Marie was baking. Nothing unusual there. Jamie had never known her big, cosy kitchen to not smell of fresh bread, or chocolate cake, or crisp, buttery biscuits. It felt different though - tense - with a threat of burnt sugar. He stayed by the door, watching Marie stir a dark, lumpy mixture, her brows creased …
Sunlight shone off polished copper pots, hanging from racks along one wall of the kitchen, warming the cool, solid grey of the old stones making up the wall. Together with the big, slightly battered wooden table in the middle, and the scent of coffee and baking, the room felt like a hug and a listening …
It was a crude approximation of a sculpture, but that added to its charm. An uneven tree stump chopped and chain sawed into a shape Melanie could only describe as a rough but sweet tree troll. Did they even have trolls in Australia? They certainly had all manner of amazing creatures, invisible to most. It …
Anya stood in the shade of a chestnut tree near the entrance to the park, mentally urging her cousin to hurry. It wasn’t just because of the news she had to share. She also wanted to move away from the three young men calling out endearments and dirty suggestions from just outside the gates. Nanny …
Lady Charlotte tapped her chin with her fan. "Why does your papa like Lord Bernard? I forget." Anya hid her smirk behind her own fan before replying. "He doesn't. Papa says he's a stuffed sausage. Then Mama reminds him about the title and his money, and Papa retreats behind his paper again." Lady Margaret, Charlotte's …
"Wow, your dad must be really rich." Byron almost managed to sound as wide-eyed and awed as he was trying to look. It was a good thing the girl he was talking to was as unobservant as she was arrogant. The girl, who'd announced herself as Lady Amelia Littleham when Reba and Byron had failed …
“We need the best concealer you have, and the foundation with the most coverage.” Becky had towed Joanna into the space in the middle of all the make-up counters in their local department store. The floor was refusing to open up for Joanna to sink into. That was Sarah Wyndham behind the pastel pink counter. …
The new queen looked down at the latest candidate for the role of her consort. "It's an original tactic I suppose. A repulsive one, but original." Her words wiped away the kneeling man's smirk, he twisted his head to shoot a glare at the next man in line. The smirk had settled on his face. …
Byron glared at the smirking boy standing over his table. “Did you just threaten my cat?” “A cat? That’s not a cat, it’s my new winter hat.” The boy went to grab Misty who yowled and slashed out, drawing blood. “I’ll wring your filthy little neck.” Bryon scooped Misty behind him and stood. The boy …
“Charmed, I’m sure.” Lady Charlotte’s words dripped acid. Even someone as dense as Lord Bernard felt their burn, and squirmed. He attempted what he probably thought was a rakish grin. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I’ve come to steal Miss Anya away.” Anya flicked her fan open and grimaced at her cousin …
The DNA of Stories 