Imprinted on the Heart
By Terry Newman
Blurb:
JJ Spritely, history professor and romance author, writes love stories, but her own happily ever after seems out of reach. She’s frustrated her most recent book is sitting in a warehouse instead of in the hands of her readers. And her relationship with her boyfriend has stalled. What else could possibly go wrong?
How about a return visit from Alex and Blake, the fictional characters from her yet-to-be-released book? They’ve jumped out of the pages of their book into JJ’s world before. They mean well, but they cause chaos wherever they go.
Kennedy King Cooper wants to propose to JJ, but his track record with this sort of thing isn’t good - and to further complicate matters, the new professor, Robert J. MacWhouton, is monopolizing JJ’s time. If he doesn’t ask her soon, he may lose her forever.
Alex and Blake are determined to give destiny a helping hand. They stand ready to do whatever it takes to help Kenn propose before a kilt-wearing romance hero wannabe sweeps her off her feet. If only they had a plan.
This time, it seems, no one is guaranteed a happily ever after.
Excerpt:
A blast of frigid air ran through the room. Someone had entered the Physics Café.
“Look at him.” Alex pointed in the direction of the person. Blake’s back was to the door, so he twisted to get a good look.
A backpack slung casually over his shoulder, the man wore a nineteen-twenties-era leather aviator cap, complete with goggles sitting atop the headgear. He also had a matching waist-length, leather jacket. He looked as if he had just stepped out of another era.
“He looks awfully familiar.” Alex kept an eye on him as he sauntered across the room.
Blake agreed. “Where could we have seen him before?” He untwisted his body as the man approached the counter. “Did we meet him the last time we were here? From the pep squad, perchance?”
“No, I don’t think so. Maybe from the history class we took that JJ and Kenn taught?” She pursed her lips. “Think, Blake. You know we know him.”
“Not from here.” Blake concentrated. “But I think we saw him—”
“Alex and Blake.” The man stood at their booth, a cup in his hand.
“Uhm…hi?” Alex glanced at Blake.
“Oh, Merlin.” Blake popped out of the booth and pumped the man’s free hand. “I didn’t recognize you right away.”
“Is it really you?” Alex cocked her head.
“Yes, it’s me. May I sit with you? I ordered.” He pulled his element number, 79Au out of the jacket pocket, as if he needed proof.
“But of course.” Blake returned to the bench and Merlin slid in next to him.
“Merlin?” Alex rubbed her chin. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“It’s my disguise.” He took off his cap and placed it on the bench between Blake and himself. He ran his hands through his curly hair, then shook it out. “That’s better. The cap messes with my hair.”
“May I ask why you chose the aviator look?” Blake’s eyes were trained on the cap. “I would think just wearing contemporary clothing would be enough of a disguise.”
“I’ve always liked this look.” He took a sip from the cup. “And I needed something eccentric enough that no one would even suspect I was a wizard.”
This was only Blake’s second visit to JJ’s world, but he didn’t think there was much chance of anyone thinking Merlin an authentic wizard. But he said nothing.
“My office is across the street. I thought we could rendezvous here for updates.”
“You mean that office?” Alex pointed to a storefront on the opposite side of the street. “The one that reads The ord herpa? What’s that?” The letters were in black on the large window.
Merlin’s face turned pink. “That’s supposed to read The Word Sherpa. I just haven’t finished painting. The other letters will be in red. I thought it would make it look professional.”
“What exactly is a word sherpa?” Alex asked.
“Let’s consider the original meaning of sherpa.” Blake sat up straighter. “It’s a member of a Tibetan people who live in the Himalayas in eastern Nepal. They act as guides and provide support for mountain climbers.” He raised a brow at Merlin, who nodded.
“From here, we can extrapolate that Merlin guides his clients through the mountainous, rugged terrain of words.”
“How beautiful.” Alex sighed.
“Something like that.” Merlin sipped from his cup. “I’m a freelance writer.”
“That’s what I said.” Blake’s British accent was pronounced. “A freelance writer.”
“You did, hon.” Alex reached over and patted his hand. “And you said it beautifully.”
“Here you go, Merlin.” Alvin appeared with a small plate of toast. “Are you sure this is how you want it?”
“Absolutely.” The toast was burnt. Most of it was black. “This brings back childhood memories. My mother made toast like this every morning.”
Alvin nodded and glanced at Blake, who shrugged.
“I didn’t know you knew Alex and Blake.” Alvin pushed his glasses up on his nose.
“We go way back,” Merlin said.
“Why yes,” Blake said. “Way back.”
“Alvin!” voices called from the other end of the café.
“Sounds like you’re in demand.” Blake waved to Ted and Simon behind the counter.
“No, they think it’s cute because of my name. You know the chipmunk cartoon and all. But I better go. Enjoy. I’ll be back with more coffee.”
Merlin bit into a slice of toast. His eyes shut as he chewed and he softly moaned. “Tastes divine.” He put it down and rubbed his hands together.
“Now, tell me, have you learned anything yet?”
“JJ expects Kenn to ask her to marry him.” Alex bounced in her seat.
“Good, that’s a good sign.” Merlin picked up another slice of toast. “Perhaps, headquarters was wrong. Everything looks like it’s going in the right direction.” He bit into the toast again. “Perfect.”
Blake didn’t know if the man was talking about the toast or JJ and Kenn.
Author Bio:
Terry Newman, an award-winning author, writes romantic comedy with a splash of fantasy.
As long as she could remember, she has played with words. In junior high school, she documented the life of a married couple: two No. 2 pencils, Penelope and Peregrine. In high school, she wrote of UFOs and penned an occasional political satire.
She’s also written more normal things. She was the editor-in-chief and ghostwriter for a national health publication, a small-town reporter, and most recently, a freelance writer.
All of her novels are set in fictional towns in northeast Ohio, where she grew up. She has a daughter, a son-in-law, and a grandpuppy. She lives in North Lima, a real town in northeast Ohio with all of her characters. She reports it does get crowded at times.
