hovering in front of the mirror, I scrutinized myself carefully. Would this do? I turned around and studied myself from all angles. At forty I should’ve been comfortable in my own skin, but for some strange reason I felt there was much more at stake here than just a casual encounter.
Pulling my hair into a neat ponytail, I brushed mascara across my lashes and swept a summery shade of coral lipstick over my lips. There. I was ready.
“Here you go.” I held up a bottle of wine when he met me on the doorstep.
He held the door open and waved me inside. “Let’s go through to the garden,” he suggested. “We need to make the most of this weather. It won’t last long, that’s for sure.”
Of course one glass of wine led to another, and it progressed from friendship into something real and tangible. There was an easiness that hung between us, unspoken. It felt as though I’d known him for infinity. I would cook him dinners, and we’d eat on the patio, savouring the unexpected wave of heat. He would pull my weeds and give me gardening advice. But there was so much more. Laughter, closesness, fun. (Fun! Yes, that’s what I’d been missing all those years with Adam.) Oh, and, of course, there were some pretty heated and sensual endless summer nights with Steve thrown in, too.
And then a few months later, I nestled into him on the sofa, which had become our familiar position, and we were chatting. Just casual chit-chat – you know the type of thing. And that’s when I really believed in kismet for the first time.
“So tell me about your first kiss.” I looked up at him and snuggled into his warm, strong shoulder.
“That’s an easy one.” He glanced at me, grinning. “It was just before I left here, so I would’ve been about five, I suppose.” He paused. “Her name was Claire, too, actually. Claire Sweeney. I’ll never forget it. It was in the playground at Templewood School. It was only a little peck, of course, but…” He shrugged. “It was pretty special. They say you never forget your first sweetheart, don’t they? I wanted to marry her when I was five.” He chuckled.
I pulled back and gazed at him, slack-jawed in amazement.
So that was why he felt so familiar.
“I can’t believe this.’ I giggled. ‘That was me! I’m Claire Sweeney – well, it used to be Sweeney. That was my maiden name.” I nodded my head slowly. “Steve Wilson. Wow. I always wondered what happened to you. One minute you were there and the next, you’d moved away.”
He took hold of my hand and kissed it. Soft sensual kisses like butterfly wings, hovering for a beat before fluttering to the next spot. “It’s like I’ve always told you. Things always happen for a reason. Life has a funny way of guiding you back to the right one. It’s fate,” he whispered.
Chick Lit and the F-Word!
My name is Sibe
l Hodge and I’m a chick lit author!
I was standing up when I said that so should I duck now and wait for the squidgy tomatoes to be thrown at me? Now, I know there are a lot of people who lurrrrve a hefty dose of chick lit, but there are still a lot of chick lit haters out there! Why? Haven’t got a clue, to be honest, because if you think about it, chick lit has been around for years. Just look at Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen! It was possibly one the first romantic comedies – yep, that’s right: Jane Austen wrote chick lit!
And since chick lit and fun go hand in hand, I thought I’d show you my take on how Girls Wanna Have Fun with this amazing genre!
May 2011 was the inaugural International Chick lit Month, and I had the pleasure of hosting a fabtastic giveaway of chick lit books on my blog (http://www.sibelhodge.com/my-blog.php). All people had to do to enter was leave a comment saying exactly what they love about chick lit. And this is where the fun part comes in!
Here are a few quotes from the comments:
“I can be sitting here reading a book, laughing out loud, snickering, and more, and I could try to explain to my hubby what is so funny, and he just doesn't get it!!!”
“Why do I like chick lit? Because it offers realistic characters, intriguing settings, and often, a good dose of humor”
“Reading a chick lit novel is like having a gossip session with a girl friend, and that is a guilty pleasure we all need to have once in a while.”
“Why do I read chick lit? Because chick lit is fun :) A light reading which makes you smile and sometimes upset”
“Rather like having an enormous box of chocolates that I can dip into at will - or even scoff the lot with no guilt feelings.”
“We all need a bit of light hearted fun in our lives! There is nothing wrong with a bit of daydreaming. This is why I like chick lit :o) xx”
“I especially enjoy reading about strong women who make their way in men's professions and have fun while they’re at it.”
“Other times I'm laughing my face off enjoying the great adventures and interesting situations that some of the characters get themselves into.”
“What I love about it is the attitude, that it's all about a woman's journey, but more in a fun, personal way than say, women's fiction”
“It is fun, light hearted escapism”
Notice the common theme in all of them? Yes, the F word (no, not THAT F word!) - Fun!
So what exactly is chick lit?
Well, the chick lit genre is so diverse, encompassing all the issues that modern women face. And it’s so much more than killer shoes and pink covers! It can be sad, happy, kick-ass, fun, comical, scary, inspiring, heart-warming, intriguing, romantic, raunchy, sassy, full of attitude, quirky, and tear-jerking. It covers real problems that women go through on a daily basis, so it can never die!
But I think the main theme of chick lit is that it often contains humor, sarcasm, wit, and a fantabulous dose of fun. They are also often told in a more personal and confiding tone. Imagine having a natter with your best mate while indulging in a big dose of chocolate. Think of it as a calorie-free indulgence! And these are the things that set it apart from purely romance or women’s fiction.
Nowadays there are sub-genres such as mommy lit, mystery lit, even lad lit! So whatever type of story you’re looking for there will be loads of chick lit books to suit you.
Authors in the chick lit genre include people like Sophie Kinsella, Marian Keyes, Beth Orsoff, LC Evans. Oh, yeah, and little old moi!
Now, I always say that life is about living, laughing, and having fun. What better way to de-stress from our hectic lives? I’ve always loved making people laugh and that’s why I write chick lit.
So girls, if you do wanna have fun…reach for the chick lit!
If you enjoyed How to Dump Your Boyfriend in the Men’s Room (and other short stories) read on for sample chapters from my romantic comedies and chick lit mysteries. All books are available in paperback and all ebook formats.
For more details, please visit
http://www.sibelhodge.com/
Fourteen Days Later
Fourteen Days Later was short listed for the Harry Bowling Prize 2008 and received a Highly Commended by the Yeovil Literary Prize 2009. It is a romantic comedy with a unique infusion of British and Turkish Cypriot culture. Written in a similar style to Marian Keyes, it is My Big Fat Greek Wedding meets Bridget Jones.
When accident-prone Helen Grey finds a thong stuffed into the pocket of her boyfriend's best work trousers, it's time for her to move on. His excuse that he needed to dust the photocopier and just thought that it was a rag sounds like a lame excuse.
Helen's life is propelled in an unexpected direction after her best friend, Ayshe, sets her a fourteen-day, life-changing challenge. Helen receives a task everyday which she must complete without question. The tasks are designed to build her confidence and boost her self-esteem but all they seem to do is push her closer to Ayshe's brother, Kalem.
How will Kalem and Helen get together when she's too foolish to realize that she loves him? How can he fall for her when he is too busy falling prey to her mishaps and too in love with his own perfect girlfriend? How will Kalem's Turkish Cypriot family react when they find out?
Is it really possible to change your life in fourteen days?
Chapter one
‘Fourteen days,’ said Ayshe. ‘That’s all it takes to change your life for the better.’
‘You are joking, right?’ I arched an eyebrow. ‘Nobody can change their life in fourteen days.’
‘That’s not what it says in here.’ Ayshe held up the magazine she’d been flicking through, her finger underlining one of the articles.
‘“Orgasms or Chocolate? What do women really want?”’ I read the headline aloud.
‘What?’ Ayshe looked at the magazine and adjusted her finger. ‘Not that. This. “Turn Your Life Around. The Simple Fourteen Day Plan Anyone Can Do”.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’ Tucking my legs underneath me on the sofa, I picked at my frayed jogging bottoms.
‘No, what’s ridiculous is you still moping about over Justin. It’s been six months since you split up with him. You need to move on with your life.’ She rose from her chair and flounced down next to me, resting her arm on my knees.
I wriggled away from her. ‘I’m having another iced coffee; want one?’
‘It’s too cold for iced coffee. It’s the middle of November for God’s sake,’ she called out as I clattered around in the kitchen. ‘Anyway, I thought you’d promised to cut down on your caffeine intake.’
When I returned, I sank down onto the sofa. ‘I still haven’t managed to get a plumber out to fix the dishwasher. Either they don’t turn up when they say they will, or they won’t come out for anything less than a total bathroom refurb.’
Ayshe watched me in silence.
I sat it out for a while, her steady gaze drilling into me. ‘What?’
‘Trying to change the subject isn’t going to work. You can’t avoid this much longer.’
‘I’m not, it’s true. You can never get hold of a plumber these–’
She clamped her hand over my mouth. ‘You need to go out and do things – and don’t give me that rubbish about you’ll never meet another man – he was the right one – he was the love of your life. I know four years together is a long time, but everybody always says that when they split up with people. You will get over him, but not if you keep refusing to move on with your life.’ She pushed me on the leg.
I wasn’t expecting the jolt and spilt my coffee all down my attractive jogging bottoms.
My thoughts drifted back to the time I’d discovered a size sixteen Agent Provocateur thong stuffed into the pocket of Justin’s best work trousers during the usual laundry run. I was pretty sure his company hadn’t suddenly changed their dress-code. I mean, smart trousers, shirt, and thong, wouldn’t sound too good in the staff handbook. I was also sure he couldn’t have picked it up innocently – as he’
d told me – because he needed to dust the photocopier and thought it was a rag. And I knew it wasn’t mine because I’d never really fancied a piece of dental floss chafing my bits and bobs.
She lifted her hand away from my mouth.
‘So what else does it say then, this article?’ I feigned interest, rubbing at the coffee stain with my hand.
‘It’s about trying to get more interests in your life if you’re stuck in a rut. It was written by one of those new trendy life coaches who try and get you to organize your life better. Apparently, you have to set yourself challenges to have a brand new experience every day for fourteen days, to gain more confidence; something to do with re-evaluating things and re-balancing your yin and yang – or your Hong Kong Fuey – or whatever it is.’
I snorted. She ignored me and ploughed on regardless.
‘The more things you do, the more confidence you gain, and you become a more focused and better person. You need to be more proactive with your life, and I think this is just what you need.’
I heaved a dramatic sigh.
‘It’s not just about meeting a man. It’s about changing your perspective. Come on, what is there to lose? Worst case scenario, you might discover things that you never knew before, or find something new that you like doing. Best case scenario…’ She shrugged. ‘You might meet a “the one”.’
I pretended to ignore her and fiddled with my hair.
‘You never know if you don’t try, and you need to take every single opportunity you can to meet new people, instead of making the usual pathetic excuses you’ve been using for the last six months.’ Sitting back on the sofa, she crossed her arms over her chest. The lecture was over.
‘I don’t know if I’ve got the time for a Hong Kong Fuey experience. I mean what with…work…and…’ I tailed off, staring out of my flat window at the dreary, sludgy winter day outside. How much longer could I make excuses to keep my life on hold, waiting for Justin to come back?
